chrisp65

Craig Charles (again) in February.

and of course, he's half right

hmmm, not convinced sorry I won't reel off the list of non-religious nutters that have inspired the deaths of millions, we've all rehearsed the arguments perhaps we need some sort of scoreboard?

So we've just about come to the end of our contract on Malta, we're at the long triumphant emotional goodbyes stage. The ex owner of the company has come across for a what is basically a freebie party few days and the pair of us decide that rather than actually do any work we'll take the hire car and drive up the island to find his old house from the 1970's. The area has obviously changed a fair bit in the intervening 40 years but we cruise the general area and then 'bam' there it is 'muuuu, stop the car stop the car, there it is, my old house, muuuu'. (Imagine Toast of London, but as a pensioner). We stop the car outside a large detached and walled house. All quite impressive and in keeping with what he had described. He promptly gets out of the car, rattles the handle of the large solid double gates but they are locked. That's no obstacle, he props a stone against the wall, stands on the stone, reaches high and starts clicking his camera blindly above head height over the wall to get photos into the garden and of the house. A little rude I thought. Then the big metal gate creaks open and a slightly startled young woman in a bikini asks us what we are doing. She was lying there when the camera appeared over the wall! John explains this used to be his house back in the day, so he was getting some photo's to show the wife. Oh, Maltese girls visibly relaxes and invites us in for a proper look! No messing about, John's through the gate so I have to follow. Straight into the house, John asks if they've done work as the kitchen used to be a bit smaller. She doesn't think so, she's lived there all her life, she is sixteen and doesn't remember any building work. Ah, but John was here 40 or 50 years ago so there might well have been. She then volunteers the information that her parents are both out but she can phone and ask them. No, no, don't go to any bother says John and asks if there is still a sea view from the balcony. Oh yes, that's my room do you want to see? Yes! Says John, to the 16 year old that has told us her parents are out. We all three of us troop up the stairs and I'm now beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable with the whole thing. 'Excuse the mess' she says as her bed is covered in clothes and books and wotnot. We go straight through and out on to the balcony. John gets his phone out and calls his missus. 'Daphne! Daphne! You'll never guess where I am? I'm on the balcony where I proposed to you 50 years ago!'. Daphne is suitably impressed, the girl thinks it's wonderfully exciting and romantic and takes his camera off him and takes photo's of him on her balcony. John claims that he used to stand on the balcony wall and jump in to the pool below. I'm dubious of this claim as the pool is a good 3 or 4 metres away and it would need to be a truly impressive leap not to kill yourself. But I smile. I'm uncomfortable. Anyway, time goes on, we have an exhaustive photo record of the house, we have photo's of the girl (now wearing a top and joggers thankfully), and John has exchanged contact details. We decline the offer of tea, we decline the offer to stay until the parents get home. Give a cheery goodbye and leave. We get in the car, John is ecstatic with having had such a great time with so many memories. I engage first gear and drive off. No more than 50 or 60 metres down the road John suddenly shouts: 'No, hang on! Stop! That's it there! I thought the other one was all a bit wrong.' He has sworn me to absolute and total secrecy regarding the whole escapade.

Midlands is North... ...a quick look at my 2006 edition AA road map.....yep, Birmingham is above the M4 and therefore 'northern'.

The AA were particularly baffled by that tactic, I had them on the phone for quite a while getting them down to the same price as AXA. Once they price matched I got them to go lower which needed a manager to approve. Then I told them to shove it as they'd changed their offer so much I basically couldn't trust them.

Tourist? Fellow backpacker? **** that pal! You don't go to Thailand to slam the same old shit you get back home... get yourself balls deep in premium Thai muff On a serious note, don't waste your time with someone like that. You're trying to do the right thing by her and you get moaned at. Move on The opportunity is obviously there for Thai prossies but in all honestly I find it all really seedy and couldn't bring myself to do it. Yep I said goodbye last night and left it at that. So shit at closing the deal If you get to the point where you think 'this sex ain't happening' there is one last roll of the dice that is worth trying - but it is a last roll. You just say that she must realise that you've been interested in her, that you find her fascinating and colours are brighter in her presence and she gets you all itchy and warm and confused - and that you have £80 in your pocket you'd be more than happy to leave on the table.

I'm not convinced that if there was no religion then the 220 million people of Pakistan and Afghanistan would all be content and there would be perpetual peace.

as a neutral: South is so far better I just don't understand how it's any kind of issue any metric you care to use (other than sleet) and South wins

Bicks, to be fair the resemblance was more in the playing stats than anything else

Had apparently also started referring to himself as 'Sheikh', too. It's very early days but this one appears to be more the 'poor bugger' end of the evil spectrum (as opposed to the other current story from Pakistan). It doesn't excuse anything, just in case anyone misunderstands my meaning.

Yeah I think there's more mental illness and confusion than actual religiously inspired martyrdom. Apparently he did at one point get a black flag put up in the window of the cafe but the wording wasn't right, so he added a correct flag to his list of demands. I'm not convinced that if I was that in to a cause I'd ge the main strapline wrong. Accusations of sexual assaults and sending letters to mourners also smacks of low grade mental illness building in to something far far more serious.

essentially, that was my last weekend summed up in 15 words!

I don't think it needs any kind of book in any language to tell you not to kill innocent children. It's a special kind of crazy whenever and wherever and for whatever 'reason' it's done. From burning them with agent orange, or picking them off with a rifle, or protecting a murderous regime, it's a pretty disturbing thing to be capable of.

With no intention to trivialise recent events, can we just temper any thoughts on 'modern' madness or any one root cause of terrorism and violence. the colour of a flag may change, but essentially little else does 103 year ago, The Siege of Sidney Street. Remarkably similar and at the time, anarchism was seen as the major threat to civilisation.

I know it's a slight obsession, but I can't see any further than...

I'd have thought you'd scare the shit out of them. Yelling and screaming and tackle out. Not sure I'd want to be confronted by that if I were ever to find myself a-burgling. Naked is the way to go. Nothing better. I have, when tested, burst down stairs naked except for slippers, clutching a hairbrush. Burst into the living room and attempted a sort of cartwheeling manoeuvre. There was nobody there as it happens and I kicked the coffee table, but I'm quite confident that if there had been an intruder then the site of me naked and angry would have gained me the element of surprise. Best of both worlds though, the missus heard something and I went full alpha male ninja fwktard proving my silverback credentials whilst not actually having to do anything as it was a false alarm.

Have you always done it, or just latte ly?

do not operate heavy machinery consult your doctor if driving may make you slightly racist and a bit homphobic can cause slight rash

I'm quite attracted to the whole aggressive lesbian chic thing. Ah the irony of being one of the few blokes accepted into a little political group of aggressive les types that did all the usual protests and hunt sabbie stuff. I talked a good talk, but really what I wanted most ( I realised years later) was for one of them to fancy me. After several weeks of listening to people read shit out of spare rib or spending weekends sat (kind of scared) in the back of a minibus waiting to block a road a hunt might or might not come down I realised not one of them was going to touch my penis and I sort of drifted away.

great days indeed but the parent teachers fund raising evening in the main hall of St Josephine's Mixed Infants was neither the right time or place and you know it