Braaaaaaains!

Well, it's the 31st October again, so I thought I would give you all a little gift using my impressive Microsoft Paint skills.

What's the Yasser with you OY! Ramallahs a luvverly place OY!

So I see that Yasser Arafat is very ill and has been rushed for emergency treatment here to Paris. Apart from the fact that as a result the traffic will be a bitch tonight, I'm not wholly convinced that this was a great idea.

Yasser has been holed up in his Ramallah compound in the West Bank for over two years now, simply because the Israelis (the worlds must trustworthy folk) have promised him that if he ever tries to leave, then he will not be permitted to return. So, he hasn't left. Status Quo.

Now he has got to leave because he is ill, and the Palestinians have made Israel "promise" that he will be allowed to return safely. Hmm. I can see how that conversation went.

Palestine "Look, we know you said he wouldn't be allowed to return, but he's ill - would it be OK just this once? Then we can return to this stand-off you love so much?"

Israel "Oh, he's ill is he?" *snigger* "Oh well that's different" *hehehe* "Of course *cough* he can return *cough* safely" authors note: At this point there were unconfirmed rumours of a voice shouting "In a box" in the background

Maybe I'm being cynical. We'll see what happens. However I will blow my own trumpet for perhaps my greatest headline ever.

Fish or chicken?

The latest weird news to hit the web revolves around a Delta flight attendant (used to be called stewardesses) who has been suspended due to the content of her blog.

Apparently, Delta have taken exception to pictures of the Queen of the Sky posing in her Delta uniform. Ok, here's the picture as you asked nicely:



It seems like Delta were worried about the fact this could bring negative publicity on the airline. It certainly seems like they have done that without her help. However, I have also located a very very funny flash film made to the audio of an old "Delta Ghetto" advert.

Listen up to this mofo

Achtung! It's Osama

A wonderful conversation with a driver from one of the German companies last night.

We were talking about cars, and I pointed out that one car I really want to buy, and almost did last year, is the Triumph Spitfire.



I said they were quite difficult to come across now, as they are very old. He surprised me by mentioning that they are quite popular in Germany and a number of his friends own one. Quick as a flash I was happy to reply that when my Grandad last brought one over it wasn't very popular at all. In a dream of straight-man comedy my friend replied "Oh, when?"

"1944 mate"

On another note, it is now 7 days until the US election (finally) and by my reckoning only 5 days until it is announced that they have found Wally. I mean Osama.

Nothing Chimpy McFlightsuit does to win this election would surprise me.

Back to normal

Well I have finally returned. Unfortunately, Tiger Woods 2003 sucked an astonishing amount of my life away - but now I have finished it I can sit back in satisfaction and wonder how on earth else to fill may days.

I did have a fleeting visit to the UK this week. It sucked. I did have my first fish n chips in over a year which albeit soggy was very good indeed, but other than that not a good visit. Firstly I fucked up on the time zones - not something I'm prone to doing considering I actually work in two different zones - but I managed it and as a result only had something like 4 hours sleep.

I was in the UK for a hospital appointment. Those of you who know me are aware that I have the crappiest right leg (or hip at least) known to man. It is so screwed up and so much shorter than the other than I have to stand my right leg on tiptoes when I take a piss to stop falling over. Believe me, Christopher Reeve doesn't know qute how good he had it.

So I have been on the NHS waiting list for an operation for two years now. Finally the date arrives and the stupid bastards send the letter to my old address, forcing me to miss my appointment and go back to square one. 2 further years of pain thank you doctor. I saw the specialist and he has promised, as a result of the cock-ups, to give me the operation by anout January time. Fantastic! I cried, until he pointed out that I would have to be off work for a minimum of two months afterward. Not as fantastic when you only receive government sick pay.

So it looks like I'm going to be waiting for a while. If you see a miserable looking bastard limping round Paris, mug him. Hopefully it's me - medical insurance kicks in for something non self-inflicted.

Back to the bourbon.

I'm still alive, unlike some

Look at this - at least a week without posting (been playing my new copy of Tiger Woods)

And this is the best that I can come up with. mind you, I pissed myself.

HEEEEEEeeeeeeeelllppppp!

In another example of computers doing their best to thin out the gene pool, todays copy of La Parisien had a great article.

It seems like a chap was driving his car along the motoroway using his nice high technology cruise control when the machine decided to have a little jape with him. Instead of staying at the speed he requested, it sped up as much as possible - to 190km/h (Thats about 120mph in old money), and then stuck there.

Picture the scene, you are now travelling along a busy motorway at 120, with no way of slowing down (or speeding up if that is really what you need). Now picture in your minds eye the Simpsons Marge vs. the Monorail episode. Is there anything doughnuts can't do?

OK, I tried to put a pic here of Homer locked out of the monorail but to no avail.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, the computer finally gave up the ghost about 20miles from the toll booths (the thing that would have made this story really scary) and he safely coasted to a stop. This is going to bring back that recurring nightmare of a rogue airbag-deployment at 90mph that I used to have.

Sweet dreams.

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Well, personally, I wouldn't mind.

So bearing this thought, I have decided the best way to earn shitloads of money. How? you ask. Simple.

When we log onto to news websites in this day and age, what is the first thing you see screaming at you?

Iraq bombing kills x people

The bombing format of choice among our towel-headed friends appears to be the car bomb. There are a couple of these each day, with no sign of it abating. Therefore, it begs the question - where exactly are these people obtaining their vehicles? Do they have a preferred dealer? Do they buy them fatory new?

My proposal is thus. If I could become the general manager of a new company - call it Fudamentalist Bombing Supplies - I could offer a discounted rate on blow-up-able cars. Lets be fair, they probably don't need an inspection ticket/MOT so we can cut a few corners there. Profit!!

Some of you may argue that this is unethical - but it's going to happen anyway, so why not cream a few bucks off the top.

Hate mail to the usual address please.

Assembly required

Possibly the two worst words in the English language. OK, there are a couple of exceptions, although only "you're impotent" immediately springs to mind. I mean after all, if you're dying you don't really have to worry about self-assmebly furniture. I need an electric screwdriver to reduce these blisters.

I willingly went to Ikea today. I know, I can almost hear you saying it "but you detest Ikea" - and you would be right. However, I think I broke all records in the sweep-shopping-time. Regardless, it's a rock'n'roll bed with a raising and lowering headboard. Ideal for those times when you want to have sex read a book.

Marvellous wedding last weekend, and I mean fucking brilliant. Service was a little bit old fashioned - but for those of you who know Paul - you would know that the reception would kick ass. And kick ass it did. I drank so much free red wine my tongue turned black. We also had a helium inhaling competition (I didn't win - my voice is high pitched enough that I got accused of cheating). All in all excellent - I almost hope they get divorced so Paul can get married again.

I will leave you for now with a picture of Mrs Ribby and a drunken me. I have had so much grief about grinning like an idiot on photos that I made a (sub)conscious effort to just smile. An unfortunate result. Mrs Ribby looks fantastic though.