Thought For Two Days

(This is the British Railways symbol. The thing with the arrows isn't.)








The more that authority is applied, the more it is rejected.
"People," they wail, "have changed!"
The world of yesterday is gone. No longer are rules made to guide us and keep us out of trouble.
No.
Today, rules are there for one purpose and one purpose only; to be broken!
Of course. The rules are just an instrument of control, the means by which we are corralled and sheparded to the extinction of anything enjoyable in life.

But what a life.
What an enjoyment.
Drunken excess is normal where once alcoholics stayed anonymous in order to confess to their brethren their dreadful crimes and so work their way back to sobriety and respectability.
Amy Winehouse? Yeah, right.

But are we the only thing to change?
What has really changed?

More rules/less rules, so what?
More law, less law, so what?

But what law?

Law has been replaced by rules. Law protects us. Rules govern us. And the biggest law of all was the Law Of Property.

Around seventy years ago, governments abandoned all pretence at law-making when they abandoned all pretence at preserving our property.
When they(flagship project) stole the railways in 1947, they destroyed one of the biggest and most complex single examples of property there was.
More followed.
Coal. Steel. Utilities. Aircraft. Broadcasting. Airlines. Ports. Cars.
All stolen in an orgiastic display of wanton property destruction.
And when Margaret Thatcher came along to sell the remains of the loot off again, the resistance was strangely isolated because the establishment had already made its point, and the remaining failures were a reminder of the lie excusing their thefts.
An embarrassing reminder.
Point made about the mutability of property, they let the rubble go.

With a quiet reminder in the nineties about the railways; mutability had to be in the reminder, so the establishment reversed.
Apparently.

Confused a lot of people, that.
Kept them guessing.

I guess there won't be much happening in this country until another Thatcher comes along who is even better prepared and willing; someone who understands the establishment but doesn't have the distraction of war, cold or shooting.

And of course, to prepare the way, a few good men to tell the truth about the establishment, which is still sucking at nanny's blanket.
Incidentally, the thing with the arrows is called 'Intercity'. They actually tried to make it as a passenger service in oh, about 1968, after they had destroyed most of the freight business and infrastructure.
Even the Victorians didn't try that.

Future Journalist?

More like President.

While I'm At It....

What a pile of crap the Notting Hill carnival is.
I mean what?
Go out.
Drink on the street with a bunch of in-turning 'event' hogs, or get mugged every two feet by unfriendly black guys;
watch a couple of hundred sweaty people prancing around, gyrating pointlessly for hours while wearing absurd clothing that usually does nothing to improve their appearances (which is surely the purpose of decoration), all suffused with a sense of strain, menace and fear and a few, yes, just a few, children actually smiling.

I mean, stuff it Londitz.
I didn't go to the Weymouth Carnival last week, but at least people got to see the Red Arrows flying a full display up and down the beach and over the town, and were able to sit in pavement bars and cafes while watching both the carnival and the air display.

But it wasn't on TV, because it isn't in *Wunderbar Londitz!*
Dump.
Anyway, I'm going to sit down with another beer.
Couldn't do my laundry, so I'll spend the laundry money on a pint.

Talent. Truth.

Read this.
Go on.
Do it.(Thanks to Djomama)
And this.
(Thanks to Chase Me Ladies, I'm in the Cavalry).

!

Nuff said.

Somewhere In England..

Little ship leaves the Old Harbour.

Local kids stunt-riding on the ferry pier.

Morning. Good time to watch the Sun come up and eat breakfast on the promenade.

Local church.

'The bridge'.

The George Inn.

The old fish market(#1 for appetising local produce-gorgeous Bandeleras, and huge Whelks)

The George-local specials everyday except Sunday, when the boats stay in the port.


Guest account.


resting for the struggle ahead in Weymouth!

I Always Knew It.

So, those wankers at the BBC 'analysed' that we don't need the BAe Typhoon did they?
They tried their best for their best friends to the East.
They failed.
But the plan continues.

Tele-what?

Coming soon to Channel 4: yet another collection of 'resting' twenty-thirty actors, now being paid for resting and pretending they are in a sitcom which has a situation and comedy.
You too can buy into the alleged life in this style; 'young' people failing to grow up in homes, cars, shops and workplaces.
'Young' people doing nothing but pretend to do nothing, in a vain attempt to postulate that the misery in the twelve-year-old mental age they portray makes them more mature than the rival Americans who are childish adults rather than ancient children who choke every joke and dissipate the efforts of the so-called writers in a lowest common denominator of flatness which is the only chance they have.
The only chance to tie together the aborted strands of disjointed gibbering which possesses no fluency and consists of one five second span after another.

Bloody rubbish.
If this is the best they can do, cancel everything and spend the money on decent imports.

Something Stinks.

And it isn't my socks.
I tried changing my driving license address online tonight.
I got to the very end, after giving them all my personal details.

The last message I received was that they could not process me and I would have to use the post.

After they got all my details.

Citizen Brown knows who we are.
He Knows Where We Live.

And now he knows where we went.

Bastards.

Love Sudoku?

Get a life!
I mean, messing around doing mental arithmetic with small numbers that signify nothing and doing it for its own sake?
Do me a bloody favour!
Do these people go off and try to get interviewed 'for the fun of it?'

If I fancy doing a bit of arithmetic, I sit at the new 3.4GHz Dual Core the company has issued to me and compare version numbers on software issues.
Then I take the read-only locks off and start recompiling them to see what they do in detail.
And I get paid for it.

Haven't taken a newspaper for two weeks;(haven't bought one for three years, but that was because I worked for Johnstons Press and even got my Weekend FT for free), but when I do one thing I ignore absolutely every time is Sudoku.

Let's face it, it's about as clever as a Harry Potter novel.

There's A Lot Of Them About.

All around the world, where people attempt to live close together, there are life forms which inhabit the nether world of private, imaginary, peculiar little attempts at conflict.
I now have a two-floor apartment with no neighbour above, and solid walls, but as of day 3 I have been awoken at 2 am by, yep, a pencil neck geek bouncing around next door to my bedroom.

The previous tenant was very glad to get me, very glad to charge a reasonable price and, frankly, very glad to get away.

Now I know why.
There had to be a catch and this is it.
Next time I'm in Leeds I'll get some of my automated noise out of storage.
This usually prevents 'Sleepless In Seattle' types from staying up all night, by playing music to them all day long.
I would never have to hear it, neither would my ground-floor neighbours, as it will be in the attic.
And if I can get talking to the predecessors, we can possibly reach a quorum and have a group complaint against the rubbish next door.
And it is still a big improvement over my Leeds 'neighbour'.

Who would have guessed....

that shit for brains would have come from Oxford University?

Welcome....

to this fully operational death-star!
Bwahahahahaha!

One Of Our Aircraft Is Missing....

Currently operating with a reduced facility; this comes to you via temporary dial-up somewhere in East Yorkshire.
The bunker in Leeds is looking forlorn and derelict, with all of the electronic equipment stripped out and no accommodation, it won't be long until it is finally signed off the books and given to some desperado from the locality.
Until then the additional rent will be a small millstone which has to be tolerated for the sake of the storage.

The new base is superb; that's all I can say for now, as pictures are a little too large for this connection.
More will follow, including pictures of the gorgeous seaside town in which I will be living.
Talking of which, the nearest inland city has hotels and pubs in a 17th century setting, one in particular being a brewery pub with superb beer and the best pub meals we have ever eaten.

It is a short drive inland, but nobody has to drive as public transport is excellent.

I'm looking forward to this new life.

Skeleton Crew At The Consulate.

The communications station will stay on air until Saturday; at which time it will be removed to the South.
The first convoy leaves in half an hour.
All non-essential personnel have been evacuated.
For the past two years we have been under concerted attack, but at no time was essential functioning halted.
The situation has been difficult, but strategic victories have ben won, ending the home threat and furthering plans for a campaign in the West.
Further bulletins will follow.

Good News Travels Fast!

Being back in my council flat in Leeds for the last time tonight, I can't help but wonder what is really going on.
Why?
Because the knock on the ceiling tells me that 'someone is going to pay for this'.
Meaning that loot and conquest were promised?
Or just a pathetic empty threat now that my liberation is imminent?

I must be a very dangerous man indeed for the local remnant of Smersh to get all upset.
First their bitch tries to pump me for my new address(and I divert her to another), then their little thug upstairs gets all upset, and then my oldest friend (a socialist) actually tries to argue against getting out of Leeds 'in case I don't like my new job'.

Well here are a few facts: it is a great job, the bitch's carefully planned brainwashing didn't work,it is an American company, and they could care less about little local shenannigans.
I'm going to make real money, in a solid place of my own, well away from the misery of Leeds.
(Although I've got some good friends there-just in case eh?).

Even if they bang on the walls, they will never be able to bang on the ceilings. Trust me.
Oh, and while I still haven't been paid for the contract, I did receive a cheque for £300 from the sale of a small shareholding and another £80 in dividends.
So I'm going to make it to my whopping pay day.

Bwahahahaha!

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside!
From next Monday my broadband will be down for 5 days.
When it is resurrected it will be in Cider Country.
I have a new lair; it has no nutty neighbours, and two pubs at the end of the street.
So if they get the Rose & Crown, I'll drink at the Elephant & Castle - if they'll have me!

March my brave lads!

Christmas in San Francisco!

Progress Has Been Made.

Reporting from somewhere in England, we have scouted out the sites;two are useless due to foul locales, and two show potential.
One is next to a stately home, the other is next to a micro-brewery.
The beer is excellent.
The other has a courtyard.
Both the good ones are cheap.
Moving soon.

Spoke Too Soon. Until Tomorrow.

A Boat Called Dignity.

Tomorrow is the last day I will be working in haulage.
I had hesitated to mention this due to the 'retiring cop syndrome'.
You know.
The bit where the 'old' cop shows his family photos to the young turk, and then maybe a picture of a boat or a hot rod, just before he gets one in the chest and expires in a pool of blood and regrets.

Well now. If I pile my Mercedes Vito van into a 43 Tonne truck and die tomorrow, you know why.
But if I don't, I'm going to be out of circulation for a while; first I have to find a place to live in Cider Country(South West England), then I have to get a phone line activated, then I have to get my broadband account transferred.
That's after I do 1500 miles of round trips with my gear in-yep- another white van.

So this could well be the last posting for a couple of weeks.

But when I'm back, it will be great.

As Sid Vicious said, "Please don't be waiting for me."
More appropriately, "see you on the other side!"

Henry? There's Somebody At The Door...

Thanks to Uncle Djo(mama)

Boeing 787

If you want to know anything about the Boeing 787 Dreamliner, I recommend Wikipedia rather than the lame official Boeing site.
One thing that really did impress me about the 787 was the fact that it is 80% by volume composite(CFRP).
Apparently this permits the use of higher humidity and pressure in the passenger compartment as CFRP doesn't corrode; this means a vastly improved passenger experience over long distances, with less fatigue and physiological trauma.
Which means the Air Transport Engineering equivalent of a 'killer app'.
Somebody tell Airbus engineering isn't an academic game of one upmanship.
It's a business.

On the other hand, the London Times slide show (somewhere on this page) included the comment that the fuselage is a one-piece.
I sincerely hope not, or a baggage handling accident would scrap the entire plane.

Much as I enjoy flying in (most) Airbuses(except A310), I was also interested in the potential problems of the A380.
You see, it is certified for operation on the standard 45 metre wide runway, but the recommendation is that it uses a 60 metre.
Which many people think will lead to sufficiently altered perceptions of the 'flare-point' when landing other planes, that pilots will keep pulling out too early and stalling onto the runway from a height of several metres.
Obviously this is dangerous.

It will be interesting to see how things work out.

Something Screwy Here.

This is a picture from the UK Ministry Of Defence of Corporal Steve Edwards.
He was killed today in Iraq.
I won't second-guess Steve Edwards or his family.
But he looks like a bloody good bloke.
He looks like my brother when he's having a really good day.

Now he is dead.
I've got nothing against the army.

But I think that being killed by some skulking towel-head to protect blood-enemies from each other is a really fucked-up excuse for an excuse for being murdered.

It was murder. There is no war.

You Couldn't Make This Up.

Good to know which side of the fence the local press is on.

You Couldn't Make This Up.