The Road to Hell...

In true TV drama style, let's start with a catch-up of the previous episodes.  Thus far, we have seen our heroes, Ian and I, tackle crime on our way through the Fife Coastal Path, occasionally aided and abetted by our crime fighting sidekick, Lesley-Ann (Ian's other half).  By crime, I do of course mean, blubber.  Our last episode ended on a knife-edge as we made it back to Dalgety Bay, which, by no coincidence at all, was our starting point for the first leg of the next section of the walk.

So, what's the tale of the tape for this round then.  Well, stats fans, it is:

Distance: 7.93 miles (a new record!)
Time: 2hr 35min 13sec
Blisters: None, although it was a close run thing. I've said it before, but Compeed is a lifesaver
Parts of me in pain: Lower back (really sore), left ankle (****ing sore)
Average Speed: 3mph
Walking Style the Following Day: Drunken village idiot

I was actually quite disappointed with the final speed, for large chunks of the walk we were well over 3.1mph, but, sadly, the last mile was, for me anyway, a killer. I hit the walking equivalent of the wall. If runners hit the wall, I guess walkers hit the plasterboard partition? Not quite as strong as a wall, but still notable! However, I was determined that I wasn't going to dip under the 3pmh mark, so from somewhere found a second, third and then fourth wind. Today, however, I am struggling to find a first wind!

I covered the history of Dalgety Bay in my last blog, so will refrain from going into much more detail about the village itself.  Walking on our way back out of the Bay, we passed some monumentally expensive houses, some incredibly expensive cars, and the famous 'Glowing Beach of Doom'. It is a bit disconcerting to be walking literally inches from a beach which is fenced off with signs saying, amongst much else, "Radioactive Contamination".  It's strange to think that at one time, radioactivity was believed to be good for you, with some everyday items being dosed up with good old atomic energy, radium (the same element which has condemned the beach here) in toothpaste being the most obvious one to spring to mind.

St Bridget's Kirk. St Bridget not pictured.

It was on the way out of Dalgety Bay that we wandered past something I've been hunting for, quite literally, years - an abandoned church.  Those of you who know me will know that my principle hobby, and occasional source of alternate revenue, is photography. I've had various ideas for vaguely gothic dystopian photoshoots, set in the ruins of a church, but had not found a suitable location. Well, that all changed last night with the discovery of St Bridget's Kirk.  I actually feel a bit embarrassed at not knowing there was such a landmark on my doorstep, so to speak, given that the church has been there, in one form or another, since it was founded in 1178 by no less an authority than Pope Alexander III. The church eventually came under the authority of Incholm Abbey, which itself, perched as it is on the island of Inchcolm, dates back to some time between 1107 and 1124. It's actually quite humbling to realise that you are wandering around ruins of a structure which has, in part at least, been there for almost a millennium. It makes me feel almost bad that I want to use it as a backdrop for a scantily clad model in various poses! The key word there being almost!

So, what of St Bridget herself. Who was she? Well, I must admit my ignorance of Saints is of a depressingly large magnitude, so, being the geek that I am, I'm rather pleased to have an excuse to do some research!  St Bridget, or Bridget of Ireland (not to be confused with the later Bridget of Sweden!) is, it transpires, one of the patron saints of Ireland, along with the much more famous Patrick, and less famous Columba. She is the patron saint of... well, tons of things, such as babies, blacksmiths, children whose parents are not married (honestly!), dairy workers, fugitives, mariners, milkmaids, nuns, poets, poultry farmers, sailors and watermen!  She was considered to be one of the bridging (probably no pun intended!) figures between early Christianity and paganism in Ireland. It's no accident that her feast day is February 1st, which is one of the famous quarter days in paganism.  Unsurprisingly, there is little of her life which can now be verified, given her lifespan was between the late 5th and early 6th centuries. She was, according to the recounts which still exist, a healer, miracle worker and daughter of two slaves, who was found to be holy from the start.  As she reached adulthood, she devoted herself to religious life and was instrumental in creating nunneries, monasteries, and, somewhat surprisingly, a school of art. Not bad at all, certainly a noble figure to have a small local church named in her honour!

Once we got out of Dalgety Bay, the next stop was the little coastal village of Aberdour, which contained the first major climb of the trek (when I say 'major', I mean major for me - for normal people, probably not so much!). I've lost count of the number of times I've driven through Aberdour, I've visited the famously old church (of which more shortly), I've even played golf on the course there, but I've never really taken the time to learn anything about it, which is a shame, because it's a really nice little place. It's origins are somewhat shady, coming as they do, from the Dark Ages. The name itself is of Pictish origin, meaning "where the waters meet". It has a picturesque harbour, and what is widely regarded as one of the finest beaches in Fife, if not Scotland.  It's also famous for its old church, as I mentioned, and Aberdour Castle.

Aberdour Harbour

The castle dates from around 1200, making it one of the oldest still standing castles in Scotland, currently under the stewardship of Historic Scotland, it has all the classic castley features - towers, stately home parts, landscaped gardens and a view of the sea.  Well worth a visit if you are ever in the area, as is the 12th century St Fillan's Church, which not only is still standing, but is still in use as a working church, one of the oldest in the country still being used for the purpose it was built for. It's not the biggest church in the world, but there is an aura about the place which just entrances you.  Honestly, if you are in the area, pay it a visit, there aren't too many places you can wander into and let your imagination wander, trying to visualise 900 years worth of congregations.  It's pretty awesome.

Part of the walk through Aberdour involved the biggest climb of the day, up steps which were cut into the hillside to take us from the harbour, over the land to the beach.  I'm not going to lie, by the time I got to the top, I was panting like a grandad at a strip club.  I was, however, forced to put a brave face on it, at least for a while, as no sooner had I crested the hill, than two rather fetching young ladies came the other way, and, in the manner of men everywhere, I forced myself to suck in my gut (as much as is possible with the leviathan retundity (probably not a real word) of my belly!) throw back the shoulders and, to paraphrase those of a 'rap' persuasion, get my swagger on. Ian commented at the time that I appeared to have grown 5 inches in stature, leading me to worry that the zip of my trousers was down, but apparently he did just mean my posture.

I do tend to walk with a bit of a hunch, something I am trying very hard to train out of myself, to the point that by the end of the walk, my neck, being unused to having to support my head for such extended periods, was killing me.  Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the point of view), the stunningly good weather had lead to a veritable bevvy of ladies deciding to take the air of the evening.  It was a sign of how tired I was by the time we eventually hit Burntisland that I was more or less unable to continue adopting my manly pose as they passed.

The scenic bit of Buntisland

So, Burntisland then, what can be said about that. Locally, Burntisland is famous for two things - the annual shows (a travelling carnival, for my American friends) and it's associated Highland Games.  Previously, the 3rd thing the town was known for, was it's bauxite processing plant, which stained pretty much everything within a mile of it a strange orange colour. There was also a proud history of shipbuilding in the town from the early 20th century, right up until the late 60s.  I actually used to work at the docks where the shipbuilders used to be, during my spell in the oil industry, by that time, the shipyard had been converted to a fabrication yard for sections of oil rigs.

By the time I made it back to the car park, I was so relieved the torture was over, I broke into an uncharacteristic run! The walk itself nearly didn't happen, due to the fact I am, from time to time, a fool. Packing the car in the morning before I headed to work, I was quite proud of myself that I had remembered my socks. This pride quickly evaporated when I realised that I had forgotten to pack a change of trousers. Lesley-Ann was of the opinion that, in the manner of gym at school, if I had forgotten my kit, I was to do it in my pants. That was never going to be plan B, I wasn't even wearing boxers, but I had decided on a pair of briefs (I'm not a fan of briefs, but having accidentally bought them, I, in the manner of true Scots, determined that I was going to get my money's worth out of them). So, before we even started, a quick detour to Tesco was needed, for the procurement of suitable walking pantaloons.  So, all's well that ends well!

The walk was also notable for the sheer volume of air traffic we noticed.  There is a flightpath which overflies the Kingdom, but it's not one which is normally used much, however, last night there was a veritable flock of planes both lining up for landing, and on their take off climb. The geek part of me couldn't but help and identify the aircraft circling overhead, mostly Boeing 757s and Airbus A320s, with the occasional Embraer RJ-145.  If nothing else, it helped confirm to Ian and Lesley-Ann that I have been single for far too long!

So, dear readers, there ends the latest enthralling installment of my walk related Blog.  Join me again next week when we depart from Burntisland and wind up... well, somewhere.

The Long Walk to Freedom... (from being a fat bas...)

To quote the great Winston Churchill, "this is not the end. This is not even the beginning of the end. It is, perhaps, the end of the beginning". That's kind of how I feel with the completion of tonight's walk, which took us from picturesque North Queensferry, through the industrial drudgery of Inverkeithing, before we ended our trip back at Ian's house in Dalgety Bay.

So, stats fans, what does the tale of the tape tell us tonight.  Well:

Distance: 5.71 miles
Time: 1hr 49min 15sec
Blisters: None! Thanks mainly to Ian providing emergency sockage, and the liberal application of Compeed* plasters to my feet.
Average Speed: 3.1mph

The eagle eyes amongst you will have noted that average speed is a new stat I've thrown in. Yep, it is, because tonight was the first time my average finished above 3mph, so it is, for me anyway, a bit of a breakthrough. Those amongst you who are more experienced in excursions of a perambulatory nature may scoff at my mere 3mph, but for me it's an achievement. The first of our walks was a fairly similar distance, but of much longer duration. It was absolute hell. So was tonight, but for a different reason. I'm pushing myself a bit harder, I only had to stop 2 or 3 times tonight, so if only my back didn't scream in agony for the first 4 miles or so, I'd be set!

So, tonight's starting point was our ending point last week, the historic and pretty village of North Queensferry, in the shadow of the two bridges. The Queen in question, was Queen (and later, Saint) Margaret of Scotland, wife of Malcolm III. Cars having not been invented in the 11th century (and there not being a bridge anyway!) St Margaret took to using a ferry for carriage from the capital (in those days, Dunfermline) to Edinburgh, which became known as the Queen's Ferry.

St Margaret, born in Hungary of all places, was the sister of a little known English king, Edgar Aetheling, whose family fled to Scotland following the Norman Conquest of 1066, which ended an away win for the Normans. She was, by all accounts, a truly pious person, befitting not only her status as Queen, but as the mother of three more Scottish Kings, known for her acts of charity, she ensured, for example, that any orphans or poor of the land who were around were fed before she would eat, and she would personally wash the feet of the poor. She was regarded as the epitome of a fair and just monarch, and was widely revered.  She died on November 16th, 1093, two days after being told of the death of her husband, Malcom III and her eldest son Edward in battle. In 1250 she was canonised by Pope Innocent IV in recognition of her piety, charity and all round awesomeness.  Following her canonisation, her remains were moved to Dunfermline Abbey, where I believe they remain today.

Inverkeithing Harbour

Inverkeithing may not have the history or charm of North Queensferry, but there are some interesting facts to be had about the place.  For example, the harbour you can see pictured off to the right, was the final destination for a number of famous ships, who sailed up the Forth to Inverkeithing to die. HMS Dreadnought, the iconic battleship, whose construction gave rise to an entirely new class of big-gun warships, and sparked probably the biggest naval arms race in history, was broken up at Inverkeithing, as was RMS Mauritania, sister ship of the Lusitania, whose sinking by a German U-Boat in WWI was one of the catalysts which precipitated the entry of the USA into the war.  Whilst we are talking about ships which had RMS as a prefix (which stands for, if you are interested, Royal Mail Ship - the ship could only carry that prefix if it was under contract by the Royal Mail for long distance maritime transport of mail), RMS Olympic also saw her demise in the town.  You may not have heard of RMS Olympic, but I can pretty much guarantee you will have heard of her sister ship, RMS Titanic. I wonder what happened to that one...

Dalgety Bay - one of the
many posh bits!

After passing through Inverkeithing, we re-joined the coast on our way to our destination for this leg of the trip, Dalgety Bay.  Dalgety Bay started life as plain old Dalgety, until the local aristocracy, the Earls of Moray decided they didn't fancy having a village full of peasants on their estate, and ordered it removed.  Then, eventually, the war came, and one of the Earls donated a tract of land for the construction of an airfield.  Eventually, after various wars, it was decided that the Donibristle airfield (named after Donibristle House, the seat of the Earls of Moray) wasn't needed any more, so the land around it was slowly transformed, seeding the start of modern Dalgety Bay.  If you know where to look, you can still see a lot of buildings which were part of the last airfield complex.  Indeed, the first job I had after school, for Marconi Command and Control Systems, was on land which once formed part of the airfield, and some of the outbuildings Marconi used for storage were actual airfield buildings.  It was said that the Donibristle factory where I worked, was haunted by the ghost of an airman, killed as his damaged plane came in to land, crashing just before touchdown.  Dalgety Bay's military past has left another, less welcome legacy - the first place in the United Kingdom to be designated as radioactively contaminated. Apparently, back in 'the day' some bright spark through it would be a good idea to bury a shedload (technical term) of dials, which contained radium.  I await the reports of two headed dogs, and glow in the dark cats.

In all, it was a challenging, but enjoyable sojourn. It also highlighted that Scotland is possibly the only place on the globe where you can find yourself needing sunscreen, a raincoat and some winter apparel more or less at the same time. As we turned toward the coast from North Queensferry, in bright sunshine, all was good with the world.  Literally no more than 5 minutes later, we had hail.  Then a bit of rain, and a cold wind, before finishing in glorious sunshine once again.

Anyway, so ends the first sector of our traverse of the Fife Coastal Path. Next up is central Fife, which gives us some pretty parts to look forward to - Aberdour and Burntisland, for example, before we eventually hit Kirkcaldy.  This, to paraphrase someone, I forget who, is where shizzle gets real...

*other blister plaster things are available. Apparently!

King of the Hills...

Wow. Two posts in two days, my, aren't you lot lucky!!

Fife's answer to
Dempsey and Makepeace

As anyone who read my blog from a couple of days ago, or saw my Facebook post, will know, Stage 3.5 of the grand tour of Fife took place last night. Ian and I, joined for this leg by his better half, commenced our walk from the finishing point of the previous jaunt, Limekilns, and wound our way through Rosyth, ending up in North Queensferry.  The tale of the tape for this leg is....

Distance: 5.25 miles

Time: 1hr 41min 3sec

Number of Blisters: 1 (right foot, I must not have got my Compeed plaster in just the right place!)

Physical Condition at the End: Wrecked!

Limkilns Harbour

Despite a nice starting point, this was easily the least scenic section of our walk thus far, taking in, as it did, a large part of Rosyth. It was also the part of the coastal path which seemed to be lacking in coast. From the point we turned away from Limekilns, right until we were through Rosyth, the coast seemed like a distant memory. 

HMS Invincible - with
Ski Jump

Rosyth itself is, and I'm sorry if any Rosythians are reading this, a bit of a dump.  It's very industrial, dominated as it is by Rosyth Dockyard, currently home for the under construction HMS Queen Elizabeth, the first of the Queen Elizabeth class aircraft carrier, which, upon completion, will be the largest ships ever constructed for the Royal Navy. 

These vessels have been in the news recently due to governmental flip-flopping (what a surprise huh!) on the aircraft which will be used on them.  British aircraft carriers have often been associated with STOVL (Short Take Off, Vertical Landing) aircraft, such as the legendary Harrier jump jet (one of my 3 favourite military planes of all time, along with the Spitfire (of course) and the Avro Vulcan), part of having an effective STOVL capability involves having a 'ski jump', a perky little upturn at the end of the runway deck (as seeon on HMS Invincible here). Originally, the government decided to keep with this approach, and buy Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II, variant B fighters, which are STOVL and can operate from a ski jump. Along comes a new government and says, "well, actually, no, we are in charge now and we are going to go with F-35 C aircraft, which need CATOBAR (Catapult Assisted Take Off Barrier Arrested Recovery) capabilities, so we are going to have to piss millions of pounds against the wall, redesigning one of the most fundamental aspects of the ship.  Fast forward a year or so, factor in a delay to the development of F-35 C, and the government has now said "ummmm, yeah, don' t really know how to put this, but we may have just made a bit of an arse of ourselves, and we are going to go with what the previous government ordered in the first place. Yeah, and it's going to cosr about an extra £100 Million. Sorry about that". Arseholes.

But anyway, I digress from the walking. I'm guessing that anyone actually reading this must have loved Lord of the Rings, and all the walking which took place there. As I said, we actually spent very little time on the coast, which was disappointing.  This was my least favourite part of the walk so far, and one of the most punishing, although the two aspects aren't actually related. Ian's other half Lesley-Ann is a trained PT Instructor, and take it from me, she doesn't mind cracking the whip. If I'm being honest though, it's what I need. Left to my own devices I'd probably amble along, and take an extra half hour or more to complete the journey. No chance of that happening with LA on the case, and I have to say, I am extremely grateful for that. Both she and Ian are giving me a lot of support, encouragement and the kick up the jacksey when needed. That I am now the lightest (well, least leviathan) I've been for the best part of a decade is a testament to the help they have given me, so I would like to take a small moment to say publicly that I very much appreciate their support, and guidance. 

Big-gut and the Hendersons

It was, to mix a metaphor, a walk of 3 halves. The start, Limekilns was, as I've mentioned, really nice, the middle, Rosyth, was very much the opposite, and the end, which came atop a hill I thought was never going to end, was also, really nice. I am going to break the habits of a lifetime and voluntarily display an image featuring my awful countenance.  North Queensferry, our ending point, is another lovely part of Fife, there are some really nice houses with spectacular views of the bridges and the Forth. You'd need to win the lottery to afford one though!

Whilst this walk was something of a torture, at one point I'd have happily confessed to anything, the abduction of Shergar, that I was Lord Lucan, that it was me on the grassy knoll, the sense of relief, mixed with achievement at it's end makes it all worthwhile. It's that, the support from my great friends, and the fact that I am actually seeing results on the scales which is keeping me at it, to the point where I tortured myself playing squash this morning and afterwards, planned the next phase of the walk.  I already have plans in my head for the next grand tour after the Tour de Fife is over. 

Stay tuned, and one day I might just tell you what those plans are!

Guess Who's Back...

Hello, friends.  It's been a while, I bet you thought this ole blog of mine was dead and gone.  It almost was, but I've decided I'm going to keep on running, as someone once said in a song. I think it was the Spencer Davis Group, but I'm not 100% sure.

I know it's been a long time since I wrote anything here. No idea why, I guess I partly didn't have much to say, partly I always seemed to be doing something else, and partly... yeah, partly no idea. But, if nothing else, it gives me a backlog of ideas to work through!

Kincardine Bridge

So, what's been happening this year. Actually not much, other than I've started on a new fitness programme and diet. Again. Only this time, I'm determined to make it stick. Aided by my best friend Ian and his other half, I'm going to be spending time walking along the Fife Coastal Path.  Now, given that I'm the size of a small Eastern European country, this isn't going to be easy. A fact proved to me on the first leg of the walk, which was...

Stage 1

Stage 1 took us from the Clackmannanshire side of the Kincardine Bridge, to the fairly quaint little village of Culross (pronounced Koo-riss).  I know some of you are fond of details, well, never let it be said that I wasn't one to give you all the stats and details you may have wanted! So, leg one was:

Distance: a shade over 5 miles.
Time: about  1hr 45min.
Blisters: 2 massive ones.
Degree of Pain: On a par with stepping on a lego brick. Constantly. For almost 2 hours.
Ability to walk normally the next day: Impaired

A street in Culross

Culross itself is a picturesque little place, although I couldn't be persuaded to live there. It is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and the vast majority of the houses there are listed buildings.  Many years ago, I worked with someone who had a house in Culross, and found myself subject to her daily litany of gripes about Historic Scotland (or whatever body was covering listed buildings at the time), who had to be consulted  for pretty much everything, from wanting to upgrade the windows, making any structural changes inside, down to prescribing the colour the walls outside had to be painted, and many many more. Like most little villages around Fife, there's not really much there, a shop, a pub and a castle. Actually, when you think about it, it's pretty cool that having a castle is more or less the norm in Scotland. We do like a good castle here and there, Fife having a fair few, in varying stages of decay. Some, like St Andrews Castle, Rosyth Castle,
Ballanbriech Castle and the like, are ruins, whilst others, like Pitrievie Castle (now converted into apartments), Falkland Palace, Fernie Castle (now a hotel) are intact. Fife has (or has had) 36 castles within it's borders, alongside a few palaces here and there, like the famous, but now sadly ruined, Dunfermline Palace, birthplace and home of various Scottish Kings.  Actually, as we traverse our way through the Kingdom, I should see how many castles, palaces and old churches we pass, and take some pictures.

So ended the first leg of the coastal marathon. I'd like to say I enjoyed it, but I really didn't. Had I not developed blisters from Hell within the first mile and a half, I dare say I would have been happier, but I learned a very valuable lesson from stage 1.  Of course, as I'm dumber than a box of frogs, I failed to heed said lesson, so in stage 1.5 (which apparently, according to Ian, doesn't count toward the grand walk as it was a) done out of sequence, and b) was done with his better half), which was about 6 or so miles between Kirkcaldy and Aberdour (and will be reported in more depth later on), the parts of my feet which weren't blistered from stage 1 made up for it. Still, I did actually take on board the feedback my poor tootsies gave me, and invested in Compeed plasters, and walking socks. Suitably armed, I was ready for...

Stage 2

Starting where we left off on stage 1, we perambulated our way from Culross to another vaguely picturesque part of the land, namely Limekilns. Don't let the name put you off, it's actually quite nice there. For this leg of the walk, I'd actually installed an app on my phone which used a combination of GPS and mast triangulation to plot our progress, and give us actual data, rather than guesswork! So, the facts and figures from stage 2 are:

Distance: 7.75 miles

Limekilns

Time: 2 hours 38min 10sec
Blisters: None! Yippee!!
Pain: Whilst walking, not too bad, more just tiredness, but after we stopped at the end, when I tried to get moving again, yeah, that wasn't fun!
Ability to walk without looking like a penguin with a rod stuck up his arse the next day: None at all. 

This leg started off quite well, we crossed the train tracks at Culross to join the path, and walked our way along the coastal path, past Valleyfield (one of the original one-horse towns - and even then they stole the horse from somewhere else), pat Torryburn (where Ian used to live), and then making a little jaunt a bit further inland up to Crombie, following the A985 until we cut back down to Charlestown (surprisingly, there were no dancers. I was disappointed), and then on down the Promenade, to our finishing point, which was, by some strange co-incidence, the Ship Inn public house. Who would have thought it! The irony of it is, when we got there, we each had a coffee. Not a drop of the demon alcohol touched our parched lips!

As I mentioned, the start of this walk was much better.  It took a mile or two for my perennial backache to abate (it's one of the side effects of being the size of a fully grown hippo, sadly), once that happaned, the part of the walk between Torryburn and the start of Ordinance Road, which is where we turned inland (and uphill!) was really quite enjoyable. Then, I hit the walking equivalent of the wall. Or in my case, the hill would be a better analogy. I don't know if it was psychosomatic, but when we turned away from the coast, the walk seemed to get harder, and not just because of the incline, when we reached the top of the hill at Crombie, even the downhill part wasn't fun.  By the time we hit Charlestown, I was really not enjoying myself, the last mile and a half or so really wasn't fun, even Ian admitted that he wasn't really having much of a good time by then. However, we made it to the end, rewarded ourselves with a coffee, and then I went home to collapse into a broken heap.

Charlestown and Limekilns themselves are nice enough, although Limekilns is significantly older than it's next door neighbor.

Charlestown

The 'Charles' in Charlestown was Charles Bruce, 5th Earl of Elgin who not only named the village after himself when he founded it, but decreed that the village be mapped out in the shape of the letter 'E', for Elgin. It's most recent (relatively speaking) claim to fame comes from the end of WWI, when the small shipyard which existed in the village at the time was used to break some of the vessels of the German Imperial Fleet, which were brought down from Scapa Flow in the Orkneys. Ironically, Charlestown, and not Limekilns, is the home of the Scottish Lime Centre Trust (which we walked past on our way).

Our finishing point of Limekilns can trace it's provenance back to the 14th century.  The oldest datable building in the town is the King's Cellar, which was built in 1362. Currently, it's a Masonic Lodge, of all things!  Back in the days of yore, Limekilns was a busy little fishing and soapmaking village, these days, however, it's a sleepy little residential area, popular due to it's closeness to Dunfermline and the Forth Road Bridge.

So, dear readers, it's time to leave you on a cliffhanger - tonight sees the 3rd leg of our walktacular extravaganza - Limekilns to North Queensferry. Will our heroes make it unscathed, or with they be find themselves transported to a mirror universe.

Stay tuned to find out!

The View From Afar...

2012 is a General Election year for my friends in the US, and the process has kicked off following the Iowa Caucus as the Republicans try and find someone to take on President Obama.  I thought I would take a look at the Republican crackpo... erm... candidates.


Mitt Romney
Plus points: Did well in turning round a failing 2002 Olympic Games in Salt Lake, despite being called 'Mitt'. A Successful businessman, despite being called 'Mitt'.  Is somehow managing to turn a history of political and idealogical 'flip-flopping' into a virtue. Despite being called 'Mitt'.


Minus points: He's called Mitt, for **** sake! And that's not even his first name!! How bad must he think his given name is (which, for those who don't know, is Willard - thus actually making it a choice of the lesser of two, very equal, evils!). Can you imagine it? Kim Jong-un is sitting on his throne of skulls as his flunky comes to tell him who the new American President is. "His name is Romney, dear leader, Mitt Romney".


"Are you straight up shitting me? The new president is named after a baseball glove? Whose the vice president, Jockstrap Murphy?"


Rick Santorum
Plus points: Has a surname which sounds like a Metallica song.


Minus points: He's a ****ing whackjob! He doesn't believe in the right to privacy, has described contraception as "a license to do things in a sexual realm that is counter to how things are supposed to be." In 2008 he said that Sarah Palin was a step in the right direction! Like I said, grade A nutter! oh, and a 'santorum' is apparently a mix of lube and poo, as a result of paying your lover a visit around the tradesman's entrance. I'm not making this up, Google 'santorum'. Go. Do it. 


Ron Paul
Plus points: Sounds like he should be a porn star. Has experience of a presidential campaign, although that was in the last century! Is against torture. It's a bit sad that it has to be explressely noted that one of the candidates is against that. 


Minus points: Is old. I mean WAY old. When he was a kid the Dead Sea was only sick.  Not a fan of black people, which could be a problem if you are president. For example, the Ron Paul Newsletters contained such gems as an assertion that 95% of black males in Washington were "semi-criminal or criminal", and that "boy, it sure burns me to have a national holiday for Martin Luther King. I voted against this outrage time and again as a Congressman".  Oh, and he's not a fan of the gay community either, thinking that "homosexuals, not speaking for the rest of society, were far better off when social pressure forced them to hide their activities". I'm guessing he doesn't have any Erasure records then.


Newt Gingrich
Plus points: Wait a second. Newt? Bwaaaahahahahaha. I though Mitt was bad! Newton actually isn't that bad a name, but this guy chooses to call himself Newt? And he wants to convince people that he has the sound judgement to run the country?? Sorry, I got carried away there. So, plus points. Ummm... married 3 times, so I'm guessing he likes wedding cake? Because he obviously has nothing but respect for the sanctity of marriage...


Minus points: I don't want to harp on, but he CHOOSES to be called Newt! His judgement in anything else ever, under the sun, in the history of the planet, is invalid!


Rick Perry
Plus points: Will give 'being Rickrolled' a whole new meaning. Isn't George Bush. Kind of says it all when not being W actually makes it into a list of positives for someone. Not a fan of Federal government. Unless it's something he agrees with. So, he's a flip-flopper, which makes it a negative. So, yep, not being GWB is about as good as it gets!


Minus points: Thinks being gay is like being alcoholic. It's an interesting viewpoint. Interesting in the "are you on some kind of drugs, you moron" way. A bit like his tax plans, which were, basically, "yeah, here, pick some options on how you want to pay your tax. If you are poor, you are screwed either way, but I don't care".  What a winner.


As I am writing this, I hear that John Huntsman (who?) and Michelle Bachmann (lets be honest, people would only ever have wanted her to win if she was able to find a vice president called Jim Turner-Overdrive) have withdrawn. Satirists the country over are currently crying into their rum!

Reactions to the death of Kim Jong-il

The world awoke this morning to the shock news that North Korean dictator Glorious Leader Kim Jong-il has died. Upon hearing the news Asian stock markets were plunged into turmoil, and security councils in countries the world over were convened to figure out where this would leave the North Korean dictatorship Glorious Leadership.

It also prompted comments from leaders, politicians and celebrities across the globe. Here is what some of them had to say:

Former president, George W Bush: “When I was told that King Kong was ill in North Koreastan, I almost dropped my cheeseburger. I said to Laura, 'honey, did I send a giant gorilla overseas at any point? I don't remember it, but there was that night at Mel Gibson's party, we all got a bit wasted, and you never know...'. Laura said I didn't, and that's good enough for me. Now, watch this putt”

Herman Cain: “At no point did I ever make any inappropriate suggestions or physical contact with any North Korean dictators. Just ask all the other millions of North Koreans, they'll back me up, they know I'm a standup kinda guy.”

Standing beside Mr Cain, former president Bill Clinton: "I did not have sexual realations with that dictator. Mr Jong-il. Umm, if anyone finds any stains on his shirt, it wasn't me, and ummm, you won't find any cigars lying around. Covered in lube. No siree, none at all... Ummmm... I need to make a couple of calls real quick..."

Rick Perry: “The North Korean dude died? Man, that's too bad. What was his name again... Kim.... ummmmm... the second part was Jong... I don't remember the third part of his name. Is it Kim Jong-EPA?”

Michelle Bachman: “With the death of Kim Jong-II, and the assumption of his son, Kim Jong-III we need to make sure that the conservatives of America join together to make sure that Kim Jong the 3^rd doesn't allow same sex marriages, but that all North Koreans have the choice to select whatever light bulb they want.”

Former Vice-Presidential Candidate Sarah Palin: “Who?”

Mayor of London, Boris Johnston: “Well, obviously, erm, yes, the Koreans will be, well, indeed, there's a fly buzzing around in here, anyway, yes, Korea, well, what can I say, erm, as Mayor of London I need of course, to make sure that the Olympics are the best ever, and obviously, the beans of choice would be Heinz baked beans, but what was I talking about? Oh, yes, well, Korea, yes, the, erm, man, erm, leader type, Kim... Kim... ummmm, Kim.... Kardashian-il that's the man, yes, well, obviously, he's under a great deal of... oh, he died, well, that's a completely different kettle of fish”

Jeremy Kyle: “Today on my show, 'I am Kim Jong-il's illegitimate love child'. Join us as we try and get DNA samples of the late dictator to see if 15 year old Chantelle, 14 year old Chardonnay and 13 year old Babushka are the result of 3 secret laisons between Kim Jong-il and their mother, Tracy from Essex”

Glenn Beck: “It's no shock to me that Kim Jong-il is dead, after all, the democrats were out to get him just because he was clearly republican – look at the facts, he was a proponent of small government, i.e., just him, you can't get much smaller than that. Besides, Bill O'Reilly once told me that Kim Jong-il once watched one of his holiness St Ronald of Regan's movies. You can't argue with that. What really grinds my gears though is that the liberals will say “Oh, Obamacare would have saved him”. Really? Let's look at the facts, Obamacare costs money, that money could have been better spent by the states, not by the federal government, so the tea party could have decided that (we apologise to our readers, but at this point Mr Beck started foaming at the mouth, and whilst we are used to him not making any sense, we couldn't actually work out what he was saying here, other than the occasional “buy my book, it's all in there”)

Speaking from the local lunatic asylum, Mel Gibson: "He got what he deserved for going out looking like a f**king SLUT! And, you know who killed him. It was the Jews. It's all their fault. That's why no one watches my movies any more, Kim Jong-il said that all my movies were great."  (Mr Gibson did try to say more, but he was dragged back into his cell room by his 'helpers'.)

David Hasselhof: "You can thank me later. Just sit back and watch the power of my music unify the two Koreas, just as it did for Germany back in the day."

South Korean president, Lee Myung-bak: “Balls. Apparently his son is just as batshit tonto as he was. Ain't that a pisser.”

North Korean government spokesman: “We are sad today to mourn the death of our beloved leader, our inspiration and our sole reason for being, Kim Jong-il. He died after playing a round of golf, where he scored a hole in one on every hole, indeed, such was his golfing ability that he managed to play a full 18 holes in just 17 shots once. That's how good he was. Sadly, he was taken from us before his time as he was single handedly beating Godzilla, Barack Obama, Angela Merkel, the 1975 Philadelphia Flyers, Hulk Hogan, Muhammed Ali, Jesus, Buddha, Vladimir Putin, the ghost of Jack the Ripper and Chuck Norris at every sport known to man, including team sports, on his own, whilst at the same time proving that he, and only he could in fact, travel faster than light, and using the tip of his penis to crush diamonds, proving that they are not, after all, the hardest substance on earth, if ya know what I'm saying, nudge nudge, wink wink.

Our glorious leader is has already taken over all heavens, and God, Apollo, Zeus, Allah, Zoroaster and all other deities now report to him. Never again will the world see a man such as him. What? His son? Shit. Yeah. Ok, Apart from his son, our new glorious leader, the world will never again see someone such as him, who was able to beat any man, machine or beast at chess, who could solve a rubiks cube in under .05 of a second, just by looking at it, who was the 9 times winner of the Tour de France (the only reason you are just finding that out is because your pathetic western press wouldn't publish the TRUTH! Apart from Fox News. Those guys are ok), who solved AIDS and cancer, neither of which exist in the glorious land of North Korea.

The legend that is Kim Jong-il will live eternally, not even death will hold him, for even from the afterlife he will continue to awe and inspire, as he has already announced that from beyond the grave, he has written the best opera ever, his latest novel “Why the Earth is Shit Without Me” is only not being published because when people read it, they will be so overawed by his majestic grasp of literature, that they would kill themselves out of despair at the knowledge that they will never be even one millionth as much of the man that he was, and indeed, still is. Even dead, Kim Jong-il is still more of a man than the rest of the human race put together.”

The Many, and the Few

Today is Armistice day, the day when we pause to refelct the sacrifice of those who gave all for their country, and who continue to make the ultimate sacrifice to this day. Regardless of your thoughts about the legalities or ethics of the wars being fought today, one can not, and should not, cast any shadow on the dedication and bravery of those who serve.

I wrote a short poem last year, it's not much of a poem, but then I'm not much of a poet. So, dedicated to all who have worn the uniforms of our armed services, past and present...  


The Many, and the Few

We stand here in silence, to pause and reflect
To think about those who deserve our respect
Those who are still in our mind and our hearts
Long after God has called them to depart

Some of them now, passed so long ago
Their memories lie where the poppies now grow
But days do not pass, but their numbers increase
The demon of war not yet ended his feast

The young and the old, the many, the few
Those who will never more feel morning's dew
Their names now inscribed on so sacred a stone
Yet still missed and loved by those left at home

So we think of our brothers, our sisters our kin
Our mothers and fathers, our own blood and skin
We see with our hearts and feel with our tears
Their memory only enhanced by the years

We remember those too, who still here remain
Their innocence lost in that hellish domain
We tend to their wounds and we comfort their cries
And see in them strength, their pain yet defies

Now on this day, we give you our word
That your deeds and actions will always be heard
With pride and with honour we whisper your name
And promise your deeds will not be in vain