Tag Archives: brussels

What – no Top Gear ?

Just settling down for a sunday evening in front of the TV, Sunday 8pm, BBC2 Top Gear – but not tonight.  Seems that Jezza has overstepped the mark.  Poor old fella!  Personally, I think he could be a huge premadonna so I can believe all that I am hearing. I do predict that tomorrow though – the news will be full of stories about Mr Clarkson NOT renewing his contract with the beeb.  To really push the boat out, I reckon Hammond and May will stay on and Top Gear will continue with a similar format.  It does get a bit boring watching them smoking tyres out on dream cars, with the predictable punch lines and especially when they ask the audience if they want to see the lap in the  ‘star in a reasonably priced car’ segment – of course they do………..time for a change I think.  Tonight I am sampling a new program called ‘Off their Rockers’.

More toilet talk – I picked up a pack of Belgium’s finest bog roll the other week, all different designs.  One that took my fancy straight away was a roll with a drawing of a pile of poo on alternate sheets (almost mis-spelled that ), underneath the cartoon pile was the word ‘Happens’.  I kinda liked that – ‘Shit Happens’  quite apt for a toilet roll.  Then I noticed another roll had a cartoon face of a Lion (or Cat – I couldn’t tell which) with the words in Portuguese underneath that translated to ‘ Very Nice to see You’.  I thought that was a bit weird, dragging that across your butt hole but then this week I noticed the best yet.  Pictures of hands making shapes that signified letters of the alphabet – I assumed they were sign language but thankfully, under each drawing of a hand was the letter being signed.  I pulled a few sheets off the roll to reveal the full phrase, I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U  drag that across ring piece of your nearest and dearest to show how much you care.

So recently I have been to-ing and fro-ing from Brussels a lot – late night drives to avoid traffic congestion. Traffic just does my head in and if you plan badly you get traffic on the M25 and also on the RO (the Brussels M25 equivalent) at the other end. Usually this means a 10pm ferry, arriving in Dunkirk at 1am local time followed by a two-hour spurt into Brussels.  The other night I got into some morbid thinking about death on the long run into the ring from Dunkirk.  To perk myself up I started flicking through my iTunes playlist until I found something I really liked.  I found the mighty Biffy Clyro & 27. Singing my heart out I was fully prepared to play it again if it finished before I made it to the house but there was an ace in the pack, a very big ace.

As I approached Stockel Square, Biffy faded out and was replaced by Robbie feckin Williams with ‘Angels’.  It was 3am and I was definitely going to be at the house before this song had finished so I dropped both front windows on the car, pumped up the volume and started singing at the top of my voice.  I had time in hand, that was clear, so I circled the market square 3 times that morning – singing my bollocks off in the most out of tune manner you have ever heard in your life.  Think about the worst karaoke you ever heard – that was me.  It was like holding both middle fingers up to those boring french speaking fuckers of Belgium. IT FELT GOOD!! I hope I woke all of them up.

Friday saw the final chapter in Belgium close as we handed back the house there. I will miss having such a huge forest right on my doorstep but new chapters beckon, new adventures are always just around the corner.  Tonight I went for a run taking in a little amount of road before heading into the fields, aiming for the canal towpath somewhere between Kilsby and Barby.  I did finally make the towpath as the light was fading fast.  I missed a turn halfway down a field and added a good half kilometer to my distance.  My OS maps app didn’t work so I had no choice but to back track and find where I had gone wrong.  Eventually on the tow path, the inevitable happened – I needed a dump !  Now, the non runners amongst you will never understand the link between running and dumping but please be assured there is a legitimate link – I certainly do not have a fetish for dropping a steaming coiler out in the nature – sometimes it just can’t be avoided.  Thankfully this time, I had a packet of Handy Andy’s with me so my underwear and hat were safe.

Staying with running – I did manage a new personal best at Saturday’s Parkrun in Coventry’s War Memorial Park.  I ran my lungs out to take over 45 seconds out of my best time.  I was more than a little miffed though – on the last half of the second lap, two other runners that I correctly guessed were in my age group overtook me.  This is a problem for two reasons.  Firstly, anyone that is older than me or younger than me that is in front of me, is a target. I just can’t be beaten by anyone close by that is older or younger (yes I know that is everyone) but could I catch and pass them before the finish line ? Could I bollocks !  The second reason for this being a problem for me was that as they overtook me – they were having a conversation FFS!  If that is not adding insult to injury, I don’t know what is.  I do wonder though – if they applied my theory of ‘if you have enough air left to talk, you ain’t running hard enough’ – just how fast a time could they make ?  Anyway – I managed a respectable 77th place out of a field of 504 runners but I did get beaten by two chicks, and when I say beaten – I mean given a jolly good arse kicking !

But I keep trying – remember, there are two Great North Runs on my agenda this year.

Next week I return to St Maarten in the Caribbean before setting sail on yet another transatlantic crossing for Mallorca.  Transatlantic crossings are very boring. 16 days or so with not a great deal to do although I always say it’s better to have a boring 16 days than 16 days of fighting for your life.


Bold as Brass

Stupid is as Stupid does……..I think that was Forest Gump?  Well, he must have been talking about the locals in Belgium as far as I can see.  I hit the forest this afternoon for my usual 27k romp, expecting to set a good time for all the slipping and sliding I was doing in the mud, when suddenly, as if by magic, the shopkeeper appeared.  Well actually no he didn’t but there was one section of track, maybe a quarter of a mile long, a footpath worn in the forest floor that had been blocked by the local forest boys that had been out there chopping down trees.  In that quarter-mile section, they had chopped 6 trees down, each one of them laying perfectly across the track I was trying to cycle on.

I don’t get it.  How much of a twat do you have to be to do that 6 times and not notice the well-worn track that you are dropping these trees on ?  I like the forest but man is it claggy at the moment – all of my running and biking times are suffering.


I did give an old lady a right rum treat today.  For those of you that haven’t been here to the house in Belgium, one of the stair cases is visible from the road purely because of a ‘strategic’ window in one of the interior walls.  I have often bounded up and down the stair section in question, aware that people might see me in the nuddy but have never really been too bothered about it – it would need a very specific set of circumstances to get the timing right.  So brazen am I about it that I even do it at night, dark outside, light on inside – you know what I mean.

Well today I came happily trotting or maybe even cantering down that flight, completely in the nud, my bell end slapping half way down my shin and then onto my chin as I bounced happily from step to step.  I then noticed a pair of feet on the footpath outside.  With every step down I saw more of her, with every step down she saw more of me. She had definitely had a full frontal of my swinging wanger before she started to look away – better still, she had stared just long enough to see it without me catching her looking – as her head came into view, it was already moving downward, averting her vision but more importantly, avoiding eye contact.

I had to have a little chuckle to myself

That was at about 3pm this afternoon – since then, there has been a steady stream of old ladies walking past the house


More Halo action tonight with Mr. B – making the most of the empty house while the bird is away.  Do I rock or what? 20 years ago, me in an empty house of an evening would have resulted in 16 Russian Circus Lesbians spending the night eating chocolate from each others bodies while the strippers tried to see how many of them could get on my face at one time without actually suffocating me.


Rock On !!

Barcelona near miss

I have been thinking recently, dangerous I know.  Some of you will be aware that there is a speed camera just up the street from me.  The speed limit is 50kph and quite rightly so – but 50kph should be easy enough to reach on my bike right?  I have tried so hard to trip that bloody camera but I cannot get past 55kph which is probably right on the threshold for taking my photo.

The other afternoon, I even tried using a bus to reduce wind drag, undertaking it and popping out in front with probably 50 metres of road left before the sensors in the tarmac.  I popped out of the side, centered in the road and as I crossed the sensors, looked back over my left shoulder to see if it flashed – NADA!!!

I did see the bus driver smiling though as he realised what I was trying to do.  And that got me to thinking……….Maybe I could add to the list of eccentric English sports that are available

The Worthing Bird Man  – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4XQtphCd0w

Coopers Hill Cheese Rolling – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOyQBSMeIhM

World Shin Kicking Championships – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGXDwbzlJKw

How about ‘Tow in Speed Camera Baiting’ ? (Westwood’s gonna love this one – and I ain’t talking about Tim)  Similar to tow in surfing, where a jet ski is used to boost them into a wave too big to paddle into.  Obviously there would be points for tripping the camera in the first place, followed by style points for tripping it with a little flair and thirdly, as the sport is called ‘baiting’ – all competitors should be dressed as Badgers – points for the best costume.  Eventually we could get it into the Olympics too right?  I mean, if Mogul Skiing is allowed, tow in speed camera baiting should be fine too.  As a back up, my reserve sport would be Olympic Bonking. Simple rules – whoever comes first, looses!

Anyway, enough nonsense.  My reason for todays entry was to highlight a recent near miss at Barcelona Airport.  I wanted to point this out to you because I believe there has been a gross error in the quotation supplied to the BBC.  The beeb reported that …

The plane then lands safely on the runway shortly afterwards. Officials have denied passengers were in danger at any point.

Now, for me, having worked in Spain for several years and knowing the work ethic of the locals, I strongly suspect that the quote should have read as follows

The plane then lands safely on the runway shortly afterwards.  Officials have denied passengers or ground crew were in danger of being disturbed from their siesta at any point

But I have a link for you so that you can decide if you want to fly to Spain for your holidays in the near future



Lexa – let me have your address again to send another prize.


England by Thursday morning – if you feel like having a chat give me a call – 07500 562 776.  If I don’t answer, maybe there is some swell after all and I will be catching my first English wave in over a decade.  I will be visiting The Battle of Britain Memorial near to Dover on the way in, before heading to either Camber Sands Bay for a surf check (remember the Inbetweeners caravan trip) or up to Joss Bay, just outside of Margate.  I may then venture up to Cromer on the east coast in my efforts to find an english wave

Still no sign of Verity – and I haven’t heard from Max in a long time either – where is everyone ?? come to think of it, Jo Beach too.  I know Sue is still with us though, I finally had a message last week.

Cannock Chase on Tuesday next week with Steve-o and Rue before returning to Brasil on Thursday 17th.  McCoy, last time we spoke you were living not far from there – come on – get in touch.


Rock on

Belgian Chuggers

Just realised that the missing McCoy may well be off giving birth so may have her hands full at the moment – I would imagine her fanny might be pretty full too !

I think it is Belgian ‘bob-a-job’ week here this week.  There are plagues of scouts and guides on the square trying to sell cakes to raise cash.  Someone should have told them to spread out a little though, it’s almost like bashing through a crowded tube station full of them.  I must have had my best ‘feck off’ frown on because not one of them bothered me.  One downside with Belgians is they all speak so many languages.  If they approach you in french, you could blag that you only speak Flemish but chances are, they speak both.  You could also say you are english but damn sure they will know that one, my only other options are Spanish and Portuguese.

My more avid readers (like that one Musher?) will know my views on charity in the street but for those ‘part timers’ let me refresh you.  I do give to charities but only charities I like.  I don’t like to feel obliged by someone cornering me and trying to harass me on the street – these people, although only doing a job, are likely to get a very uncomfortable response from me.

Think back to a time in Mallorca when one rainy day steeped in self-pity, I realised that my life wasn’t so bad walking to work in the rain and passing a tramp (I am assuming that word is still OK with the PC brigade).  The tramp had clearly been out all night in the same rain.  That night, I bought a flask and some soup, some bread and delivered it to the tramp the next morning.  Long story short, the tramp, although in Mallorca, turned out to be from Glasgow and his name was Brian.  Brian had managed to lose the flask in the first day so I couldn’t refill it for him.  On telling the story to a new girlfriend who worked as a landscape gardener, we went and found Brian.  She cleaned him up and gave him a job working with her.

He lasted a week – or should I say, he lasted until he had some cash in his pocket and immediately went out on the piss for 5 days and back to his park bench, never to return to the attractive german girl who had given him a golden chance (and a shower too but not a golden one).

Why am I telling you all of this?  Well (takes a deep breath as this really did take the piss), yesterday afternoon when I left the local store, the guy that is always outside on his knees, cap in hand was there again.  He is there a lot.  I have on several occasions given him some change until one time not too long ago I saw him with another trampy friend, cap in hand, on his knees, half cut on the Belgian equivalent of ‘Special Brew’.  At that point, I decided I was not going to fuel his alcohol habit.  If a man is hungry – buy him a sandwich!

Against my better judgement, and again, feeling sorry for the poor fella, I decided to drop my loose change from the shop keeper in his hat yesterday.  This is where it all went so badly wrong from the tramps perspective.  My spend in the shop had been somewhat guarded and I used change rather than notes.  This meant that I only had a few coppers to give.  I actually felt bad about this – I was about to make a gift to a man in need and I was worried that it was not enough. Think about that as a society for a moment.  In the act of giving, we chastise ourselves over the value of the gift – why do we feel this bad about not giving enough? I’ll tell you why.

That cheeky bastard – I dropped the change into the hat, he immediately looked in the hat to see what I had dropped in, making no effort to disguise his head and eye movement – THEN, the fucker, looked back at me with sad eyes and disappointment on his face making me feel like some kind of clueless twat for offering a little help.  So fuck him from now on, I will never feel guilty again as I walk past him – in fact, I can go one better.  Next time I am walking down the street and make eye contact with him, I will obviously and deliberately cross the street, while maintaining eye contact, pass further along before returning to the original side of the street – all of the time, never taking my eyes off him.  If at any time he looks like he might look away from me, I will change my direction back towards him and slide my hand in my pocket until I can see his sad teary eyes light up and then, with full eye contact, I will pull my hand out of my pocket, flick him the bird and return to the clean side of the street. Mother fuckers !!!

But it doesn’t stop there.  In the UK on Saturday morning with Bill from Ohio, USA, I stopped and bought a ‘Big Issue’ from a vendor.  I used to buy the Big Issue a lot, in fact, I can clearly remember when it was only a pound.  I had explained the way the big issue works to Bill for homeless people and suggested that it actually is a good read (I sincerely mean that folks – don’t be put off by these guys appearance).  The Big Issue is now two pounds and fifty pence – a hefty increase.  So hefty in fact that I stopped buying it for fear of becoming bankrupt myself due to their ever-increasing costs.  So , I approach the vendor, start rummaging through my change laden pocket for some dosh and pulled out 3 pounds.  Have a guess what that cheeky bastard said to me?

‘Do you want the change?’

For fucks sake – it seems the gift of giving is no longer enough.  I wanted to say ‘of course I do you cheeky cunt’ but clearly english wasn’t his first language and my rant would have been wasted on him.

Now that you know all of that, you might forgive me for never giving to charity again – but – when we get our hearts broken, do we stop chasing pussy ?  Of course not.  I still give to charity.  Poppy Appeal always gets a tenner in the pot – most of the old boys say ‘that’s a lot of money’ when they see me dropping it in – I always respond with a smile as I say ‘A small price to pay for freedom’ as I take my poppy.  RNLI always gets a donation, not just because I work at sea but many years ago I used to surf a lot in England.  I never needed them, but they were always there if I did. Lastly ‘Battle of Britain Fighter Pilots’ always used to get a tenner from me.  They were a rarity years ago but now they are nearly all gone.  I did see a collection at Clacket Lane Services around two years ago and gave generously and took my sticker.


Now, moving on, I am about to head into the forest on my bike for a couple of hours.  My T-shirt fits and looks great, it’s about now that yours will be dropping through your door if you were a winner (Lex, yours may take up to 7 days).  Remember, the next competition is open to T-shirt winners only and requires  a minimum of three photos (there can be more) of you wearing your shirt, and one of those must be wet.  Not being sexist in any way – the boys must also comply.  Entry into the next competition is automatic and for this round, the judge with be the public at large so wear it well.


Congratulations to Amy Cooper for getting hacked



Verity McCoy – Where are you ?

This will be a long one – best make a cuppa right now.

Let me start off with the inevitable – England football team.  As always a complete shower of shit, at least they are consistent.  Do they not appreciate the fact that we, the people, cannot survive on a world cup victory from before I was born, we need several more.  I never fully understood the mentality of the English National Team, but let me explain a little.  Below is a clipping from the BBC website from the morning of the Uruguay match (before the game was even starting) – just have a quick read

How to win at football

How to win at football


Now, please call me old-fashioned but I for one assumed that the best way to win the world cup was to go to the stadium, get your kit on and then realise that the you have to win every fecking game you play instead of looking for the strangest, most convoluted way around loosing and still getting through.  That’s just me though, a common sense, no-nonsense midlands boy – what would I know?

There are also some benefits of being an ex pat.  Last week we headed into the centre of Brussels to watch their team play.  Everyone dressed in the national colours or flying the Belgian flag and no-one being called a racist for doing so.  It was a happy affair, all were jolly and most definitely a little drunk but all having a good time – AND THEY WON !!!!  It was a good experience.  Today, they play again at 13:00 so I will walk down to the square at the bottom of the street where they have a big screen, pull on my Belgian flagged jesters hat and ham it up with everyone else.  Last match saw an estimated 2500 people on the square so should be fun.  Kick off is not for a few hours yet, in fact it is only 08:30 but there is already one keen fan walking down the street blowing  a vuvuzela.

So England – stop fucking about and get on with it.  Remember though – Anyone but Scotland right?

Moving on

Currently resting after getting back from Brazil last week then spending 5 days entertaining guests that have just left for Paris this morning – hence the early posting.  I have had a little tourist plod around Belgium but also, some of you may find this hard to believe, that stinky swamp infested shit hole called London. A very famous wax museum, London Bridge, Tower Bridge, Tower of London, London Eye, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben & the Houses of Parliament.  I was impressed – for this little day and a half trip, I still had some small change from the 1 million pounds I took with me!

Actually, it wasn’t so bad.  Even found a Fish and Chip shop on Baker Street that served fish, chips and mushy peas for just over 50 quid for 4 people.  It was very tasty too.  A place called ‘Holmes’ very close to Baker St tube if you fancy it ?  I was impressed – I had 3 septics with me who all wanted to try the legendary fish and chip experience – I told them they also needed to try mushy peas and they weren’t disappointed.

The septics are now off to Paris for a week to meet some other family and then they will all do battle with the striking garlic munchers to get out of Paris again to  complete their holidays.  Train and Plane strikes to come this week. God bless the French – I often wonder why we didn’t just leave them for the Germans.

On a lighter note

The Magnificent Seven

You know who you are but for the benefit of others…….







Lynsey (spelt correctly you might note)


These are the recent competition winners and it gives me great pleasure to announce that your winners shirts have been dispatched and should all arrive within 1 week.  There is of course the required mandatory entry into the next competition – I need at least 3 photos of you all, while wearing your winners shirt. As the missus suggested when completing her competition entry, one of those photos should be a wet T-shirt photo and YES – that means the boys too!  So get your shirt on and get snapping – Remember, at least three (you can send more) and you must be wearing the shirt in all of them.  emailed to the usual address for me.  The winner of the ‘best photo’ will receive something very special by return.  Closing date will be in a few weeks time but don’t delay, click today.

Anyone with information as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Verity Smith (Nee McCoy) please let me know.  despite posting an entry for the competition, she has yet to be in touch again with her address for the winners shirt.

There are only 9 of these shirts in circulation, I have Nº 1, the other 8 are owned by the Magnificent Seven listed above. Clever bunnies will appreciate there are 8 names on the list – just remember, as competition rules go, my decision is always final and Connor is a very lucky boy.  I fully expect a stunning array of photos from him.

Later today, I will be watching the Austrian GP – an all Williams front row – I bet no-one saw that coming, most likely not even Massa (avoiding the obvious joke about the object that hit him a couple of years ago).  Good luck to them, that’s all I will say. My money is on ………………


Now please let me sleep for a while, I haven’t had a full nights sleep since we set sail from Ft Lauderdale, Florida on 19th May.  As I now have a month off, expect some epic adventure




As Roy Orbison once said – It’s Over !!

A successful trip I have to tell you.  On the 26th February I secured my Scuba Instructor license.  Now, I am ready to leave, back to the cold, rainy dampness that is called Europe.

I am looking forward to it I have to say.  I have one last run planned in my old trainers before I relegate them to the bin and then I can collect my car and get ready for the road trip back to Belgium.

The trusty ‘Specialized’ is still in pieces, I hope I can remember how it all goes back together after 3 weeks or more away.  I am now only 1 month away from returning to work – that saddens me a little but you never know, maybe I won the lottery while I was away and work would be a thing of the past.

Security continues to tighten around the resort.  You have to feel sorry for the locals though, they work hard and are very friendly but the place is empty through no fault of theirs.  I met a local shop owner the other day who told me his business had been going down the pan since the troubles here began.

I am looking forward to having a razz in my car too – funny how I always am excited to be getting back behind the wheel of that motor.  As hard as I remember, I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a motor quite as much, even back to the old LeasePlan days where it was not unusual to have a car sitting on my driveway that was worth more than the house – The Rangie just ticks all the boxes.

So, back to the grind as it were.  Tuesday morning will see me hit the Brussels forest for the first time in almost a month – that will be a pleasure I know, then the scamble to get the bike back up to speed and all will be back to normality (or as they say in Lana’s world ‘normalcy’).

I am tired, if not exhausted and am not looking forward to the slog back to England but it has to be done. Goodbye Sharm El Sheikh – Hello Europe.

Ryanair flight of Terror

Ah the romance of sailing the Atlantic soon wears thin.  Still 8 days to go before we reach Mallorca and I am very bored.  To make things worse, there is bugger all wind which means we motor a lot.  The huge downside of motoring is that you loose the stability of having a sail full of wind.  For the last 2 days now we have been rolling rail to rail and it makes even the simple tasks very hard.  Having a shower, taking a dump or even just getting dressed become severe physical challenges.

My right knee is now very sore from where I have been wedging myself in my bunk between the wall and my lee cloth. Gibraltar is still 6 days away, where we get to stop for a few hours and fill the tanks yet again with another 25,000 litres of diesel.

I have also, for the very first time, booked a ticket on Ryanair.  The only airline I could find that fly direct from Palma to Brussels.  The total cost of my ticket just 45€ – I wondered how they could do it so cheaply.  Maybe they water the fuel down, or share critical parts with other aeroplanes or maybe have strangers fly the planes rather than fully qualified pilots?  The 45€ also included a 10€ fee for me choosing a lanky twat seat so it really was a deal.

I just know that when I get to the airport there will be something I have missed, some obscure tick box on the web page that I forgot to tick and the fee for correcting my error will be another 150€.  If you don’t complete your online check in, or take your printed out tickets with you, you get charged an additional 70€ at the desk or you don’t fly.  The web page adds every additional extra you could imagine, it then becomes your responsibility to take it all off or you get charged for it, and some of it is hard to find.

My flight is on 26th April so be sure to check back again then to see how it went.

Now, I need to get back to rolling across the ocean.



Back to Work!

All seems to be over too quickly but it is almost the end of the month and I have now been ‘holidaying’ since 6th March.

Tomorrow my Virgin Atlantic takes off  at 09:40 in the morning for the return leg back to Antigua before a short hop on ‘Miracle Airlines’ down to St Lucia the following day.  Looks like we may have a week there before we set sail to cross the Atlantic once more – that should give me time to try out the legendary scuba in St Lucia although I will have a little bit of work to do before the boat is ready to leave.

Here’s looking forward to another boring 17 days at sea heading for, as my friend Mase from the Black Forrest calls it ‘Pussy Island’ – due mainly to the large amounts of ferrel cats there (ahem)!  I always maintain though, better a boring crossing than a crossing where I am fighting for my life – always a sobering thought.

Popped into the Comics Cafe in downtown Brussels yesterday for one of their ‘Obilix’ burgers.  Any burger that costs 26€ has to be something special, and this was an absolute monster.  The missus was paying so I also followed up with some American Cheesecake.  After a week of hanging pictures, blinds and changing light bulbs and fittings – she owed me !!  Anyway, while we were there, we noticed an old kids annual – Wayne Thunder and the Lost Continent.  I could hardly resist a photo, I mean, the guy on the cover is a spitting image of me.

Let me leave you with a final thought before I hit the subways of Brussels heading for the Eurostar –


The XX second album, just doesn’t hit the spot in the way the first one did – discuss !


See you soon munters !!



A crazy little daisy, too vile to breathe

Most urgent news – the car fits in the garage after all, couple of inches spare all around – let the rejoicing begin!

Last night at our ‘make your own’ pizza party, I actually met a real life dude called Zoltan!

Now, let me be serious for a while.  Having spent a little time in England for the last two weeks, I couldn’t help but watch some of the quality day time TV.  Dog the Bounty Hunter for instance.  First class american tv, with the blonde flowing locks of a steroid dependent loud mouth with his entourage of hard men heroes running around in combat gear brandishing their paint guns, not to mention his cannon ball of a wife running around shouting louder than everyone else – it is pure shit – what can I say?

Then of course, the Jeremy Kyle Show.  I am always amazed that this show can continually find the dumbest people in the country and get them on the show.  I was curious though, the audience looked considerably more intelligent than the guests and I started wondering about a couple of things.

1. When your other half tells you that you are going out for the day to the Jeremy Kyle show, how do you know if you will be in the audience or a guest

2. What morals do these guests have to have done some of these things and actually believe it ok to behave like that

So the first question is easy.  Your other half tells you they have tickets for the show, are you a guest or audience?  Count your teeth.  I have never seen a guest on JK’s show with more than half of their teeth so have a quick look in the mirror – missing a few and you could go either way, missing a lot, and you are undoubtedly a guest rather than one of the more beautiful and IQ rich audience participants

Question 2 bothers me because these chavs really see no problem with what they do. It bothers me because they form part of our democratic society and can have their say in the way the country is run – that is scary.

I also often wonder if JK himself is pleased with his work, his contribution to society.  I can imagine being a TV presenter as being something to be hugely proud of, like Sir David Attenborough scouring the world to bring highly entertaining and educational programmes to the world, or the news reader Trevor MacDonald impartially reporting on the workings of a mad world each day, but Kyle, does he actually sleep at night.  Does he look in the mirror at the end of the day and congratulate himself for a good day at the office ? I hope not.

I would like to see Dog the Bounty Hunter chasing down Grant Mitchell for a full on bit of London Gangster banter.  I would of course also like to see Jeremy Kyle stuck in the village stocks for a long weekend so that the decent public of the UK can cover him in rotten fruit and veg at their own leisure.

Enough of that – I would like to say that on my first road trip in the Rangie – it performed faultlessly and proved to be a very comfortable ride for the 6 hours between Rugby and Brussels.  Next month it will take on another epic trip between Brussels and Palma de Mallorca.  I was hugely happy that it did indeed fit in the garage today.  Beers are on me

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