Saturday, 7 June 2014


A beautiful woman prompted me to write this. You know who you are, thank you.

It’s 3:46am and i can’t sleep. It seems poignant that this whole thing started in much the same way, I couldn’t sleep and just started writing. I just looked at the “blog”, read a couple of the pieces, listened to some tunes (there are some wicked ones there) and realized it was nearly a year since I had posted anything. A year. What a shitty blog.

Anyway, I’m here and the intermittent r key is no more, I have a nice shiny mac, so let’s write something. What shall we write about today? The simple answer is I don’t fucking know. I’m lacking inspiration. My friends and life provide plenty of inspiration but for the moment the focus isn’t there. Concentrating on a single thing seems difficult. Allow me a moment to find a suitable tune and I shall return.

Cellos and rock. Shit doesn’t get much better. Volume bitches, this requires (no, it demands) it. I don’t know why but stringed instruments turn me on. That’s probably why I fantasize about Vanessa Mae. It sure ain’t her skiing.

Maybe it’s Vanessa or my friends inspiration, but I have found a subject. Beautiful women. Why? Because it’s my fucking blog and I love beautiful women. I will not apologize for this, nor should I, we are all here as a result of beautiful women.

I shall quote John Keats (I probably did before, but I don’t give a shit, my blog), he said “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”. Yes John, you are correct.

I’ve posted a Pete Townsend number before but somehow I missed out these guys. Please forgive me, they have many awesome tunes, this is particularly good.

Sophia Loren was, and amazingly still is, a stunning woman. Younglings you have no idea who I’m talking about. Moog her now. Right now. Stop reading this shite and moog! Now hit images and look. Holy fucking shit she is a babe. Ladies, please don’t be upset, I mean it as term endearment.

When you’ve finished admiring/jacking have a look at Raquel Welch. You’re welcome. Sweet baby Jesus this woman looks better at 70+ than most of the tarts I’ve ever met. And I don’t want to brag but I have met some particularly good looking tarts!

Tia Carrere. If Wayne’s World and True Lies weren’t reason enough (they should be, both are fuckin awesome) just take a moment and look.

This is a cover of an Ed Sheeran song and he is wicked. But this kid rocks it big style. I love this shit.

This may all seem a little shallow and I suppose it is, but beauty isn’t skin deep. I love to look at beautiful things, be they cars, paintings, houses, watches or cufflinks. It isn’t just how they look but also how they feel. The heft of a fine timepiece or how a car door closes with a solid thunk, is very reassuring to me. They don’t just look beautiful, but feel it too. I always thought that losing my sight would be a terrible thing. I don’t always think these things, it’s just one of those strange thought I’ve had, we all have them. Being blind would be terrible but those without sight appreciate the beauty of a thing without looking at it. Most of us don’t.

Bear with me for a minute and try this. Find something you love (a thing, not something sentient) nearby and close your eyes. Enjoy the feel of it. Is it cool or warm, soft or hard, smooth or textured? Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop! This is getting a bit weird because I just realised how sexual all of this sounds. You were reading it in an innocent manner but when you re-read it now you’ll realize what I mean. Right?

Sorry, had to make a quick detour. Tune o’clock.

I was going to finish this off by talking about how beauty isn’t skin deep and some of the most beautiful people I know aren’t good looking. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not passing judgement, I ain’t George Clooney. What I mean is they are people whose company I love and who I care for. What they look like doesn’t matter to me.

But that is a load of sentimental romantic bollocks. Instead of thinking of the inner beauty and the company of ugly people lets do this. Find a partner, I don’t care if you’ve been with them for years or just found them on the net. Forget about how they look but enjoy the touch. Feel their skin, eyelashes, butt, boobs, fingernails, lips, hair. Even their bunions. Feels pretty fucking good, doesn’t it? Except the bunions. But the rest of it feels wicked.

Please note, when I said partner above it helps, and should be a prerequisite, that they are willing. Stop reading this crap and enjoy with your partner. Seriously, stop reading now, I’m going to bed.

Wherever you may be, stay safe and make it a large one.

Saturday, 22 June 2013


That’s a very simple title for an exceptionally complex subject. Luckily I’m Irish so I’m fully qualified to wax lyrical on the subject of alcohol, especially beer. Some of you will disagree with what I say and that is your prerogative. However, it’s my blog, so shut the fuck up for the moment and read. Maybe a tune will help.

Snow Patrol – Just say yes
This is fucking music. Not really great music, a tune to fuck to. Wicked.

So, back to beer. Ireland is famous for Guinness. Probably because it’s black gold, wrapped in glass and it proves you are a man. The simple thing about beer is that nobody loves their first one. We graduate from being kids, drinking sugar water (Coke is still awesome, pair with a bacon sambo and there’s a high chance of shooting a load in your pants) to being (or trying to be!) adults drinking big boy drinks. They say Guinness is an acquired taste but the fact of the matter is alcohol is an acquired taste. Nobody enjoyed their first beer. They drank it to be a man/ be cool/ impress their friends/ or just fit in. Life is tough and your first tasty adult beverage is a milestone. Usually not a tasty one. The good news for any younglings reading this (STOP!, this is adult stuff) is that beer just gets better and better.

I’m speaking specifically about beer now because this is how most people graduate to booze. I will later address super big boy drinks, whiskey, vodka, gin and pint measures of those, but for the moment it’s all about beer.

Younglings, allow me to give you sage advice. In reality you will find almost nothing valuable in these pages, but heed these words. Alcohol isn’t about how much you can drink or who drinks the most. It’s about having a good time. I can’t stress this enough. When you’re puking your guts up in a cop shop nobody gives a fuck if you had the most booze. You might believe you have gigantic titanium balls (I thought that too) but walk into our bar and you will fall out the door carrying your balls and a badly bruised ego.

Leona Lewis – Run
I’m in a Snow Patrol mood. This is their tune but reimagined by Leona Lewis and it is stunningly beautiful.

Public health notice: Drink responsibly people. These are the rules:
Buy your round
Be polite, especially to the staff. If you are in a bad mood, fuck off home. Nobody loves an angry drunk.
Get drunk and enjoy the ether.

These are simple rules, follow them.
I wanted to write more and even had a general theme for this post, but I’ve managed to forget what the fuck I was thinking about and I’m getting thirsty. So, I will endeavour to write more often, safe in the knowledge that only four people read this shite (that includes me) and hope that my slightly drunken wisdom makes you smile and my choice of tunes opens your mind.

In the words of James T:
JTK: Mr Scott?
Scotty: Aye Captain?
JTK: The doors Mr Scott! (Jim Morrison would love this shit)

Please note this doesn’t translate well to the written word. I can’t remember which movie it’s in (I think it’s Star Trek 3: The Search for Spock) so watch all of them just to be sure. The worst case scenario is you will have more JTK in your life and that can only be a good thing.

So, it’s pub o’clock. I’m gonna head out and hope that today I eat the bar and it fails to eat me. I fear I’m delusional, but hope is eternal. I leave you with a tune that is a perfect warmer upper to a day at the pub.

Sonique – Feels so good
Volume motherfuckers! This requires lots of it. If this tune fails to make you horny you need to visit a hospital immediately.

Live long and prosper dudery chaps. And forget the title, this post really has fuck all to do with beer!

Sunday, 26 May 2013


I’ve been trying to write this blog for a couple of years and it is, in a word, hard. I find it difficult to be inspired sometimes even though life throws the best and worst excuses at me. I hang out with a group of people that, if we were focused, could easily be a circus, but in the pub are entertaining, funny, intelligent and ultimately, pissed. They provide plenty of reasons to write and lots of subject matter, but I still find it difficult.

Grace Jones – Storm
This was rejected as a Bond them tune, no idea why cause its fucking awesome. Really loud and don’t think of Grace ripping your dick/tits/other bits off. I love rock music but a huge orchestra beats the fuck outta anything. Horns, strings, big drum thingys, conductory man. I can’t think of anything sexier than a bird playing (well) a violin or a cello.
Last night is a prime example of what I mean. I had two friends telling me to write this shit and I was taking the easy way out. Doing my hair/nails/garden, things, busy stuff, other things, units, bits, busier bits, shite, stuff, world peace and a world record breaking solution to the Rubik’s cube. Faster even than the Lego machine with a phone. And that’s pretty fucking rapid. Anyway, these were my reasons (excuses) and I believed them even if nobody else did.

The amazing part was that a good friend then broke through the bollocks. Not mine, the general bollocks of the evening, and inspired me! Holy fucking strawberries Batman! There it was. A gem of an idea. Inspiration for my next blog post.

It was like a fat man standing in line at Mc Donald’s trying to be inconspicuous. Ie, it wasn’t. I was smiling, the light seemed to be brighter, minstrels were frolicking on the lawn (there isn’t a lawn, but it was that fucking good) the world in general was a happy place to be. I felt like I could stroll into Gaza and say “Alright Paul, let’s go and make the world a better place”. Side bar: Yankees, please moog, football, Gascoigne, mental as fuck, to provide background for this pun.

Anyway, back to the story. So there I was, punching in Da Beers (best name for a pub ever! Don’t steal it) and I was finally inspired. I had a subject, plenty of joking matter to add to it, even had a couple of choice tunes to round it out. It was fucking perfect.

To celebrate this I decided that beer wasn’t enough and I’d kick it up a notch. Not velvet hammer time, but a pint of vodka seemed appropriate, deserved even, and it tasted like nectar. Side bar: Not Yankee specific, open to all, but does anybody actually know what nectar tastes like? I know bees love it, but for all we know it tastes like week old yak shit. Just sayin.

So back to the spiel. There I was, punchin in the beverages, smoking my brains out (remember kids, it ain’t cool), chatting to beautiful women, listening to a wicked band, in a pub I love. Life was sweet. Like nectar I presume.

Vanessa Mae
See! I fuckin told ya chicks with violins rock. And I told you Vivaldi rocks. When you gonna listen to me. (I know I shouldn’t start a sentence with the word “and”, but if it really bugs you get a life and then go forth and multiply)
I would Stradivarius the living daylights outta her!

So I woke up this morning with a spring in my step. I was like “Yay, the world is good, I’m gonna write, and flowers are fuckin wicked”. Made some coffee (tasty shit) lit a smoke and sat down to write. Even the shitty r key wouldn’t stop me.

Unfortunately my brain stopped me. Specifically because I couldn’t remember the fucking inspiration! Doh! Like a big box of frogs, I had no fuckin clue what was going on. So you’ve just read all this shite to get to this part where I point out that it was all in folly. Cue South African accent (Joss Ackland): “Who is the dickhead now?”

So…… that’s basically it. I have no idea what I was supposed to write about, but I managed to write something. And (paying attention?) the tunes were wicked good.
I tried this time to include links to youtube so you could click and listen. No fucking clue if it’ll work, but we’ll know soon.

Final note. Why isn’t it called Moogtube?

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

To hench or not to hench

I’ve just thought about the greatest business opportunity ever! Strong words I know, but don’t worry I’m not looking for investment here. This is, without doubt, the single greatest idea in the history of business and my plan is to float it on an exchange ASAP and walk away with a gazillion. That’s a whole lot more than a billion, quite a bit more than a Brazilian, and a tad larger than an Argentinean. In short, it’s a shit load o’dough.

So,I hear you ask, what is this mind blowing, world changing idea? Well, its simplicity and audacity are the core values that will ensure its success. It is the world’s first and only university for henchmen!

Yup, you read that right. Henchman Uni! Now, ladies please don’t be upset, there will be places for ladies and we expect some of our greatest graduates to be of the fairer sex. However, the word is henchman, not henchwoman or even henchlady. This is the desired nomenclature, let’s not stand on ceremony or semantics here. If you hench well your gender is irrelevant. And that is exactly what we wish to promote.

Offspring - Self Esteem
What a bassline. It also seemed appropriate here!

I wanted to use a scientific approach, with graphs, charts and cold hard facts to explain the method behind my madness. However, I’m shit at science. My chemistry teacher dumped me because I’d be the first person ever to fail his class. This was not acceptable to him. Those of you that know me will understand that I only rely on science and logic in rare circumstances. Usually I use bullshit and gibberish, with a slight smattering of volume to make my point. When this fails (as it invariably does) I use more volume. Kinda like Americans. Probably too much TV when I was young

Side Note: Volume is the go-to tool of morons. When they are losing they raise their voice in the vain hope their argument will succeed based on who shouts loudest and not on facts. I am a moron. But I can shout very loud!

The marketing spiel will be something like this. © will be the singular place for those in the world that seek an exciting and fulfilling career being a slave to some over ego’d monkey clown with delusions of world domination. Those that wish to follow orders and never be their own master will delight in all that HenchUni © offers.

The core value of HU is to give henchers the ability to deal with that always annoying and never ending supply of Good Guy Hero Types (GGHT). From Bond…. James Bond to John Mc Clane, henchers have been embarrassed, humiliated, injured, laughed at, unlaid, poorly armed (actual guns and good script) and invariably in the end, deaded. Now is the time to seize your future.

HenchUni© is a name only (a good one, right?), it is not an actual university. It gives us credibility and also makes it difficult to sue us, while making you feel comfortable. HU courses are generally run over a 3-4 week rotation. We say “years” because it makes people feel better and after 3-4 “years” of training your imminent death, maiming or belittling doesn’t seem quite so humiliating and/or worthless.)

First year (or freshman year for you of the Yankee persuasion) will cover a variety of courses designed to give a solid foundation in basic henching. Those that qualify (survive) can continue their study in a wide variety of henctastic specialities afterwards.

Pete Townsend - Give Blood
Also seems appropriate and it's a wicked tune. Who? Exactly.

Year 1 includes some of the following courses:

Basic Shooting: Guns, what are they? How to hold a gun and aim it in the general direction of bad (good) guys.
Shooting at boxes, small animals and unidentified sounds. Repeatedly.

Knives: Differentiating between the pointy bit and the handle.
Slashing and stabbing.

Patrolling: Walking back and forth in a menacing way.
Looking: Why it’s important.

Year 2 includes:

Lines: (Oral) If you have a simple one, here’s how to get it right. (Physical) Don’t step on anything that looks like a line, it’ll probably kill you.

Sounds (interior & exterior): They are usually a precursor to death (invariably yours), do not investigate them.

Suits: Where can I get one that fits me? For ladies: Why is my costume so tight and/or impractical? Where will I hide my gun?

Psychology: Why is my boss such a mean person? When is a good time to offer a hug?

Years 3 & 4 offer more advanced techniques to ensure your survival until at least the third act and maybe even the finale. Gary Busey (Lethal Weapon), Darth Vader (Return of the Jedi) and Oddjob (Goldfinger) offer guest lectures to provide you with the in-depth knowledge of famous and revered henchers all of whom have reached the final ten minutes.

So, if you are a foreigner, or different in any way from what is considered normal, apply to HenchUni© today. People with strong, guttural accents are given preference, however, we can teach you how to speak in a strange way even if you speak perfect English. For those with no English skills a course is given in year one in Pidgin English just to make sure the bad (good) guy knows exactly what you’re saying and/or about to do.

Don’t delay, apply to HenchUni© today and increase your odds of surviving for at least seventy minutes.

Wednesday, 1 August 2012


If you’ve been reading this you’ll know I’m a huge Star Wars fan. Weirdly, I’m also a big Star Trek fan. Yes, I know it’s weird, I just said that. Get fucking used to it dummy, I’m weird. If you didn’t already know that you have issues. Weirdness = me. Good, now we’ve got that straight read on.


Nope, not the ring type, I’m talking proper shit here. StarTrek. Specifically Jean-Luc Picard and his well known catchphrase. He delivered it in a powerful, commanding and ultimately beautiful way. If you can’t remember it (why?) then tube it. “Engage”. It gives me a semi just thinking about it. JLP was a legend amongst men and when he spoke, fuckers listened.

Why? Well, besides the manly voice, Rykers beard, Dr. Crushers awesome gingerness and Geordie’s (Wi aye man) visor, it was because he was captain of the Enterprise. The universe feared this man because of the ship he ran. And rightly they should, it’s an awesome vessel that usually wins whatever shit it’s in. The crew are a United Nations style bunch of duders and dudettes that outfox, outclass, and in that all American way, out cheese the bad guys.

Icecube – You can do it
Originally with NWA, this guy has some wicked tunes. Can’t really act though.

But that’s all bollox. They fear JLP and his UN crew because they drive Jim’s car. (Side bar: Nobody is afraid of Jim Gordon, but put him in the Tumbler and bad guys shit their pants.) People fear the Next Gen guys because of The Gen, the ones that started it all. The following phrase should never be uttered within earshot of Klingons (Shakespeare is better in Klingon) or Romulans, it may well start an intergalactic war.

James Tiberius Kirk

The name gets extra space because it deserves it. While “Engage” gives me a semi, the name above gives me full wood. No, I’m not embarrassed about that. My mate Elvis recently posted a pic on FB of Jim topless and I lost my goo in a millicenton (I know it’s a different show, just keeping you on your toes).

Apparently the mission was “to boldly go where no man had gone before”, but Jim didn’t listen to that Starfleet shite. Jim went where other men had been before, specifically into their women (PIPE?) and didn’t give a fuck what Starfleet, the Klingons, Romulans, the past, the future, God, Q or any other cunt thought. Jimbo had 2 basic rules. If it tries to kill me, I’ll kill it. If it’s female, I’ll fuck it (especially if it’s an exotic colour, green or blue preferably).

So why is Jim so awesome? If you really are asking this question then you’re a monkey clown. Idiot, moron, dumbass. Choose any suitable put down because you should be. This is James T we’re talking about here. This man is so awesome other men fear his name alone. Women aren’t allowed to watch Star Trek movies for fear they will never again be attracted to the measly excuse for a human that bought their ticket. Galaxies fear this man.

I will now commit an offence that for some of you will be unforgivable, but this is my blog, so I’m gonna do it anyway. If JTK went to the Star Wars universe there would only have been one movie. The plot would be: kill sandmen, kill stormtroopers, find princess, fuck her, twice, destroy deathstar.

Who are the only people that can beat up Jimbo? Two guys in the whole universe. Spock (pointy eared bastard) and himself! Spock is cool. (Forget Leonard Nimoy’s Ballad of Bilbo Baggins. But tube it, it’s some seriously bad shit).  Spock is a cool dude and him and Jim are friends because Spock sorts out all the problems and Jim shags the chicks. It’s a partnership made in heaven (or Hollywood).

The amazing thing about Star Trek is the cultural impact it’s had. The first incarnation was only 3 seasons but it broke barriers that today we, as younglings, probably don’t really comprehend. It had the first interracial kiss ever broadcast on tv, when Kirk smooched Uhura. Apparently he didn’t get the memo about don’t screw the crew. Or maybe he did and just didn’t give a fuck.

Side bar: Why was Uhura black? Because William Shatner.

The original series spawned many offshoots, the Next Gen being the huge hit it was paved the way for DS9 and others. The movies have been numerous, ten plus, and apparently the curse of even and odd has been broken. For those of you that don’t know (heathens!) the odd numbered movies were shite and even numbered ones were good. 2: Wrath of Khan was considered the best, with 4 and 6 close behind. But the new one has changed things.

The new Star Trek is wicked. It’s changed perceptions of ST being a super nerdatron geek thingy, to being space based action with good characters. The new Kirk and spock were brilliantly cast and they’ve relaunched the franchise in a great way. Unusually in this one, Kirk only bangs one chick, but she’s green, so way to go Jim. Spock is dicking Uhura (super hot!) and Bones is still an annoying twat. I’m really looking forward to the next one.

Now some of you will be thinking, wait a minute, Picard was better than Kirk, but you’d be wrong. Picard was great in his own way, but he ain’t no JTK. You may wanna push the point but you’d still be wrong. I will forever end this with a simple fact. Jimbo never called Picard for help and Jean-Luc never traveled through time to help Jim. Why? Because Jim doesn’t need help. Ever.

Live long and prosper dudes and lock up your green chicks.

Tuesday, 24 July 2012


Apparently it’s the rainy season here in Thailand. Being Irish I naturally associate rain with cold, because in Ireland, even in Summer, when it rains it’s generally cold. But that isn’t the case here. It’s still properly hot most of the time. A serious rainfall will lower the temperature slightly but it soon returns to normal (just shy of the surface of the sun).

Jovanotti – Piove
It means “to rain” or “its raining”. I never knew that til I just Mooged it, I always liked the tune and felt it’s a happy one. If you speak Italian and tell me it’s about bad shit I will ruin your day for ruining this song for me.

I love the rain here because it reminds me of home. That might seem weird because I associate it with cold, but it’s the little things, good and bad, that shape our views on everything. Here when it rains I think of home but I ain’t cold. However, the downside is I can’t light a fire. There’s something special about Ireland on a cold, rainy, shitty day with a big fire going, good company and a fine beverage in hand.

While the weather outside is frightful, the fire is indeed delightful. I know this song is about snow but if you’ve ever experienced shitty Irish wet weather you’d welcome snow. I’ve been in -23C in Europe (where it’s dry) and it still wasn’t anywhere near as cold as Ireland. It doesn’t matter what you wear, a fuckin dry suit even, you will get wet and your bones will start to freeze.

The Doors – Riders on the Storm
If I need to sell you on this one you don’t deserve to live. Fuck off and die.

What impresses me about the rain in Asia is how powerful it is. Irish rain is relatively light, although there are downpours, but tropical rain has a fury to it. Probably because it’s regularly accompanied by God’s stadium rock show of thunder and lightning. I’m getting used to it now, but it’s still humbling when a lightning bolt strikes nearby and the sky is rent with electricity, especially at night.

Even without the light and sound show though, the rain here can bucket down with force. I recently considered hooking an amp up to my tv just to be able to hear the dialogue. I decided against it (laziness) cranked up the PS3, got the headset on and shot motherfuckers in the face. Therapy at it’s finest.

So what the fuck was this piece about I hear you ask? Well the simple answer is I’m sober and I usually can’t write much when I am. So I picked a random boring subject to see if I could. I have grown as a person through this small chapter. I realize I don’t curse anywhere near as much when I’m sober.

I also realized, on reflection, that maybe my pick of subject wasn’t random but a subconscious mirror of my mood. We often use weather analogies to describe our feelings, because everyone understands what we mean. This morning I woke early in somber mood and it felt like rain.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Has this dickhead finally lost his mind? In truth, it’s quite possible I have, plenty of people seem to think so. I don’t think I have, but then again, if I had, I wouldn’t. Right?

No, no. The profile says I’m a philosophizing shite talker and this piece is absolutely true to that. The rain may still be there (metaphorically) but like Gene Kelly, I’m singin in it and I hope you are too.

Saturday, 16 June 2012

The past & the future

Things I learned on my recent trip.

  1. No matter how good life is, what you have accomplished or the current state of flux in the universe, your parents can still drive you from a 1 (perfect state of relaxtion / at peace with the world / all good in da hood / one with the force) to a 10 (Hitler / FUCK EVERYTHING) in less than a nano second. It’s usually an off the cuff remark that isn’t meant to drive you bonkers but somehow it still does.

Eg. I cooked my Dad a fry (to those of you that don’t know what this is: I don’t know why you’re here. Fuck off and find out, it’ll actually change your life. Those that know: a proper fry, it was awesome). Anyway, I asked him did he like the sausages (they were a new brand and pretty fuckin tasty in everyone else’s opinion) and his response was “They’re big”.

I understand you might be thinking, holy shit dude you’re getting all pissed off because over sausages. If you think this you are wrong. Sausages are important. Made of pigs aresholes and elbows they manage to take the truly shite (literally) and turn it into an orgasmatronic feast for the soul. Sausages are magic (I’ll tell you about my magic friend in a later post).

The point is, he could have just said Yes. But in a way only a parent can he made it an issue. When it comes to sausages bigger is better. He should have said “Holy fuck son, these are the best sausages I’ve ever had” but he didn’t. Side bar: He doesn’t say fuck. Never has and never will. It just sounds better that way and that’s how I’d say it. Secondly, you may believe I have issues with my Dad. I do, small ones. We all do, so let’s not get into that shit right now. That’s a book to be written, this is a blog).

Casino Royale (NOT the new one) – Herb Alpert
I told you before I like some weird shit and this is one of them. Don’t judge me, or Herb, he’s been beatin fanny away with his trumpet for about…. 77 fuckin years! Go Herb.

  1. Renewable energy has been a major topic for years and will continue to be. Wind turbines, hydro electric dams and solar farms are all great ideas. (took me 4 goes to spell turbines right. Shoulda just right clicked it). These are the way of the future because fossil fuels are fucking up our world. Digging them up and burning them just isn’t a good long term plan. I agree totally.

However, the fundamental thinking behind a viable solution is flawed. All of the above are great but really expensive. The corporates don’t want a workable solution because that’d kill their bonuses (don’t get me wrong, I’m a capitalist through and through, but it’s always nice to throw a jab at some of these pricks).

I’ve known rivers - Courtney Pine (the remixed one)
Herb got me onto a vibe. I’m not a huge jazz fan (except Ron Burgundy’s jazz flute) but this guy is a wizard. I bought this album by accident and loved it.

Anyway, the future of power is simple. My mate (Frodo or Bilbo, can’t remember now and too lazy to look it up) has a son that makes nuclear power look absolutely pussy tastic. Compared to this almost 2 year old a H bomb is like a fart in a hurricane. This kid (a very cool kid by the way) killed 72 energizer bunnies over the weekend. While he was sleeping!.

So the future energy requirements of Earth can easily be taken care of by kids. How? I hear you ask. Simple really. From 2-3 years of age they are attached (harnessed or shackled maybe) to a system that absorbs their energy, stimulates their mind and wandering limbs without allowing them to wreck anything.

Now don’t get on your high horse here (I have a gun, it’s a Colt .65 Horse Destroyer) this is a great solution and everybody wins. Think about it.

You already feed this machine and pay to do so. You can choose not to, but that’s called abuse so you feed it. There is no extra cost, you already pay this.

The energy source is unlimited. Fact.

The money saved can buy stimulating toys to help develop your child’s mind and physical abilities. Or beer.
The pollution is already there but it’s biodegradable. You are now a green person or as Clarkson calls them, an ecomentalist. Instead of throwing it in the bin wrapped in a Pampers you could grow a great garden. I’d steer clear of a vegetable patch for many, many reasons.

The more kids you have the more power you have. Sell it back to the grid and make money.

Firework - Katy Perry
I don’t care what you think. Make it loud and you’ll smile.

Solo just lick attacked me. Don’t get weird, he’s my dog (you’d know that if you’ve been here from the start!).

There are other many reasons but I’m too lazy and beginning to sober up. The best part is “Hey baby, wanna make a PowerStation”. That’s almost as good a chat up line as………