Posted 10:11 AM by Gobbler
Evil Uncle meets his Blogger

I have scraped these out of the pits of the minds of people i have met. They are quite rude and i take no responsibility whatsoever on this one. all rights and responsibilities gladly dumped on someone else. Evil Uncle will hve to try hard to come up with fouler. ahh, i just published it but then got jitters about the foulness of it all. i have now edited subtly the poetry

Firstly, a Canadian story

Hickory Dickory Dock,
This chick was sucking my bic biro as she took notes for my meeting.
The clock struck two,
I finished my goo,
And dropped the bi**h off the next block.

ANd a foul american tale

There once was a man from Nantucket,
Who's arm was so long he could touch the roof with it.
He said with a grin,
Wiping chili sauce from a burger from his chin,
"If my ear was a satelite dish i could pick up radio four with it.


Sorry about these but one has to fight evil with evil. Off to Santiago tday, way behind schedule. i may even miss my boat, but with luck all will be well. I suspect they will have internet on board, but if not i will be out of touch for about another week. I'll have to do talk backs another time, im in dire need of making tracks. Hasta luego

Posted 8:34 AM by Gobbler
Not the sharpest Blog on the Block

Ok so my secret sources of intellectual integrity and historical accuracy, and rich, have helped me out of some nasty historical errors.

Firstly we've got that this guy guy wasnt burnt but hung, drawn and quartered. Well, I had quite forgotten. But my secret source, whos very clever and knows lots of things, but is very secret so will be called 'An Old Wise Man' said that he was beheaded so Im not sure what the truth is. Its nice to know they burnt effigys of thst old heathen the Pope as well (but lets not get bogged down in religion) Also, apparently, it wasnt Charles II but James the First, and not the 1560's but 1605. Obviously i just got the numbers mixed up, a little typo there. Although i should be getting on and telling you about my recent adventures which have involved toilets and making people cry, i feel like trying to salvage a little intellectual pride by explaining a little about what upset Guy Faulks and catholic chums.

Basically, not only was James 1st not a Catholic but he was a damned skirt wearing foreigner as well, by which i mean scottish. Probably as a result of too much inbreeding the English ran out of their own candidates for monarch and had to import some foreign product. guy and co werent happy, and elected to take remedial action that ended up in them wasting all that money from all those years of investment in a pension plan. Play with fire and you will get burned or something of the sort.

Right so im going round the world and ive got this blog and im supposed to be writing on it about how its all going, so let me continue.

It only takes ten hours to get the bus from London to Prague

Or so i was assured the other day. And you go through 3 other countries in the process. Well, it took me 40 1/2 hours to get from Tupiza Bolivia to Mendoza Argentina. Half 3 am saturday night to 8 pm Monday night. Three buses. Two countries. One police search (handily Id finally finihed the last of the half a pound of cocaine that i'd bought for a song in peru) two border posts, and two nice new stamps in the old passport. It sounds so easy, and was all going smoothly and according to plan when two unexpected things occurred.

Unexpected occurrance 1: At about midnight on Sunday, on the last bus, i awoke at a station to the familiar tones of someone i knew. How peculiar, i thought. It wasnt anything too peculiar, but Nick, with girlfriend Elly, who had got on the bus at salta and were going my way. It transpired that they were quite keen on 35 kg sirloin pepper steaks and fine wine too, and we agreed to form a gastronomical alliance.

Unexpected occurance 2: At about half an hour past midnight on Sunday, the bus was still in the same bus station. it had managed to go round the station once and then pull in again, but as the mechanics scrabbled around under the bus and in due course began to pull out from the undercarriage suspiciously large and important looking pieces of vehicle it became clear that a new bus was needed. At about 4 one rolled up. Oh well, whats four hours in the great scheme of things?

But this was no replacement bus, no back up. It was a bus that had been diverted from its normal route to pick us up i.e. it was not empty. We, the foreign types, didnt realise this and so were the last ones on the new bus. There were no seats. It was one of those high up jobbies with the seats all along the top and above the drivers cab, with a public convenience facility (bog) down the stairwell in the middle of the bus and a coffee machine around there too. Nick slept in the stairwell, Elly on the coffee machine and i, yes you guessed, on the toilet.

But not on the seat, i mean on the toilet. There are no seats above the toilet as there is no room for them, and instead there is a little luggage space. I perched myself there and managed fitful fifteen minute bursts of shut-eye. it was important not to fall into too deep a sleep as i would probably left my perch and tumbled into the stairwell. This was not a recommended action as i would almost certainly have woken up nick. and possibly damaged the both of us. ho well

Alls well that ends well. Got to mendoza monday evening and headed down to a recommended hostel, damajuanas, had a few beers and decided to eat in the hostels restaurant which was supposed to be ok. the steak was mediocre, and i was crushed. I took refuge in the knowledge that it wasnt the recommended restaurant and bided my steak time.

After that and a few more beverages, we got chatting to some other english types in the hostel. Nice and posh this lot, and i discovered the happy fact that one of them lives just down the road from me, well six or seven miles.

How to make a grown woman very upset.

She, called oh lets say tracy, lives in the village just by old school. We both know the area well of course and it was nice to reminice a little. unfortunately the conversation was not to turn in such a happy direction as the first mutual point of interest to come up was my old school, Douai. Within five minutes i had her on the brink of tears. what a nice fellow i am.

I like a nice debate, and i dont like backing down, but i dont like it when people use idiotic and clearly false arguement and point it out. If youre going to say something youve got to at least think you can show youve got a sensible point and be able to back it up with arguements that at least appear cogent, sophists aside. To briefly go over the conversation that led to me making tracy cry:

Background: douai school is closed and theyre planning to sell it to a housing development, which will create 98 seperate new housing units. locals, here represented by tracy, understandably dont want the development. particularly because the government wants to put asylum seekers in some of the homes. and asylum seekers, as most of us know, tend to be foreigners, and we all know about them.
below is abbreviated conversation
Tracy: "cant have houses there because the road system cant cope with all the extra traffic"
Chauvanist Nick: "with houses about 150 cars a day. With the school, before closure, a very similar number, so no significant change. possibly even fewer cars than when school was open."
Tracy: "no youre wrong thats not right. and anyway they want to put asylum seekers in some of the homes. there are no jobs in the village, and they dont have cars."
Chauvanist Nick: "Well if they dont have cars that should reduce the traffic problem. its a gov directive to house asylum seekers in this way so its happening everywhere, hardly the developers fault. and yes, there are no jobs in the village but there are plenty of jobs in the two neighbouring towns, newbury and reading."
Tracy: "yes but without cars they cant get to the towns and theres no public transport."
Chauvanist Nick: "what about the buses and the trains?"
Tracy: "there arent any."
Chauvanist Nick: "what about the major bus route and train line a fifteen minute walk down the hill?"
Tracy: "no they cant do that"
Chauvanist Nick: "why not?"
Tracy: "because theres no public transport."
Chauvanist Nick: "yes there is."
Tracy: "i think i know whether or not theres any public transport where i live! ((actually i doubt whether tracy, being rich and precious and posh, has ever had to utilise the public transportation system. it is full of common people dont you know)) I dont have to listen to this! I will not be told what buses there are where i live!! This is horrible!! Im not going to sit here and listen to this, I am going to bed!!!..."

And that was that. We could have been friends, but i fear that i have rather ruined any chances of that. Interestingly, the boyfriend, a good lad by all accounts, pointedly ignored the whole affair and his girlfriends ratehr pathetic outburst.

I dont know how you can really get on in this world oif the first time your ideas and opinions are challenged you break down like a six year old who has just been told that he has been bad and will no longer be getting that ice cream or that transformer (robot in disguise) for christmas. but then i do get a bit heated when i get going, maybe she was afraid that i was going to explode. although i wasnt very heated. It wasnt exactly the croquet debate, it was just a simple case of me being right and her not wanting to be wrong. ah well.

Fine Wine, Paul, is very much like making love to a beautifaul woman...

Next night we went to a recommended restaurant, Don Tristans, for a steak and some fine wine. The steak was roughly the size of the monitor i'm currently looking at and the fine wine was very fine. Well the steak wasnt really that big but it certainly the thickest thing ive seen since georges last public speech, and certainly gave my dads two inch sirloins a run for their money. Steak, basically.

Wednesday afternoon i went on a vineyard tour which was interesting enough, particularly walking through the cellars with monster barrels piled high and ancient bottles stacked tall. The highlight was the 'how to drink wine' lesson afterwards and the wine cheese and salami/sausage/chorizo feast afterwards.

The guy who showed us how to drink wine was deeply in love with his wines, and caressed each bottle as if it were a child. He reminnded me of Swiis Tony from the fast show, only he was a genuine version. He was pleased to show us how we should check out the quality of the wine bringing into play all five senses. We all played along and looked like we knew what we were doing, but lets face it wine guru matey was the only one with the first clue. but we had a really good time, many giggles were had, and much cheese and wine were gobbled.

Last night just a few beers were had, and aother pepper steak and fine wine. Its all good. then a long internet during which most of my blog was eradicated. I was supposed to leave on wednesday, then thursday, then today, and i may yet hang around until tomorrow. one more steak... and the company is good.

Evil Uncle: Have taken to making up my own rhymes. got one written down but cant remember it for the moment. Laura: no rescue dogs needed. got some steak and fine wine dont you know. they are doing the trick. Porn directors, now theres a career idea. if your property develpoping doesnt work out you could always try that... or mayber just branch out? Hockey Rich: thats a nice bit of talk back, thats nice to see. King Tiger, what a treat, although usually pounded by the old JSIII. ah well. glad crieff was good. and the window was more like 7 feet off the ground, i had to climb up onto the window ledge to get to it... Scrimshank Mclegs: certainly something naughty going on. Kat at work shhh. But then i wouldnt get such good talk backs. they make me feel good...and yeah, dead cow is proving a commendable eat. feel free to pop by for the weekend, ho ho. Holly Spice Mark II: The Germinator? Of Anika Rice and Men? Good work soldier. And nothing wrong with a bit of self advertising. For example, did you know that i was really great? The_Bro: i suspect that golf sales mk II may be being carried out by hollly spice mkII be aware of the danger. very disturbing, it seems that the golf sale is evolving like some sordid bacterial scourge. grim. but also fascinating as you say. very grateful for the update. have been keeping a sharp look out for them here, but have only been able to locate a place to buy the necessary tools for pub golf. Evil Uncle. Argies nearly got me out cold with a right hook from a massive steak. but i ate it. Kat. Search and rescue, nice work. actually i havent rad it yet due to this blog stuff but will get there soon. Other Gus: you want to get the stationary officer on the case and ensure he has equipped everyone witha fully functional stapler. this effiecient dispersal of stapling appatratus will solve the problem. and i dont have a gun, or did you mean with the stapler. hockey rich: good work on the pope. Have ii ever sharede with you my thoughts about anglicans and their chances of going heaven bound? Sianodel: not sure on that one. Mind you alone in the dark sounds like a right treat. Any word on a release date? Allthe rest: punkalywunkalypunkoids mc jiggery punk.

Posted 11:09 PM by Gobbler
Remember remember the fifth of Blogember

I forgot. For all you damned hippies, punks and all round foreigners out there, you may not be aware of the vital importance of remembering the fifth of november. this year it through me too. As i sit here with a steak in one hand and a fine wine in the other it is difficult to remember anything other than the location of Don Tristans restaurant, purveyor of the finest 35kg sirloin steak bad boy, washed down with a bottle of Mendozas fine Cabernet Sauvignon 2001. But just to show that i know all about things and stuff like that, and because if i am qualified in anything in this world iit is in history (degree dont you know) i will briefly explain the intriguing events of a chap called Mr. Guy Faulks and the king of England, a chap called the king. King Charles II to be precise. In the year of our Lord Fifteen hundred and Sixty something. Or was it Charles I some twenty years earlier. - Oh SPLENDID, Ive just sp?tted on the book shelf in here: 'THE BOOK OF MORMON ANOTHER TESTAMENT OF JESUS CHRIST' Ive currently run out of reading material (accept of course Aristotle and R.G. Collingwood, but they infrequently make entertaining reading) and figure itd make and interesting read - I shouyld point out at this stage that i've never studied that part of british history, history is quite a big place, and so am not entirely sure of the facts. I do know for example, that the solution to the 'ring versus the mule' debate has important ramifications for the reasons for the failure of the British cotton industry to successfully compete on the global market, notably against the USA, from 1921 onwards, but other things like old kings my knowledge lies strictly in the wings.

Basically, this guy, Guy, was a Catholic, and King Charles II was an Anglican. Guy, this catholic guy, wasnt very keen on Charles, who wasnt. (Catholic) He guy, this catholic guy and a few pals decided that it woud be a good idea to blow up charles when he was hanging out in the houses of parliament, the place where government decided how the peasants should earn them their money. Handily this would also kill a load of politicians, who guy and other gus didnt like much either. It was easier in those days because the politicians didnt drive around everywhere in tanks, which werent around until 1915, some years later. They decided the best way to blow up king and co was to use a lot of gunpowder. hence the gunpowder plot. They built a tunnel under parliament and packed it full of the stuff. Unfortunately they were discovered and both parliament and king alike were mighty displeased. to be honest you cant blamem them. guy Faulks nd others were promptly burnt to death. in other words, for them, it all went tits up in the end. They were grilled on the fifth of november. Nowadays on that day we all build a big bonfire and kids make guy faulks lookalikes, which we then chuck on the fire and have a good old chuckle about things.

Why the heck am i talking about blinking guy faulks? Its half past four in the a.m.

Its now half past five in the blinking morning the scintillating blog i have been working on for the past arsing hour all about buses and punks and hippies and steak and fine wine and the last five days has just been lost when the computer decided for no good reason to crash. Im going to bed now, i cannot be bothered to write it again tonight/this morning, and in any case no longer trust this damed computer. THe world is conspiring against my blogspt, and Bill Gates is an effing punk.