A losers diary


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Does all the things that a spider can...and he can get out of a bath

I saw my niece.

She came up to me, all excited, clutching a three inch flexible rubber spiderman toy from my childhood. It either belonged to me or my brother, I don't really remember, as I think we both had one.

She said 'look what I've got! Who is it?'

So, naturally I said 'ooh, that's Spiderman'.

She nodded and said 'where does he come from?'

'He come from New York, a really cool city a long way away. There was a boy and he got bitten by a special spider and when he woke up he could do all the things that a spider can do.

He was really strong.'

I moved the toys arms as if he were flexing his muscles to show her.

'...and he could climb walls'

I put it against the wall and made climbing up movements.

'...and he could fire spiders webs out of his wrists'

I held its arm out and made a vague attempt at a webshooting noise

'...and he could use the webs to swing between buildings'

I made him move through the air.

And then I put the toy back in her hands, feeling like a good uncle.

She looked at it, she looked at me and she said

'No, where does he come from. You or Daddy?'
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Why was that chocolate so more-ish?

Because it was a fucking liquor...

arse and tits and fuck.

Read the fucking labels man, read the fucking labels before you tuck in...


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My Chemical Toilet

Someone used the phrase ‘self flushing toilets scare the shit out of me’ in an email to me, and all it made me think of was that annoying ‘My Checmical Romance’ song ‘Teenagers scare…’

This, sadly, is the result of the fact that I just couldn’t get it out of my head.

I know, I know, I'm so very very sorry, but once I'd written it, I had to put it somewhere.

I want to go for a sh*t
And chill out while I sit
And have a relaxing poo
But I’m too scared to crap
In this mechanical trap
In case it sucks me in too

Because the powerful suck
Means I’m gonna get stuck
And get my intestines caught in the machine
It could rip out my guts,
My stomach, my nuts
And flush them deep down the latrine

Self flushing toilets scare the sh*t out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So if you really must poo, then that’s alright for you
But I won’t go in there, oh not me.

The boys and girls are the same
They all think I’m lame
But I’ll never sh*t in one, kid
And if my stomach might hurt
Well I’ll just stay alert
So you don’t find the turd I just hid

Self flushing toilets scare the sh*t out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So if you really must poo, then that’s alright for you
But I won’t go in there, oh not me.

Ohhh yeah!

Self flushing toilets scare the sh*t out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So if you really must poo, then that’s alright for you
But I won’t go in there, oh not me.

All together now!

Self flushing toilets scare the sh*t out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So if you really must poo, then that’s alright for you
But I won’t go in there, oh not me.


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I suppose I have more to say today than just a link.

Obviously the news came as a bit of a shock. Less so to me than to her, i would imagine...

But having talked to her and having read some more, I guess, as these things go, things could be worse.

She's positive she'll be OK, even thought it's going to get bad over the coming months, and she's fortunate to be near Vanderbilt's cancer unit, apparently one of the most highly regarded in the country.

Ironic that she gets a disease associated with a history of drinking and smoking so it went undiagnosed though. If I got it, they'd probably figure it out straight away.

Anyway, any good thoughts, prayers, wishes you may have spare, keep sending them Nashville way for me.

Edit: It occurs to me that it may not be obvious, but she is 'Illinois' from my way back when, in case you didn't know.


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and 201 went smoothly, 202 is looking good.

And Southend won. Which I realised was the first time I have actually been at a game and not seen them lose or at best draw in over six years.

I'd almost forgotten what it was like not to storm out of my seat in a bad mood at the final whistle, but to actually stay and applaud them off the field.

Shame I ruined my mood by seeing 'Buried' though. Yikes.


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Is it any wonder religion has a bad name?

I got to Southend a couple of hours early for the football on Saturday, so I went off to get myself a coffee. There was nowhere to sit outside the coffe shop, so I wandered down to the end of the precinct and sat under the millenium clock on one of the spare benches.

I'd seen the street preacher as I sat down, and figured if I just ignored him I'd be able to read the paper without really being too distracted by him, even though my preference would have been to have been far away from someone banging on about Hell and Damnation (presumably he didn't actually mean spending two hours watching Southend on a Saturday afternoon).



Now, I'm an Atheist, I think that's probably widely known, but i do have sympathy for the point of view that the likes of Dawkins are no better than those on the opposite side of the equation when they ram their views down your throat and assume you are dumb for not agreeing with them. I'd normally say that they are as bad as each other and you may as well try to ignore them all.

But my sympathies moved somewhat when I realised that never in my life have I heard, or am I likely to hear, an Atheist standing up on the street with a megaphone and claiming a moral equivelance like this one:

"And God says you are damned to hell if you lie. One lie in your life and you will go to hell. You might say "Isn't God being a bit harsh? Isn't eternity in Hell too harsh for just telling one lie in your life?". You may think so, you may think that is too harsh, but let me ask you this. How many lies do you think it should take before you go to hell? One is not enough? Two? Three? Lieing is a sin, you sin and you go to hell. Is just one lie worthy of hell? Well, how many eight year old girls do you need to rape before you go to hell? One? Two?'




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I'd buy a ticket

That's some production someone on the other side is pulling together.

Stephen J. Cannell
Tony Curtis
Greg Giraldo
Joe Mantell,
Mickey Freeman
Arthur Penn
Sally Menke
Gloria Stuart,
Sir Norman Wisdom


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I can't find a single way to make a joke about this that is not in bad taste.

But I still can't help but imagine this may also have been how she felt about our sex life...

Britta Watters is glad to be flexible enough not to be disappointed by things beyond her control.


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Times pass...

...sometimes more quickly than you realise.

Its about 20 years since Billy Bragg was proud of being from Barking.

He had that iconic picture stood next to an Essex sign, hiding the first two letters (which is slightly childish, I know, but it was still great)

since then, Essex has had almost no one standing up for it in musical terms.

Depeche Mode would not mention Basildon if you bribed them.

Blur will pretend to be from London even if you were holding hot metal to there feet.

Erasure would deny that the day my brother found gay porn in Vince Clarkes house ever happened.

But Darren Hayman is proud of being from here.

(and yes, I still think Plan B is shit)


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I grew up in Essex...

...I never knew anyone this eloquent:

It's how I feel about you, IRC...

We took our memories and wrote them down
We got a history that doesn't do us proud
I loved you then as I love you now
And there's nothing you can do about it now.


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It's like he's reading my heart...

Please, please, if you have the vauguest interest in knowing or understanding me, go and by the Darren Hayman album that I can't stop listening to. It's like the man has looked into my brain and written it down.

It is, truly, Essex.

There's a photo on the booklet of graffiti on a Farmer's gate that says 'Rayleigh Will Fuck Up Southend'.

It reminds me of the best, most succint and heart rending thing I have ever seen.

Scratched, with some obvious effort, on to the plastic coveriing the bus timetable in the stop opposite Laindon's derelict shopping centre: "Essex Bores The Fuck Out Of Me"

If I haven't persuaded you yet. Try this:

I once made a joke to someone that I would take her dogging behind The Halfway House on the A127*. I thought maybe I had shared too much of myself in that joke. Darren Haymen has written a whole fucking song about the same thing. The very same fucking pub...

I think I finally know what love feels like.

*Seriously, I could leave the house now and be there within a five minute walk. I mean, it would be fairly pointless without a car and a woman who has 'Next' written in her underwear, but I could do it...
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Unrequited love still has its limits.

Oh, Isla Fisher.

I love you. I do. I always have. I even forgave you when you made me hate Sascha Baron Cohen by making him the man that wakes up to you in the morning.

I think I was actually preprogrammed to love you. Its in my DNA. The moment my Daddy splurted me into my mother's welcoming vagina, it was already written that I would love you.*

So I say this with pain.

But if you think that you really think that shitty romcom you are hyping that has an all female cast of Hamlet is 'the most original thing I have ever seen' then you probably need to read more.

Specifically, read "Y - The Last Man"

But I still love you. So apparently unrequited love doesn't have limits after all.


*Yeah, if you think you are disgusted reading that, imagine how I feel right now.


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I saw RED

I don't care what the critics say, I loved it.

It has everything.

I mean, really, who hasn't fantasised about Dame Helen Mirren wearing a ball dress while firing a fuck off machine gun?

Who hasn't fantastised about punching Richard Dreyfus in the face?

Who hasn't fantasised about having Mary-Louise Parker tied to a bed in a seedy motel room?



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One day...

One day, I am not going to leave the office and get struck by how amazing it is to work where I do.

One day, I am nit going to take 45 minutes or more to make what should be a 10 minute walk to Embankment station.

One day, I am not going to wander by the river, getting all emotional and proud as I watch the water go past.

One day, I am not going stroll round staring at The London Eye and being jealous of the people seeing it for the first time.

One day, I am not going to stop and take photo's of the skyline and the bridges and the clouds.

One day, I am not going to understand why Ray Davies wrote Waterloo Sunset when I stand on the bridge and wait until the bright pink sky behind The House Of Parliament fades into dusk and then dark.

One day, I am not going feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I listen to Big Ben chime six o'clock for real and not just because I am at home watching the credits of the evening news.

One day.

but not yesterday,

And probably not today.


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I was getting nagged...

...for not writing enough, but really, I don't have much to say.

I think it was Mark Twain (it probably wasn't) who said 'Humour is born of dispair, not joy' (and that's probably very incorrectly phrased) and while I wouldn't go so far as to claim my life is particularly joyous, it's certainly not exactly full of dispair either.

So I am creativly in a slump.

But...I did remember that actually, there's quite a lot of stuff I wrote for something different that the nagger probably hasn't read, so here's something (hopefully) new:

"That's gotta hurt:

I recently realised that I can't really afford to spend the money I used to spend on going to see Southend play football, as I now live the opposite side of London, so the travel is too expensive (as well as the fact that it's now £25 to watch them - twenty five fucking quid to watch shitty third tier football, it's a digrace, in my day...[insert long rant about rip off football here])


I still like my football fix if I’m at a loose end, so I started to walk down to my local non-league team some Saturday afternoons. A fiver to get in and no travel costs, luvverly.

A few weeks ago, I was standing about 10 yards to the side goal, on a slope, as the away team were coming towards me. The ball came to the forward who lined up a shot that he couldn't miss.

Except, being a shite non-league footballer, he did miss.

By about 10 yards.

It took me a second to realise I was about to get smacked square in the face by the ball, but I just about reacted in time to bend over and spin away.

I guess I kind of expected to still get smacked in the back of the head.

What I certainly didn't expect was to see the ball cannon straight into the face of the 10 year old boy standing behind me up the slope, forcing his hot dog so far into his mouth that Linda Lovelace would have been proud.

I also didn't mean to laugh while he bawled his eyes out.

And I didn't expect to be too scared to go back to the ground since after his Dad told me he didn't want to see my 'fucking face' again.
It's difficult to hide at a non league football ground.

I need something else cheap to do on Saturday afternoons.

(Fri 23rd Jan 2009, 12:36, More)"


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How depressing

Today they announced who is to host the 2018 and 2022 World Cups.

England were bidding to host 2018.

They lost to Russia.

Qatar are hosting 2022.

That's not actually the depressing part.

The depressing part is the text from my Dad saying 'Well, I guess there won't another world cup in England in my lifetime'



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Creature of habit? Me?

New York - Caitlin Rose

Shanghai Cigarettes -Caitlin Rose

That's Alright - Caitlin Rose

The Day That Thatcher Dies - Hefner

Learnin' To Ride - Caitlin Rose

Own Side - Caitlin Rose

For The Rabbits - Caitlin Rose

Spare Me - Caitlin Rose

Things Change -Caitlin Rose

Sinful Wishing Well - Caitlin Rose

Harlem River Blues - Justin Townes Earle

Ain't Waitin' - - Justin Townes Earle

Mama's Eyes - Justin Townes Earle

Comin' Up - Caitlin Rose

Calling Out Your Name Again - Darren Hayman & The Secondary Modern

Dagenham Ford - Darren Hayman & The Secondary Modern

Spiderman Beats Ironman - Darren Hayman & The Secondary Modern

Drive Too Fast - Darren Hayman & The Secondary Modern

Nothing You Can Do About It - Darren Hayman & The Secondary

Move Over Mama - Justin Townes Earle

That is the most played list of my iPod.

And just in case you think I am more adventurous than I actually am, Hefner is Darren Hayman's old band...