Lad's Mag, Dad's Mags

Has the world gone stark staring bonkers? Who buys this crap?

Reporter reports story

This story was on the BBC’s Today program this morning. Their reporter, Angus Stickler, was able to buy the ingredients required to make sarin nerve gas using a credit card and a fake BBC letterhead. He was also able to download the recipe from the internet with the aid of a keyboard, mouse and chemistry student. Very interesting in an “our reporter managed to smuggle a Swiss army knife onto a British Airways jet” kind of a way, but is it really news? The news bulletins were all over this story like a cheap tattoo, if a BBC reporter can do this then so could terrorists. Big deal, terrorists already did it in Japan, they killed twenty odd people. Terrorists are bad people but they are usually smart people, they will figure out how to do it even if it is illegal, a bit like owning a machine gun.

There were no great revelations in the story, three of the ingredients of sarin are apparently used in all sorts of innocent products, another is toxic but is controlled. Genuine companies are allowed to buy it, individuals are not. The reporter used the story that he was doing research for the BBC as his reason for wanting to buy the stuff. The suppliers are bone fide companies, they didn’t break any laws but they were a little naïve in trusting the BBC.

It’s a bit like reporting the fact that “our reporter” made a bomb out of petrol, fertilizer, sugar and a length of pipe. For his next scoop I would suggest that Mr Stickler take some “readily available” flying lessons and buy a “readily available” map of New York from W H Smiths.

Is it the role of the BBC and other news agencies to report the news or to manufacture it?

Today I are mostly being ...

Marge Simpson
Ron Weasly
Obe Wan Kenobi

A sixty second essay

Via WryWriter comes the One Word Challenge. This site gives you a word and sixty seconds to write what you will about it. Here’s my attempt at today’s word.

Spun
He flipped the coin, it spun through the air, catching the sunlight as it described an arc before landing in the short damp grass. Heads. He picked up his lucky coin, followed the left fork in the path and let fate take him through the woods to wherever it would.

Fish

Your fingers sublimate into volcanic gases with the slightest cooling touch from the antennae of a passing lyre.

La pluie de vos insultes n'atteint pas le parapluie de mon indifference.

from the Surrealist Compliment Generator via This Is The Goo That I’ve Got

Groete meisies bloieses

The Sith Efrikens still haven’t turned up for work. The translation is probably not the most accurate but they’ll get the point.

Blogsville Arizona

Hey, I’ve got a reader in Arizona in the good old Yew Ess of Ay. I’m such an intercontinental old blogger. Go say hello to Clifton GreywithanA over at TFGBlog where you can learn a little about American Football (like rugby except they wear lots of pads and stop playing a lot) and the dog racing scene in Phoenix.

My cup runneth over

They have solved the problem of the coffee maching only dispensing half cups of brown stuff that looks something like coffee. Smaller cups! What an inspired piece of lateral thinking.

Sucking up

It’s the boss lady’s birthday today. Happy birthday Kjirste, can I have a pay rise now please or do we give you the bumps and pull your hair?

Brain FM

Currently playing Bob Hope’s theme tune “Thanks for the memory” courtesy of a story on the radio this morning about his 100th birthday. Happy birthday Bob.

Bleurgh!

Went out for 6,425 high speed beers in Southampton last night with the Sith Efrikans from work and I am feeling rather seedy this morning ja!

Phunny phone call

I just rang home to say hello to Cathy and Sam. They’re out in the back garden, Sam has the hosepipe, Cathy seemed a little distracted.

Humorous my elbow

This morning at 4:46am precisely, yours truly rolled over in bed and stuffed his funny bone into the corner of his bedside cabinet. Funny bone? Funny bone? Funny bone? How about verypainfulwhenslanmmedintofurniture bone. It wasn’t funny, it hurt and it woke me up. I suppose that you lot will have a laugh at my expense though.

Small dogs

Have you ever noticed that small dogs make the most noise? Well, it is the same with machines. There I was on the train from Southampton to Liverpool on Friday evening; it was fully booked so I was crammed next to the window besides fat sweaty gadget bloke for five hours. He had a mobile phone, MP3 player, CD player, PDA and St Vitus' Dance. He had "What Computer" magazine and read every single page, nerd. Also in the carriage were a few dozen extremely young Jolly Jack and Jacky Tars from HMS Kindergarten heading to various points up north for weekend of R&R, bless ‘em. They all had mobile phones, MP3 players, CD Players and so on.

I was trying to read a rather heavy duty but fascinating book, but from all around for the full five hours it took to Stafford I was assaulted by the invasive racket of small machines. Mobile phones with their annoying ring tones, music leaking out of the earphones of non-personal stereos including Bat out of Hell from fat sweaty gadget bloke.

Tish tish tish tish tish
Beep beep beep beep beep
Diddle de dooo dooo didddle dee doo dooo
“Hello, yes, wot, you’re breaking up, wot, hello, hello, hello.”
Diddle de dooo dooo didddle dee doo dooo
Beep beep beep
“Hello, yes, wot, dunno, Coventry, wot, hello, hello.”
Like a bat outta hell.
Beep beep beep beep
Diddle diddle diddle dee dee dee dee dee dee
Tish tish tish.

That’s it; I’m going to buy some bagpipes and a tune a day book, That’ll learn the feckers!

I wanna be like you

Oh oooby doo, I wanna be like you ooh oooh
I wanna walk like you, talk like you, ooooooh
You see it’s true ooooh oooh
An ape like meeeeeeee
Etc.
Etc.

WILL SOMEONE GET THIS SONG OUT OF MY HEAD PLEASE