William Topaz McGonagall

Time for culture I think. Culture with a capital 'K' at that! I refer of course to what Spike Milligan called that great "Poet, tragedian and twit," William Topaz McGonagall! This man has become one of Scotland's most famous sons.
Not because of his great talent, indeed his fame comes from the lack of them!
William was born of Irish parents in Edinburgh sometime between 1825 and 1830, depending on who you believe. His family eventually settled in Dundee and although he had some education, most of Wullie's time was spent as a hand loom weaver. He claimed that in 1877 he discovered
the 'muse' had come upon him and he was a poet. He had already tried out the acting in 'Macbeth.' From this moment on he began a life as a poet, travelling around performing in pubs and halls wherever he was welcome. He was always welcomed, for while he perceived himself to be a poet the audience perceived him to be a 'Bam!' It became the thing to invite him to give a reading just so the motley crew gathered there could ridicule him, sometimes in the most violent manner. Abused and assaulted, pelted with rotten veg and other vile armoury he continued nonetheless to believe in himself and his abilities as a poet. All this, in spite of the reality! On one occasion he walked fifty miles to Balmoral to see Queen Victoria in person. The police constable at the gate turned him away in a fashion that would not occur in these politically correct days. It was also strongly emphasised that he should not return! Over two hundred poems were published during his twenty five year long literary career, a career which even took him to New York at one stage, but he was quickly on the boat home again.
Did he realise he was a joke to the world, and therefore play to them as this was his only means of income? Some would say so. Sadly it appears he may well have considered himself equal to Burns and other famous bards. His poetry has however remained popular, mostly because it is awful! Because of this he has become one of Scotland's most loved, and quoted poets. Not however in the higher echelons of Scots poetic society! Maybe had he read Burns a little closer he would have considered more the line "To see ourselves as others see us," and gone back to the weaving. It would have been our loss mind if he had!

William wrote this when the Tay bridge was opened in September 1878:-

The Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay

BEAUTIFUL Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay !
With your numerous arches and pillars in so grand array
And your central girders, which seem to the eye
To be almost towering to the sky.
The greatest wonder of the day,
And a great beautification to the River Tay,
Most beautiful to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.

Sadly this bridge was struck by a gale on the night of the 28th December 1879, and the design faults and construction failures led to a weakening of the central girders. As the Edinburgh train reached the 'High Girders' the weight and the gale combined to bring the edifice crashing down into the Tay. The Tay is wide at this point and is renowned as carrying the largest volume of water in the UK. There were no survivors. The engine was eventually lifted from the depths and went back into use until 1908. With typical Scots black humour it became known as 'The Diver.'

Once again William Topaz McGonagall found reason to write, and produced what has become his most quoted poem. It gives an excellent example of his style, if that is the word, and surely leaves a desire with all readers for more!

The Tay Bridge Disaster

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.


Those who wish to learn more about this great man, and surely you want to, can find his poems at 'McGonagall Online.'
Well worth a browse over the Christmas period.

News Reporting

Funny how news is reported. A train crash in Pakistan gets little mention in our press, even though around fifty people are dead and almost two hundred injured. It is not important because it happened far away, and anyway Pakistan is where all the terrorists are to be found is it not? None of our folks are involved so who cares?
Some years ago a daily tabloid reported an avalanche in the French Alps which killed several and injured dozens under the headline 'Two Britons Safe!' But the short story only mentioned the dead at the end.
When Glen Hoddle was manager of England the Bishops Stortford local paper referred to him in one story, not as the England manager, but as, '...Glen Hoddle, who used to own a sports shop in the High Street...' Now I am not saying some folks are a bit introspective but.....
I did notice that apart from a passing reference nobody has bothered about the train crash, 'hands free' driving and government slackness counts for more.

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Nothing to do with Arbroath is one of those blogs that leave you wondering whether what you read is funny or sad. A collection of weird and wonderful stories from around the world. The stories often appear crude, but not for the sake of it, and do show us the strange, sad experiences of folk worldwide. This is one of those blogs you must look at and see what you make of it. Some of it is hilarious, but isn't that the way when others get into trouble!

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As one or two of you will read this at what you call 'work,' I have come across this little game to fill in the time before you have a break. It is a simple Paper Aeroplane game, which most of my more intelligent readers will already have discovered. There should be a health and safety warning about that fan, it's dangerous!

Magna Carta

The Magna Carta was a document drawn up in 1213 by the then Archbishop of Canterbury , one Stephen Langton. His intention was probably to secure his church from attacks by King John rather than purely humanitarian or democratic ideals. The barons of the day, sick of Johns demands for money and failed foreign policies, supported his intentions and forced John to agree to limit his powers and sign the document at Runnymede. This document was revised on occasion and for some time considered irrelevant. Later parliamentarians rediscovered the ideals contained therein and brought it back to prominence - for their own sake. True humanitarian gestures are rare, and the nobles who signed the original were in no hurry to let their vassals force them into similar gestures! In Cromwell's day his middle class landowner attitudes affected his understanding of democracy also.

The Magna Carta is seen by some as the first statement of democracy, no matter how limited. But it was not the only such statement of freedoms in those distant days. In 1320 The Scots nobles, no doubt aware of Magna Carta also made clear their free state in the Declaration of Arbroath. Although how many of the common people knew, or cared, about this is unclear.

Whether the French understood the principles in Magna Carta or not, they did have themselves a revolution in the eighteenth century which some like to see as walking in the same footsteps. This in turn is seen as the precursor of the American Declaration of Independence in 1776. The American dream is in many hearts based on the Pilgrim fathers and the Declaration of Independence, Life, Liberty and filling your pockets with cash! The idea of bullying other nations and invading them when it takes your fancy appears to be an 'add on.' The Yanks were of course to busy killing Indians, oops sorry, 'Native Americans,' after they found their freedom and taking their land, or ensuring black men, oops 'African Americans,' stayed as slaves, to bother about other nations. Once of course they had grabbed all they could and released the slaves, and kept the 'Jim Crow' laws, they cleared the Spanish out of the Philippine's and then grabbed it for themselves. It takes more than a document or two and a 'myth' of a nation to bring freedom.

However, the Americans do look to the Magna Carta with admiration as the basis on which their nation is founded. Those that have not been spending their time drinking Coca Cola or shooting one another have of course been worshipping at the throne of Mammon! As such one chap has spent £10.6 million (that's $21.32 to you) on the only copy in private hands. It had belonged to Ross Perot the one time presidential candidate, and you will be pleased to hear, now is in ownership by David Rubinstein, whoever he is!

This leaves me wondering, what would you spend £10.6 million on? A rare important document, or something substantial? I like things. I like expensive things that are worth the money, but for a document that you cannot touch because of its age, not keep in the house because of its value, not do anything with except say,"Hey. it's mine!" No thanks. Stick it in a museum and let the folks see it. Tell the kids its history, even if they are bored, but spend your money on something useful. Perot will use the money on wounded veterans and medical research, which sounds more useful. I wonder what Rubinstein does with the rest of his cash?

Bloggers Unite

Bloggers Unite to do something good today!

So I have decided to do something good for all my friends, relatives and associates. In fact the whole wide world!
I am going to leave them alone!

That usually puts a smile on their faces.

How to be an Idiot. No. 65

This lesson in idiocy is a simple one.

First decide there is too much 'stuff' on the PC, and then remove it.
Use all the usual tools, 'Ad-Aware,' 'AVG' and the like, then progress to a little function called 'Find Junk Files.' A useful tool for removing dead links and,would you believe, junk files.
Simply run these programmes and delete.
Easy.

The important thing of course, especially with the 'Find Junk Files' operation, is to fail to check just what exactly is being deleted! It is clearly displayed in front of you, and a check is recommended, but of course you need not bother because, 'They are all junk surely?' is the grand attitude!
At least that as my attitude.

Now the CD Rom will not play, the 'My Documents' and 'My Pictures,' files will open but fail to display, and I await with trepidation whatever else will malfunction during the course of the day.

The 'Zibbi' Disease

We have it now! yes indeed the Heart of Midlothian have been diagnosed with the 'Zibbi' disease. It is fair to say that, like so many other diseases, it was avoidable. The disease first showed itself during another Heart of Midlothian trouncing of Hibernian. The Hibs goalie, one, and we thought there was only 'one, let the ball squirm Zbigniew Malkowski made unfortunate errors and allowed the Hearts to obtain the goals their performance so clearly deserved. However, it grew from this. In league and cup semi finals, 'Zibbifrom his hands, or found himself out of position. he did not know how to react to the Hearts fans calling his name, poor lad.
Hibernian of course decided this could not go on and dropped him and replaced him with a goalkeeper named Brown. A fine Scots name and surely 'continental' goalkeeping was a thing of the past. Wrong! 'Broon' was just another 'Zibbi' after all, and has vanished from the scene. Call upon a Scotland Youth, and Under 21, goalkeeper Andy McNeil. This young man has a fine career ahead of him. A steady goalkeeper, learning his trade, developing fast, and one for the future, possibly even a full Scotland international. He blew it. Twice!
How we laughed! Now I am not one to gloat over another's fall, and being an exceedingly bad goalkeeper myself in my time, the best and most important player on the football pitch, I am certainly not trying to put these men down - but it is funny!


We are not laughing now!
Oh no. Since Vlad arrived as owner, and Craig Gordon moved to Sunderland we too have developed 'Zibbi' disease. How? By simply allowing the owner to pick the team! We have a very good, although ageing, goalkeeper in Steve banks. here we have a mature player, knowledgeable about the game, experienced, popular with the fans, and he is not playing. Just because we needed a goalkeeping coach after the previous man moved on, and Banksie took over his duties, someone, Vlad, appears to think he is not competent to play the game! Jings!
fumbled the ball and we lost! Having forty thousand people crying 'Instead of wearing out the poor man we play two other goalies who are not fit to wear the Hearts jersey. How does that make sense? Basso, the Frenchman played against Celtic, had little to do, made one mistake for the goal right enough, and has been dropped. Kurskis, who we all know from the reserve games he has played, clearly is not up to the job. Three minutes from the end today we lost the game. Having been poor in the first half, as indeed were Rangers, we let them score via a mistake, then struggled to get the ball into their half. During the second half we played better, attacked them and scored with seventeen minutes left. We could at that pint have won the game, and certainly got a point. However, near the end KurskisHee Haw' donkey fashion cannot be good for ones confidence! Both are good enough for a lower level, both are good shot stoppers, but so was I! Neither are good enough for the Heart of Midlothian! So why play them? The 'Zibbi' disease comes back on us. A mature, competent, non 'Zibbi' goalkeeper is a must Vlad, or even easier, play Banks! Oh, and get a proper manager at the same time!

This is no way to run a football club Vlad!

Social Networking

So a friend, who shall not be named, let's just call her 'Blackberry Juniper,' tells me I must join 'Facebook.' Obedient to the last, and knowing how evil women can be, I enlisted. Time passes and I still have no idea what this is all about! I have a garden which includes a bunny and a donkey! Gifts that appear to be no more than pictures, and am constantly bombards with 'notifications' that someone wants to talk to me on a 'wall.' First it was 'The Wall,' then the 'Super Wall,' or the 'Advanced Wall,' there is also a 'Graffiti Wall' and several others. Each notification uses a different way of communication, why? Just what is the point of these things? Can these folk not just e-mail like normal folks, or text like kids?

What is worse two folk from the past have turned up! Now as it happens these people are OK, although one speaks only in 'text speak' and therefore I have no idea what she is saying. Which may be a benefit of course! However the lass who started all this has gone quiet and has not responded to the many 'gifts' I have sent her, 'free' of course. I even sent her a present to put under her pagan and ungodly Christmas tree - yes I was forced to have one also! Well I need the presents don't I!

The other day a card arrived from up North in the land of constant wind, rain and these days, sleet! My sweet ten year old great niece, sweet to those who don' t know the brat, wrote the family Christmas cards. This is because her writing is better than her mothers and if she had not done it they would never be sent. her mother managed to send the cards in time a couple of years ago, and on enquiring how he done it met the reply, "They are from last year. I forgot to post them!" Right enough. Before that she had sent my expensive gift to my brother by mistake. I hope it fitted!

Anyway this trainee juvenile delinquent 'just happened' to mention her 'Bebo' address on the card. I understood she had obtained one of these by blackmailing her dad, but had not been informed of the address. Naturally I took the bait like any great uncle fearful of the consequences of not responding, and struggled to open a 'Bebo' account just to please the whelp. Naturally, after spending an evening tying to understand, and failing, how to set the thing up as I require, no trace of the brats account could be found. Either she has had it closed in the few days since writing the cards or it is an incorrect address.

Now I have two 'social networking' sites I could live without, clumps of hair lying around the chair, and some tell me these things are amongst the 'must haves' of today. I am off back to my 'The Might That Was Assyria' book, I find cuneiform tablets easier to understand. First person to say 'Peace' gets it!

The BBC

The BBC is a public service broadcaster, designed to bring the best in television and radio to the United Kingdom. Tonight I decided not to watch the too smart know-all kids on 'Junior Mastermind,' and the snooker is too slow for my mood. Turning to 'Freeview' I discovered that in spite of the indoor aerials inability to show a complete picture every time a vehicle passes by I could obtain a clear picture from BBC 4. What delight do we find on the channel, set up at enormous cost, for the intellectual elite? Batman! Batman! a series that began in 1966 and was too stupid for the five year olds of the nation! Now it is presented to the adult twenty some things who BBC 4 is aimed at! Stone the crows! 'Clunk' and 'Kapow!' Bad acting and cameras at odd angles. I believe there is a story line, but I could be wrong. Something is wrong somewhere!

I am paying something like £138 a year, which I can hardly afford, for a TV licence. This money goes towards paying for the BBC. This money I am happy to pay if I could find some programmes worth watching. Instead I find soap opera after soap opera, each the same, the good guy, the bad guys (mostly bad these days), the tense story line - adultery, jealousy, anger, malice, maybe murder if the ratings are slow and a disaster every so often. 'Emmerdale,' set in a country village, appears from the intro to have around twenty seven house, a church, a pub and a village hall. There are one or two farms around, employing maybe three people at most, and little else. In its time there has been around 300 divorces, fifteen murders, several fires and car crashes and on top of this, so to speak, a plane fell on the village! The intro has never changed! OK, that one is on ITV not the Beeb, but they are all the same. The Beebs 'EastEnders' has the record of fewest smiles in a programme. In nearly twenty years nobody has ever smiled or grinned, ever! Although 'Dirty Den' may have smirked after punching someones lights out occasionally, but that's different.

Drama in days of yore used to mean a cop series or what was then called a 'play.' Today drama is no more than a soap opera under another name. Usually a woman is in a man's world fighting male oppression or the barmaid is chasing a priest, and the usual good guys and bad guys fill the screen Even historical programmes are reduced to this dumbed down level. No matter who the historical character may be the trailer for the programme will feature an aggressive man, a stern faced man and a slapper ripping her bodice. Doesn't matter who is the hero, facts are reduced to fit what the audience wants. Factual documentaries are reduced in this way by turning them into dramas with the introduction of actors failing to convey the person they portray.

Now this is a shame. The BBC at its best produces the best documentaries, the best comedies 'Hancock,' 'One Foot in the Grave,' 'Only Fools and Horses' and the like, the best news coverage and yet has for the past twenty years, after Conservative politicians demanded ratings improve if the licence fee should stay, has dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. This is not good enough.

Of course the British part of the name is a misnomer. It really means 'English,' and always has. Some would say it is indeed only the so called 'Home Counties' that matter, the rest can stick as far as London is concerned. They have a point, how often do you hear a Birmingham voice, or one from Norfolk or Cornwall, and there is now way a Geordie would ever get on, nobody could understand them! Scotland of course has a separate BBC up to a point, but only up to a point, the money stays in London. While the Scotland team play games at Hampden Park, Glasgow, the Scots have England shown on their TV! London will not allow enough to buy the rights, so Scotland's home games go to 'SKY!' Shocking!

Nothing funny so far eh? No, but it has filled a few minutes of your life. You sad creature you!
TV is poor, some days I see nothing on a wide variety of channels. Now as you know, TV is a good thing, but let's be honest, while God Creates the devil perverts, and so much is just not worth watching. Talk shows in which people's broken lives are held up to world scrutiny really make me mad! They are happy to use daft folk to get ratings and make money. I would love to help these folk and hate seeing them ridiculed by an audience of cretins. This is not right!

Television is a wonderful invention (a Scot was the inventor by the way) and has many uses. Parliament debates on one hand live football on the other, it educates kids as well as bores the parents. It keeps us company when alone and saves many in our fragmented society from despair. It can be good, so why is it I find myself so often looking for a book? Oh well.

Did Someone Say....?

Did you ever say things like this.....?
Michael Owen England Footballer :
"I was really surprised when the FA knocked on my doorbell".

"None of Croatia players would get into the current England team".

Better make it six, I can't eat eight."
Dan Osinski, Baseball pitcher, when a waitress asked if he wanted his pizza cut into six or eight slices

"The Holocaust was an obscene period in our nation's history. I mean in this century's history. But we all lived in this century. I didn't live in this century."
Dan Quayle, former U.S. Vice-President

"Sure there have been injuries and deaths in boxing - but none of them serious." Alan Minter, Boxer

"Traffic is very heavy at the moment, so if you are thinking of leaving now, you'd better set off a few minutes earlier." Anonymous Traffic Report

"We are unable to announce the weather. We depend on weather reports from the airport, which is closed, due to weather. Whether we will be able to give you a weather report tomorrow will depend on the weather." Arab News report

"Those who survived the San Francisco earthquake said, "Thank God, I'm still alive." But, of course, those who died, their lives will never be the same again." Barbara Boxer, Senator

"After playing Cameroon in the 1990 world cup finals: "We didn't underestimate them. They were just a lot better than we thought" Bobby Robson

"Most cars on our roads have only one occupant, usually the driver."
Carol Malia, BBC Anchorwoman

"My sister's expecting a baby, and I don't know if I'm going to be an uncle or an aunt." Chuck Nevitt, North Carolina State basketball player, explaining to Coach Jim Valvano why he appeared nervous at practice.

"We are not ready for an unforeseen event that may or may not occur."
Dan Quayle, former U.S. Vice President

"There's going to be a real ding-dong when the bell goes."
David Coleman, Sportscaster

"There is Brendan Foster, by himself, with 20,000 people"
David Coleman, Sportscaster

"We don't like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out."
Decca Records Rejecting the Beatles, in 1962

Friday Night

Friday Night. Everybody is out gallivanting, or being hassled by wives and families, possibly just getting over the week and resting the brain that has been tested once too often this week. This means they are unable to post therefore leaving us, the unwanted dregs of society, to post away into the ether. Possibly this means our scribblings may never be read, but will that hinder us? No! However it is with regret that I find myself with nothing worth posting! Tsk! So, I will scrape the barrel bottom just to fill time while my gruel is burning on the pot hanging over the fire.

I could make mention of the award given to me by that wise man Sicarii. Yes another award, (excuse me while I stand in front of the mirror patting my hair while a bright glint is seen emanating from my teeth). While I grasp this with both hands (please excuse the filth on them, I have just washed my face), I must refrain from adding it to the board itself. You see he, and many others, post specifically about their spiritual lives while I just rant and spout whenever I have had too much coffee, or the Prozac runs out. Some may have noticed this.... While gratefully received it would intimate the blog is something it cannot be and give the wrong impression. I leave such blogs to those who can properly write them, I just spout whatever flits through my mind, leaving me able to cover other important subjects, Football, er...and,.......... there must be something else...

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Quizzes
I am watching the 'Eggheads' quiz at the moment, as the smell of burning gruel drifts past, and I wonder what is it about such programmes that take hold of us? I first started listening to the 'Brain of Britain' quiz around 1975/6 time, and I have been hooked ever since! Why? What is it about the general knowledge quiz ? I very rarely miss this programme, even though the excellent Robert Robinson no longer holds sway, and thoroughly enjoy a quiz that is much too hard for my little bonce. A recent radio programme investigated the 'Pub Quiz' and the somewhat cynical presenter admitted at the end he was hooked! Small five question quizzes appear in most papers these days and several people can be seen struggling to find the answers. Such a simple formula and so satisfying when a high score is reached! TV and radio stations must have some for of quiz show. Often these are dumbed down, a simple choice of three answers from a stupidly easy question to help raise cash from those calling in, or just to offer a prize that will keep the audience eager. Flashing lights and big name 'celebrities' to ask questions helps ratings, especially when some over hyped lass is in tears at her £several thousand pound success. This begs the question,why must they all be so hyped up? A dull show we do not want but hysteria, is it really necessary? The calmer scene on 'Mastermind,' or 'University Challenge' does not detract from the show, but maybe tabloid everything is what sells best in this world. Funny how worldwide a little thing like a quiz can be so popular
Hmmm I did not do too well on this edition of Eggheads, the questions must have got harder!. And while I scrape this black stuff from the pot I will consider a little quiz for next week maybe.

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Joke

On the way to my job this morning, I rear-ended a car at the lights down the road.
Somehow I just knew it was going to be a bad day after that.
The driver got out of the other car, and he was a dwarf, poor soul.
He looked at his dented car and then looked up at me and said angrily "I am not happy"
I said, "Well, which one are you then?"

Anyway that's how the fight started.......

Tagged - Again!

Now I am not one to complain, as everybody knows, nor am I vindictive and vengeful, however, I have been tagged by a man who will remain anonymous, namely Mulled Vine
Claiming I have too much free time he passed this on to me to fill my day! Ptah! I have been very busy today, so busy I only went back to my bed twice! However, being the nice guy that I am, I have taken several hours of precious time to follow orders. This is the result!

Seven things you did not know about me :-

* I live alone in this cave.
* There are several hundred videos on the shelf. Mostly beginning with Scots football and filled with worthwhile stuff I have added.
* The VCR does not work!
* The 'Bullworker' that leans against the wall was bought in 1970 ish. Had I used if for a few minutes a day as recommended I would now be a muscle bound oaf.
* I am an unfit, weedy & pot bellied oaf!
* I mostly read my books in the loo/bath.
* I once spent a night in Cardiff (1976) and have never gone abroad since!

Now the results, without pics as I canny do them............

You Are Olive Green
You are the most real of all the green shades. You're always true to yourself.
For you, authenticity and honesty are very important... both in others and yourself.
You are grounded and secure. It takes a lot to shake you.
People see you as dependable, probably the most dependable person they know.

Hmmmm

Your Superpower Should Be Invisibility
You are stealth, complex, and creative.
You never face problems head on. Instead, you rely on your craftiness to get your way.
A mystery to others, you thrive on being a little misunderstood.
You happily work behind the scenes... because there's nothing better than a sneak attack!

Hmmmm

Why you would be a good superhero: You're so sly, no one would notice... not even your best friends
Your biggest problem as a superhero: Missing out on all of the glory that visible superheroes get

Aye......

You Belong in San Francisco
You crave an eclectic, urban environment. You're half California, half NYC.
You're open minded, tolerant, and secretly think you're the best.
People may dismiss you as a hippie, but you're also progressive, interesting, and rich!

Ageing hippie maybe......

Your English Skills:
Spelling: 100%
Vocabulary: 100%
Punctuation: 60%
Grammar: 20%

Well I speak Lallans actually....

You Are Scissors
Sharp and brilliant, you can solve almost any problem with that big brain of yours.
People fear your cutting comments - and your wit is famous for being both funny and cruel.
Deep down, you tend to be in the middle of an emotional storm. Your own complexity disturbs you.
You are too smart for your own good. Slow down a little - or you're likely to hurt yourself.
You can cut a paper person down to pieces.
The only person who can ruin you is a rock person.
When you fight: You find your enemy's weak point and exploit it.
If someone makes you mad: You'll do everything you can to destroy their life

Sharp and brilliant???????

You Are Not Destined to Rule the World
You are destined for something else...
Like inventing a new type of cupcake.
You just don't have the stomach for brutality.
But watch out - because many people do!

Hmmmm

You Are Bert
Extremely serious and a little eccentric, people find you lovable - even if you don't love them!
You are usually feeling: Logical - you rarely let your emotions rule you
You are famous for: Being smart, a total neat freak, and maybe just a little evil
How you life your life: With passion, even if your odd passions (like bottle caps and pigeons) are baffling to others

Who is Bert?

I should now pass this onto a friend - but I lost all the others I passed the last one on to!
So I will find something else...........

Football

Some time ago a beautiful woman of my acquaintance gave me a little fridge magnet she, in here womanly manner, thought appropriate. It read, 'If a man watches two football matches in a row, he should be declared legally dead.' Now this woman, beautiful, highly intelligent, full of knowledge and common sense, was unfortunately female! This as any intelligent person (e.g. Male) will realise leads to a lack of proportion in understanding just what exactly is important in this world! An unfortunate lack you will agree, but one we have come to expect from the majority of lassies in this world. They will consider wearing the same earrings two days running a sin but never appreciate just how important beating Stirling Albion in the League Cup might be. Tsk!

However, had that lass been around on Saturday she might have flipped her lid a little as I managed to watch three games that day, one after another. How good was that! First I managed to pick up the mighty Heart of Midlothian's struggle against half of Glasgow's evil twins. Now when Celtic arrive in Edinburgh the place is always buzzing. Not only are they a 'big team' (in their own minds) but they share the 'Old Firm' self importance with the other half, Rangers. It is always a delight to rip them apart in that loving football manner that men understand so well. However, although the game started well it soon faded into a dour, dreich encounter that will quickly fade from the mind. Effort and some skill showed up, but goalmouth action was a rarity. Usually these games are played before a baying, howling crowd, with tackles unfit for human consumption appearing all over the park, not on Saturday. Often the ref will fail to control the outburts of temper and bad feeling, none showed on this occasion, and the game, was lifted only by a goalkeeping error and a deserved, blatant last minute penalty. In the days of prehistory I played in more exciting games myself, and played extremely badly I must add!

I followed this up with Portsmouth v Everton. here the best of the English Premiership failed to impress! The English love to claim they have the best league in the world, ignoring Spain of course, and telling the world how good they are. This quality is shown by the lack of English managers and players at the top clubs, but I will not mention that. The Everton display did not inspire respect for any league, defending away from home when one of the top clubs in the league was a poor decision. The second half was better, but although a draw at Portsmouth is commendable this was poor stuff.

Much better was the Aston Villa taking on the mighty Arsenal. This was how to play away from home, all out attack with bundles of skill from Arsenal and deserved goals. As the break approached I thought Villa were about to implode. How wrong I was! The second half was a display of all out attack from Villa that had me on the edge of my seat, except when I fell off!
Excellent game, and the best of the weekend. But I was glad when it finished. Those little Saturday jobs that I had meant to do were still waiting for me, and it was too late by then! Shame eh?

Sunday. A day of rest. Now what better way to rest than to watch the Harrogate Railway play Mansfield Town in the English Cup? Actually, having watched this I consider listening to a woman talk about her baby more interesting, but maybe I am being harsh! To upset the lassie, if she was to know, I also finished up by watching an excited Birmingham City travel to Spurs and beat them 3-2. Jolly good that, much as I would like to see Spurs move up the league, which the will.

All in all a very good football weekend. We held our own, some good, exciting football observed, and now I am surrounded by squalor that has built up from nowhere over the weekend. How come? Anyway, back to the real world. Job seeking is not easy when you are an ageing, injury hit idiot, especially at this time of year. I had invested hopefully in the Lottery as a means of changing the world around me, but that seems to me an unfair system, in so much as someone else always gets what i consider 'my' winnings! Tsk!

I wonder if there are any games on tonight............

Christmas Cards

About this time you will probably be thinking about Christmas cards! This is the time of year you make a list of those folk who ‘must’ have a card sent to them, even though you ignore them the rest of the year, and indeed may not even like them! Families being families and folk being folk, you send them anyway. Now I understand why people get trapped into the Christmas card habit, but fear not I have good news, it is NOT compulsory! I had a legal eagle search the laws of both Scotland and England and nowhere was it compulsory to send a card. So if you don’t send a card to the person you do not like nothing will happen to you, honest. In fact, if you do not send them a card you may well benefit them also as they will be freed next year from the need to keep in touch with you! Hallelujah! One year I put this to the test. I worked out all those I WANTED to send cards to, and all those I thought I ought to keep in touch with. I considered whether it was worth while sending to some, and whether they rally wanted or needed to contact me. After considering how many cards either party might send needlessly I made a list of those I would bless with my cheap cards. I felt no guilt!

The next year, those I had omitted from my ‘must/want to send’ list, omitted me from theirs. We were all glad. Money and effort was no longer wasted. Friendships, occasional and worthwhile, remained. I tell you not to be oppressed by the need to send cards to folk you wish to drop. They may feel the same towards you! Anyway, if within the next year they infer they wish to keep contact no harm is done by the loss of a card, is there?

Now I realise this is not always possible, in the real world compromises must be made. One year I worked in an office staffed with 14 women. At Christmas time these girls gave each other cards. As we sat at desks next to each other, and as most of them were Hindus and the others Muslim, I found this desperate need to give cards somewhat strange. I did point out the novelty of being forced by such to waste money on a card to join the dozen already crowding each desk, however the noise of my protest, and the physical threats if I failed in their duty, was overwhelming, and for the sake of peace I obeyed. I did suggest one car with their name on it, and they could tick it off as it passed, but this was not welcomed. Compromise? Me? Oh yes, the boss,she was an Irish catholic, and very rough I can tell you!

Wise Men?
But consider carefully the cards available. Are they really representative of Christmas as it actually occurred? Matthew is the main man where Christmas is concerned, and Luke tells us from what I think is Mary’s point of view. A child’s birth tends to stick in a girls mind I have discovered. Take the arrival of the magi for instance. These men, usually referred to as ‘Wise men,’ don’t appear to me to be to wise on most Christmas cards do they? Three men on camels, staring up at a very bright, beautifully drawn spectacular star, one pointing skywards implying the other two are to dumb to see the star that lightens the world around and fill a third of the card! Some wise men they! But nowhere does it say three men arrived. They presented three gifts, Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh, but nothing to say how many men arrived. Anyway, three men on camels coming all the way, possibly for the Babylon area, on camels with a vacuum flask and a packet of sandwiches does not appear to my little mind to be too accurate. Each man would have had a party of men with him, servants, probably slaves, several camels and donkeys, and would have joined with as many others as possible to travel the vast distance in safety. One Italian film on St Matthews gospel shows three such men meeting up and travelling together. Each one talking loudly to drown out the hand waving yelling servant hordes with them! That is much more realistic than three lads on their own, and much more biblical in my view also.

Baby in Manger?

But what is in front of these men? Usually a small wooden hut, surrounded by a bright shining yellow glow awaits them. A wooden barn may contain the family, with attendant cow and donkey happy in the background. Everything clan and bright and very Hollywood, and like Hollywood have as much chance of reality as I have of becoming Pope! None at all. It is most likely Jesus was born in a cave. As you probably know better than me (I just think I know a lot, mostly I find others actually know facts), Bethlehem was on a hill, and the folks in Israel used these caves for many purposes. One such was a s a shelter for animals, and sometimes people lived there also. This is not too strange as in the British Isles in days past many folk lived in what sometimes were called ‘Black houses.’ Small stone built houses, divided into two parts. In one side were the animals, in the other the family. The animals helped keep the place warm at least! These turfed roofed houses were still in evidence in some places at the beginning of the 20^th century! It is no wonder that by the time a pregnant Mary and Joseph had walked from Nazareth Bethlehem was full. Yes I said walked, I doubt they would have had the cash for a donkey, and if they had in such a society Joseph would have been the one on the Mule, not her! In the wall of such place a ledge was chipped out and filled with fodder for the animals feedstuffs, and it was into one of these that Jesus, the Son of God, was laid, wrapped in the usual manner in swaddling clothes, to sleep. The place would have been clean as it was possible for a cave barn to be, the animals would have been, well animals, and Mary would have been knackered! As would Joseph, he of course had the hard job in all this. Knowing what they both knew about the announcement of the birth, the arrival of these strange, generous rich men, then the shepherds (the lowest of the low at that time), it would be interesting to read Josephs thoughts as the action occurred around him.

Maybe it is just me that thinks most Christmas cards have little to do with Christmas, just as folks who spout all to easily ‘The real meaning of Christmas’ and bounce over -zealously on the telly in programmes recorded last March, have as much idea of the real Christmas as I have of being rich! Christmas is a time for commercial exploitation, but this does not mean we ought to be Oliver Cromwellian about it. I like Christmas pudding! It is a time to get together with friends and family, it is a time folk find themselves in a church, and it can be a time for bringing good news to those who never hear it. But for Christians it ought to be a time to emphasis the biblical truths, and not half truths expounded on Christmas cards.

There are other cards which reflect a Christmas of the mind as opposed to reality, you know the ones, the happy Victorian scene, the one where a stagecoach glides through the snow filled streets past well dressed happy folks, with kids throwing snowballs and glowing shop windows in the background. Such cards tend to forget the kids had rickets, one third of the population were on the breadline. In fact usually this means is they had a job tomorrow, but often and many as a third did not! The happy folk in the shops were working 98 or more hours a week, and the happy folks who could afford to buy would either die in childbirth or from TB or some disease we use a few drugs to cure. Cynical? No just realistic. Many Victorians were happy, but these scenes are deceptive, I wish a better Christmas, a more honest one.

The Robin sitting on the snow covered branch is another deception, as the bird is with us all year round. It is also an adulterous bully boy in the bird world, very Christmassy, if you are shallow enough to think ‘Eastenders’ is worth watching!
Snow scenes and snowmen abound on cards, this is amazing as outside of the Scottish highlands we never see snow till February ,and anyway snow is cold horrid stuff that freezes everything, causes accidents and I hate it anyway! Send it back to the Arctic where it is needed I say!

Shall I bother to convey my opinions on cards fronted by Santa Claus? Or if you are middle class and ‘Santa’ is too childish for you, change it to ‘Father Christmas’ and make this fairy tale character, usurped by the ‘Coco Cola’ company, into something more acceptable. How many folks enjoy the kiddies belief in ‘Santa Claus’ but never explain the Jesus was lying in that manger in a cave? Burn Santa ‘s sleigh and eat the reindeer I say! And when you are at it ask him why I never got that CD I wanted last time!

‘Peace’ is common, ‘Peace on earth to men’ the cards often claim, although many are now correctly inserting the better ‘peace to men of goodwill’ as opposed to ‘Peace to all men,’ as peace is offered but too often ignored. The Dove with the olive branch is very biblical, at least when the snows melt in February. ‘Joy’ is often seen on cards, and such cards, often in boxed sets, are bought from the local Clintons by miserable looking folk who have not smiled since they won £10 on the first week of the Lottery. ‘Joy’ indeed! But honestly, how many Christians make you feel ‘JOY’ when you meet them? All too few I say. The Holly and the Ivy just sting the fingers and should be placed, neatly, on a compost heap where they would be of more use.

Cards made to placate the politically correct, saying ‘Happy Holiday’ instead of ‘Happy Christmas should be recycled. Companies who insist on such greetings so as not to cause ‘offence’ should be sued for being offensive. Just what exactly should be done to those cards which, when opened, ring out computerised versions of Christmas Carols I leave to your imagination. But if one comes my way I suggest you transfer yourself into any regiment now patrolling in Afghanistan. That would be safer!

Humour
I gave up on religious cards long ago. They do not convey biblical truth, and all to often are discarded unnoticed by the recipient. I only use carefully selected humorous cards, such as the one shown, that is my preferred card this year, as they are better for the folk at the other end. At least they get a laugh! A minister friend had dozens of cards one year, many from folk worldwide, and far too many were routine religious type cards. People were afraid to send something frivolous in case he was offended! Incredible to think that people can be so stupid!
Use cards well, and do not follow convention as that stifles life. If it must be religious make it biblical or forget it! But I think most folks will be happier with humour. That's closer to what it really is all about.

Friday

I was given this award by the Channel of Healing very nice it is too! Not often I get rewarded now is it! I do often get given things mind, folks round here are very helpful, you recall that only the other day I had a note, attached to a brick flung through my window - the note read, "Your window is broken!" Not everybody would take the time to do that, but lots of folk here put themselves out in this way I find.

The north wind doth blow today and it is rattling the windows so to help forget the weather I have stole....acquired some jokes that may, or may not, waste some time for you today.

In a recent poll the British population were asked if Polish immigrants were a problem.

23% said ''Yes its a serious problem''.
77% said ''Czesk bardzo mi milu gdzie d jest toaldta''.

I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman:
"Where's the self-help section?"
She said that if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.

f(x)=6x+3 walks into a bar, goes up to the barman and asks “
Can I have a couple of sandwiches please?”
The barman replies: “Sorry mate, we don’t cater for functions”

I’ve told my wife I want a wooden leg for Christmas.
It’s not my main present; it’s more of a stocking filler.

Q: What do you call an Essex girl with half a brain ?
A: Gifted!

Q: How do Essex girl braincells die ?
A: Alone.

Q: Why should Essex girls not be given coffee breaks ?
A: It takes too long to retrain them.

How many software engineers does it take to change a light bulb?

*None. "We'll document it in the manual."
*None. It's a hardware problem.
*1.000000001.
*Two. One always leaves in the middle of the project.
*Four. One to design the change, one to implement it, one to document it, and one to maintain it afterwards.
*Four, plus one senior analyst to manage the project, one technical writer to correct the spelling and grammar of the one who documented it, one light bulb librarian, a sales-force of at least five to drum up enough users who want to turn the light on, 274 users to burn out the new bulb, at which point we go to tender for another light bulb change,...
*Five. Two to write the specification program, one to screw it in, and two to explain why the project was late.
*Only one, but she's not available till the year 2000.
*"The change is 90% complete."
*"It's hard to say. Each time we separate the bulb into its modules to do unit testing, it stops working."
*Of course, as everyone knows, just five years ago all it took was a bunch of kids in a garage in Palo Alto to change a light bulb.

Justice is Done

The English, who since time immemorial, have considered themselves one of the 'top nations' in the world, and especially in world football, have, once again, been seen for what they really are, failures!
The have forgotten the biblical injunction to be humble and their arrogance has brought its own reward. Does it not say, "Arrogance leads to a fall, and pride leads to destruction?" England can see this played out in front of them today. Will they listen? Will they understand? NO! It is not in their nature.

Stereotyping a people is one of the things political correctness does not allow us to participate in these days. However, it always has a basis in fact. With the English a belief in their own importance in all things pervades them. Possibly this is a left over of Empire, a residue of the vile human desire, one we all share, of lording it over others. In the world of football the English pride runs deep. They like to believe England is 'The Home' of football, ignoring the fact that football was widespread long before a group of rich kids at the 'public schools' formulated a system of 'laws' for the game. Quite why that gives them the right to claim ownership is unanswered. William McGregor, the Aston Villa man who created the English football League,had learned his football in Perthshire in the 1850's, and the game, under a wide variety of rules, being played throughout the land. But it is 'their ball' and facts will not get in the way of emotion.

During the last World Cup a lot of media pressure was put on Scotland to support England during the tournament. Possibly politically motivated from Downing Street and the then premier, but certainly a novel idea not used in previous occasions, it was demanded the Scots support England. Now,after a thousand years of imperialist threat, after three hundred years in which the Scots had been treated as second class citizens, after English MPs voting with closed minds on Scots matters then demanding Scots MPs should not vote on English debates, after the name North Britain was forced on the Scots but soon the word 'England' was to take its place, after all this and the contempt still clearly seen on the BBC each day they demand submission from a nation? Dear me, how ignorant are the English from anything outside of their own opinions!

A nation which wrongly considers itself more important than it is, a nation that abuses its neighbour and 'union partner,' a nation that deep inside believes with a passion that they are among the elite of world football finds reality a hard thing to accept. Today the media will of course blame the manager. They will forget how it was they who cried out for a replacement goalkeeper, who also failed, and it is they who consider their opinions above all others. But that is for another day. Today the scapegoat will be found, the promises of change will ring out, the shouting will continue, but the heart will remain stubbornly the same. The John Motson racism will continue, (During the last England v Germany game he took eleven minutes before he mentioned a German player by name!) the opposition will be 'delighted' because they have scored 'at Wembley.' Not that scoring against Spain or Italy, France or Brazil is of importance John is it eh? Ian Wright, how did he get his job, boasts of England in a way he would object in the BNP, Alan Hansen the 'Tomb Tabard,' yearns for his adopted country to win, and Alan Shearer boasts "We play fair," and ignores his many elbows in goalkeepers throats. The radio and TV news,and every other programme, will be filled with English woe, even though the programmes are shown throughout the UK. Northern Ireland's grand show against Spain might get a passing mention, and so will Scotland, Wales will be ignored of course, but the whole of the UK will have to share the woe of England. And they will! After the arrogance of there pundits, after their self interest, after the abuse we suffer we are indeed sharing their woe minute by minute, by laughing our head off!

A new motto for England......

"When pride cometh, then cometh shame: but with the lowly is wisdom. "

Market Day Murder

I made a mistake today. Not for the first time I can tell you and most likely not for the last. The mistake was to forget that today being 'Market day' the town would be full of people. Add to that the second mistake, the idea of wandering amongst the stalls and shops in the middle of the morning when the place was at peak 'women shopper' time! This mistake ranks alongside the man at Decca telling the Beatles that 'Three guitars and a drummer is old hat folks,' or 'Old Moores Almanac' claiming foretelling the future for September 1939 as 'Peace!' While some may say there are differences between market day and these examples I suggest you attempt to squeeze past a fat woman and a stall selling biscuits, then negotiate between two old dears looking at each other and pointing in different directions caring nothing for the hordes attempting to pass. Subtle hints like barging into them with a pushchair (and what sort of creature takes a pushchair into such a small space anyway?) or throwing a small child at them fails to get any recognition. Similar types push themselves in front of you as they leave the 'Special offer' shops, ignorant of normal people (male) attempting to gather a few precious needs. As you enter a shop you note that what you require is at the back and the obstacle course comprises too many stands, full of delicate things that fall far too easily, and yet more large unseeing females who think shoving a coat hanger in your face as you pass is nothing to complain about. The store, which of course has exactly what you want at exactly the wrong size, has to be fought through once again as you head for the door, the shop staff convinced you have some stolen item inside your jacket. The fact that you have your arms pinned by their sides by the crush of thoughtless shoppers is not a thing they would notice.

Having fought against the hordes of Vandals and Huns who comprise the normal Wednesday morning market day to the fruit and veg stall, and discovering the best stall is not there, only the Essex boys with their cheery wit and lying smiles and rotten fruit placed by sleight of hand into the bottom of your brown paper bag, you head back they way you have come. This time the bird in the red jersey, worn such a manner to inflame the desire of the men she fancies and enrage the jealousy of the women she passes on the way, this bint decides to grab you attention by skillful use of the pushchair her greeting faced brat is screaming blue blazes in. She also uses blue words when confronted (in love) about her driving ability. Short and frank is the conversation, as indeed are many others at this time. The postman pushing his trolley loaded with business mail around the town 'accidentally' lets you know he is also passing by muttering 'Some of us have jobs to do you know.' Knowing he spends half his day having free coffees and buns (something I never obtained on any walk when I was a postman) another short conversation takes place.

Why do women stop in the middle of the way and stare? What is it that hinders the ability to move to the side and let folks pass? Just because you are looking at a stall, or a window display, for some magical treat you neither need nor actually can afford, is there any need to hinder the rest of the world. MOVE!!!! But no. Females must stop the traffic just to contemplate something, anything, that is in front of them. Ask them what it was two minutes later and they cannot tell you! I have been taken, by force I can tell you, through a department store, up hill and down dale, until we reached the curtain department, one of my favourites I can tell you, just for her to take some material in one hand, rub it between her fingers and mutter, 'Hmmm.' Then we left. 'What was that about?' says I. 'I just wanted to look,' says she. All this for 'Hmmm?' says I. 'Yes,' says she, as if the hour had been worth it in some way.

However, today I surpassed myself. Coming out of 'Woolworth's' were the Mongol Hordes, pushing and shoving, and attempting to avoid the bookstall and the girl selling overpriced candles ('Ideal gift,' for who?) while not stumbling into a woman searching her handbag in the middle of the remaining space. Behind me a crowd of stampeding cattle were being held up by this female. The narrow space in which we crushed seemed to get smaller as we waited for her to do something and, finally, she did. She stopped looking in her bag and just stood there with a soporific smile on her face. From the other direction I thought Ashur-bani-pal and his Assyrian army were coming towards us,but I may have miscounted, the stalls around us swayed and yet more arrived from 'Woolies' as another pushchair arrived to scream its way into the fray. Just than a small still voice came from behind a hand proffering a leaflet with Santa prominent on it,
'Merry Christmas' said the voice cheerfully. It was at this point that I took out the chainsaw and cut the old bint in twain. I then proceeded to carve my way through the Assyrian army, any runaway cattle and each and every pushchair headed in my direction. As I got to the end of the market I found that I had been followed by several dozen men. 'Thank the Lord for that,' said one, I thought I'd never get out of there again!' The others said the same. 'Never shop on a market day again,' said a big ex army type,'It's far too dangerous if you ask me.'
We looked back at the carnage brought by the chainsaw, and were satisfied.

Monday Morning Lies!

Start the week the way you intend to go on! that is what this government is doing. Today the attention grabbing headline is 'Getting People Off Disability Allowance.'
Goody! But why? Peter Hain appears on TV this morning blethering, in that disreputable manner of his, about the benefits to those receiving such benefits getting back into work. 650,000 vacancies he says, ignoring that most of them are unavailable for the disabled and not in their district anyway, 'Help is available,' true, but not everywhere, and he wax's lyrical about the benefits for those who get back into the workforce.
Jolly good, but all lies!

David Cameron has taken the lead in the publicity stakes so Labour need to get the attention of the 'middle England' voter. How to do this? Attack those on the dole, after all are they not all scroungers? Indeed 60,000 claim disability allowance in Glasgow, vast numbers do so in Liverpool, and many more in the north east of England, non of which are considered 'Daily Mail' territory. Ah the 'Daily Mail,' yes indeed, it is the readers of this paper who matter here. They consider themselves the backbone of the nation, they work for their money, they are concerned to keep it in their grasping paws rather than share it with those in need, and all of them are scroungers who should get a job and 'stop hiding behind their disability anyway!' After all, if they have to work, what is stopping someone who has had an injury, and 'anyway it is not as bad as they make out is it?'

You see the truth is the disabled, or dole scroungers of any type, appeal to the 'middle England' reader, therefore attacking them in this way helps prop up the Labour party and its desperate desire to stay in power. If however Hain decided come on telly claiming tax dodgers were to be dealt with it would lead to a disaster at the polls for the 'Socialist' party. Stop folk cheating on the dole by all means but do not deal with those who evade paying tax! The fact that vast billions is removed from this country to off shore tax havens (yes Mr Lampard we mean you!) and those grossly overpaid rich folks who do this are encouraged by the 'Socialist' leaders because it 'aids the economy' says much for our understanding of 'decency' and the 'fair play' for which this country is 'justly famous!' Those who have are well able to keep what they have, those who are not 'middle class' or part of 'middle England,' and many small business folk are here, fearing the immigrant, terrified they will steal from their shop, not give the taxi driver his tip, and worse, open a business undercutting him. But they feel better when the powers that be stand on those who do nothing for their keep, even if it is not their fault.

A good business idea is to go to Glasgow or Liverpool and sell walking sticks. Thousands use them in and around Glasgow, just in case the camera van is watching them and they lose their dole money. Selling walking sticks at a few pounds a go will make someone's fortune, I wish I could do it but I can't afford the bus fare..............

SICK!

Another 'glorious failure!' Once again Scotland come up against the best Europe has to offer and once again play at their level. Once again the fates decide against us, this time a last minute goal from a nonsensical free kick. Having missed a golden chance to take the lead, and knowing a draw was not good enough for us, we still suffered a needless loss, just to rub the 'glorious failure' in our noses.

Scotland have taken on the World Champions and forced them to play at their best to beat us, we have beaten the World Cup Runners Up, France, home and away. Throughout the tournament we have been regarded as no-hoper's, yet we again fail at the last. Some things never change! When we succeed in qualifying for tournaments we fail to the best by the odd goal or a 'hard luck' story. Never are we humiliated by the best, by the rest yes, the best, no! Once again the side that has given its all, made the nation hold their head high, left us knowing the future is bright, has gone out.
Life is not fair.

To make matters worse, Russia have lost in Israel, a side they should have beaten handsomely.
Why does this matter? Had Russia done their duty England would have gone out also. As it stands England have every chance of qualifying for Euro 2008! By Wednesday night we will know the sad truth. England, once again struggling in an easy group, will have succeeded where valiant Scotland have failed. Once again a feeble side will arrive at the tournament, their media, and indeed their public, claiming they are world beaters, believing in their hearts, in spite of all the evidence against them, that England are one of the worlds elite teams. NEVER! This is a lie!
Once again John Motson and his ilk will ignore the Scots who have fought to overcome the worlds best while England have used others to bring them success. Once again the gloating smarm that sickens decent people will be found shining like American evangelists from our screens. Once again facts will be ignored to enhance the 'greatness' of England and it football.
Sick is not a word to reflect the heartfelt emotions of decent football folk.