"I'm not asking you to go to the toilet with me.."

An innocent attempt at relieving himself during our written exam left one of my college mates baffled by the invigilator's stern refusal. From the look on her face at his (above-quoted) response I think its safe to say she was more then a little nonplussed herself. By that point we had all had a good look at the exam and shared the same facial expressions that one might associate with mild hysteria. Having now completed the assessment though the placebos have started taking effect..
I have been known to rant a little on this page. I am of course now a little older and a little wiser. That said I am not amused that Easter does not fall within the boundaries of 'Half-term break'. I'm damn sure that Julius Ceasar never had this problem.

No, the Roman Senate knew what side its bread was buttered on. Give Julius his proper holidays and let him attack such tribes as the indominatible Gauls. I too face an undefeatable opponent. So undefeatable that I seem to have forgotten quite who or what he is. Such is the extent of his power. (or hers. never one to be sexist). Still! erm where was I? Yes, I conclude this mesocycle's entry with the declaration that all official holidays recognized by 'Simon Says' as such should be deemed recognizeable as such by such governing bodies at such time egad, et. al etc..

Condolences to Martin Taylor

I have read a few articles and heard a few professional opinions this weekend about the infamous 'Eduardo tackle'. Based on these opinions of many respected English journalists and ex players I realise now that the true victim was Martin Taylor. Yes, this site condemns Eduardo Da Silva for bruising Taylor's foot with his shin. Here is the evidence:


On a lighter note I accompanied Mr. K to a Jimmy Carr gig this weekend. It was a pleasant evening, and the comedy was of a high caliber. Also, congratulations to Tottenham Hotspur (not often I say that!) for a deserved Carling Cup win. It appears Roman Abramovich has wasted his money on a team of lacklustre millionaires. Apologies for the sparsity of blogging recently. Alas a disease of the throat has been plaguing me for much of the last few weeks. Expect another blog soon though. Till then stay away from nasty Croatians...

Sky Sports United F.C.

Those of you who know me will not be surprised to learn that I am less then amused with all the current fuss about the anniversary of the Man United Air travesty. Despite this I am not going to stoop to their level and use my blog to abuse the occasion. In fact, as a tribute I am going to advertise the club in my own special way...


SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Where wife beaters, rapists and alcoholics are all on the books.

SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Where a star player is a Portuguese bi-sexual.


SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Where another star player has intercourse with a granny.

SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Where the manager gets away with speeding because of the club lawyers.

SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Where referees get demoted a division after the manager complains about their performance.

SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Where absurd amounts of injury time appear when you aren't winning.

SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Where a highly dubious penalty is never far away.

SUPPORT MANCHEATERS UNITED - Where a powerful TV station is not seen to be in conflict of interests despite owning a stake in your club.

SUPPORT MANCHESTER UNITED - Because everyone else does..

Save the Dolphin

Those of you who regularly read my site will be aware that Mr. K and I frequent the Dolphin, an adequate, till lately quiet pub. In recent weeks we have both seen events take a turn for the worse. Namely the wretched racket that now greets our ears on Saturday evenings. The first instance of this audio-mugging was the onset of live music. Truth be told the quality is inconsistent. There has been one occasion when the musicians were not a nuisance. Regrettably this is the exception, not the rule.
As well as the hideous screeching that comes out of the pumped up speakers, last week there was a new evil at our dear local. What? you may ask. What wizardry caused us such indignation? Australia Day. Yes. Though no Paul Hogan from 'Crocodile Dundee'. No memorial to Steve Irwin. Just a lot of stupid 15-year olds drinking Fosters. Well what's wrong with that you old man? You might be thinking. My answer? The gibberish that accompanied their tomfoolery blaring out over the sound system. No didgery doo, no Aboriginal choral effort, no nothing remotely Australian. Just some tuneless beats. In my day...

1 broken bottle lying on the floor

Its good to be back in the thick of blogging again. Especially when events such as what happened on Saturday night are there to be recounted..
It was a normal night just like any other. Watkins, Mr. K and I were on our usual post-work shopping trip, nothing was out of the ordinary. Then, rather innocuously, the trouble started. Firstly Mr. K asked me if I would carry his excessively heavily packed basket across the store. Upon looking at him apologetically and saying that I was tired after my long day at work, he then proceeded to produce a dangerous looking implement that I later learned was a knife from his belongings and told me that if I didnt do as he demanded then there'd be man meat for sale at Sainsburys. With such a threat ringing in my ears, I had no other option but to comply.
Shortly afterwards Mr. K then placed 3 Sheppys cider bottles ON THE TOP of all the other shopping. To add insult to the precarious position of the bottles, my tormentor then muttered in Dorset tones, "Ooh, they'll fall off they will." To prove Bath's answer to Punksatawny Phil correct, one of the bottles did indeed fall and break into tiny little pieces on the shop floor. Mr. K then had the audacity to request that I clear it up. Over-awed by his sharp piece of soothsayery I had not the capacity to respond in a language known to man. This ends a somewhat stormy edition of what I believe will be a more frequent 'SIMON SAYS' throughout 2008. Fin

Happy New Year!

Alright alright, I know its a bit late. Everything has been a bit hectic of late: ill over Xmas, social occasions, Xmas shopping, the Apocalypse, women (the last two are co-incidentally next to each other..). Anyway, happy giblets to everyone. I resolve to blog more in 2008. Please stop rolling your eyes Mr. K...

On the first day of Christmas I went shopping..bah humbug.

Busy town + tired me = exhausted me :-( I'm sure everyone is used to the normal rabid rush in and out of shops. Still it catches me out time again. If men were meant to shop we'd have been given estrogen and breasts. I, you will be glad or maybe not to know, don't possess either. Unfourtunatly I must return to the labrynth of stores later this week with debit card in hand and hardened look on face. It is the latter of these that ensures a young male of the species, such as me, has a chance of withstanding the experienced shopping tactics of middle age and occasionaly younger women. A grope here, a muffled apology there and all of a sudden they're in front of you. Its subversive, but it damn sure works. I will report back on my mission and the heroic exploits that follow. Till then wishing you a merry and unfondled Christmas!