Religion

Religion, in many ways, is like a penis, its ok if you have one and it’s ok to be proud of it, however it is not ok to tell everybody about it and it is definitely wrong to try and force it down peoples’ throats. 

Religion is the single biggest reason for division in the world and at times it appears that it would be simpler if everyone followed the same one, or alternatively if religion didn’t exist at all.  The vast majority of people in the world are secure enough in their own faith to not have to force it upon others but there are people out there who are so insecure that they feel they have to do whatever is necessary to get others onside.  They must think that if they are wrong, and they have indeed chosen the wrong God that that having a huge amount of recruits around them will soften the blow when God strikes down vengefully on non-believers.  Most of us wouldn’t dream of waging war upon others based upon which God(s) they worship.
The topic of faith rarely occurs in day-to-day conversation, it is somewhat taboo and causes people to address the issue in hushed tones, afraid of what others might say or if their words might cause the Muslim in the corner to detonate himself or the atheist mother to cover her child’s ears for fear that he might be poisoned by the mere notion of faith.

Let me set an example of when religion is used as a weapon that is a little closer to home than the middle-east.  The Old Firm derby is the pinnacle of the Scottish football calendar and features the only two professional football teams north of the border, Celtic and Rangers.  Celtic has a notoriously Roman Catholic fan base whereas Rangers’ supporters are from a Protestant background.  Up to 18 times a year this fixture takes place and the city of Glasgow is quite literally turned half green and white hoops and the other half a sea of blue; the dividing line is a luminous yellow colour as the police, armed with shields and batons attempt to control the rabid swarms of Glaswegians.  For the duration of the Scottish football calendar, and Old Firm fixtures especially, fans of both clubs will hurl anti-Semitic abuse at one another and swear their allegiance to their respective denominations in a show of pride and togetherness.  This rivalry and religious segregation is however mysteriously put on hold when the Scottish and English national football teams meet, when Scots as a whole focus their attention on hating the English. 

When all is said and done, there are more important things to judge a person on than their creed.  Religious tension is rife in our world, it dominates the news and strikes fear through communities the world over and what's the point? Without meaning to sound too dark, we're all going to end up in the same place eventually! As my mum always said, if you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.  

Here's a little video from the Hilarious Tim Minchin and his unerring view on Religion, its called 'A ten foot cock and a few hundred virgins' so it's worth a watch! Enjoy! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PpAeNZNd9IE 

Twitter

I’ve covered Facebook so I thought I may as well cover twitter within the same week.  This does not mean however that I am in anyway technologically savvy; in my family my brother is the one blessed with that particular skill set, on countless occasions he has sat exasperatedly walking me through the basic elements of computers like a man trying to teach Hebrew to a rock.  Invariably the tuition concludes with: ‘and that’s how you turn it on’, or something in the same ilk.  Typing and posting this blog amounts to the extent of my computer know-how, I’ll leave the rest to the experts. 

Twitter, whilst once deemed exclusive to celebrity culture has, in more recent times become a way for those of us of considerably lower stature to stalk our favourite celebs and launch scathing attacks on the ones we’re not too fond of.  As with Facebook a persons’ virtual popularity can be gauged on Twitter as well, however instead of calling them friends they are called followers, adding a sense of pretentiousness to proceedings.  It amazes me how individuals such as Wayne Rooney can amass such an outrageous amount of followers, yes granted, he is highly gifted in his chosen field but he is also the epitome of a dullard, surely someone of such wealth and celebrity would have more interesting and insightful things to tweet about than his current crop of monotonous drivel.  I can’t help but think we all would have been left a lot more entertained if he had been tweeting throughout the whole prostitute scandal.  
The art of voyeurism has been around for centuries, some of the world’s most famous personalities have been ‘voyeured’, Marylin Monroe for example was forever pulling her curtains closed as desperate middle aged men lurked in bushes and rummaged through bins clutching a copy of ‘Maps to Movie Stars Homes’ in a bid to gain a sexually gratifying insight into the life of the original blonde bombshell.  With the introduction of Twitter this ancient art is dying out.  There is no need to find a vantage point from a tree when you can follow the movements of your favourite celebrity on your smartphone from the comfort of your own home.

Twitter introduces Carter to Jones

As well as making the life of the scopophiliac easier and giving us a near enough anonymous outlet for our distain on certain members of the celebrity fraternity Twitter serves more conventional and productive purposes for those who require them.  Manchester based entrepreneur David Carter is a prime example of how to use Twitter as both a social and business tool as he utilises the networking site as a platform to promote and advertise his company.  David has a twitter following in excess of 8000 which eclipses my 70 something followers by some distance; needless to say, this following reflects his success to this date, made all the more impressive by the fact that he is still a teenager.  His large army of ‘tweeps’ makes him an attractive prospect to the media; he is regularly approached by the press, television and radio wanting to find out more about his business.  If this doesn’t convince you about the power of Twitter then maybe this will.  Carter has recently been rubbing shoulders with none other than Peter Jones of Dragon’s Den fame after the 45 year old entrepreneur took an interest in David having ‘re-tweeted’ one of his tweets.  
The virtual world is fast becoming the best and most effective way to promote and advertise and is, in the case of David Carter at least, a sure fire way to catapult yourself up through the echelons of the business world
To add to David’s throngs of followers and check out what he and his business are up to click here .https://twitter.com/#!/_david_carter no binoculars required. Enjoy.

Sport

Some love it and some hate it, but there is no getting away from it, Sport is everywhere.  2012 will be especially painful for non-sports fans with the European Football Championships taking place in which England are hotly tipped to be dumped out in a penalty shoot-out against Portugal and the Olympic games coming to London in what promises to be the least successful games in British sporting history. 

The national sport is Football, it graces our screens almost every day and therefore it is no surprise that every little boy wants to be a footballer; the next Beckham or Rooney.  Instead of keeping their children grounded at a young age, it is often the case that parents, fathers in particular, will live vicariously through their son's fledging careers, force feeding them Red Bull and Pasta, pre-match, before proceeding to scream at them from the touchline for the duration of the game and then finally imparting their wisdom in an Alan Hansen-esque analysis of his sides diabolical defending and his own inability to hold the shape in a diamond midfield in the car journey home.  With all this to put up with it is a shock to me that Football is still the most popular sport amongst youngsters in the UK.  Perhaps the physical abuse, inevitable in a sport such as Rugby or Boxing, is considered less damaging by parents than the crippling emotional and psychological harm they will suffer on a football pitch.

Cricket is a sport of Gentlemen, of handshakes and sportsmanship.  It is also perhaps the most boring game I have ever had the misfortune of playing.  I can't imagine standing in a field for hours on end, waiting for a bloke with a plank of wood to hit an exceptionally hard ball in your direction at speeds of up to and beyond 100 miles an hour, is many people's idea of a well spent summer afternoon.  It’s expensive too; a mortgage is required in order to buy all of the equipment needed to ensure you still have your fingers, limbs and fertility at the end of a game.  

P.E in schools is, for most of us, our first exposure to sport as individuals.  We learn the basics with regards to being able to move without falling over and the importance of remembering (or forgetting) your kit!  As we progress through the school system, for those less willing the onus shifts from learning about a healthy lifestyle and participating in a variety of sports, to avoiding being caught having a crafty fag whilst the rest of your class does cross-country or learning how to successfully act out a pulled hamstring to Academy Award winning standard so you don't have to hurl yourself into a sandpit in preparation for sports-day.

The role models young people in this country have to look up to are of questionable moral fibre to say the least.  Who could forget Freddie Flintoff's infamous drunken excursion on a Pedalo, Wayne Rooney's prostitute scandal or Mike Tyson trying to chew Evander Holyfield's ear off in a bout watched by millions.  However if these are the role models children are following these days then we can surely expect the next generation of Sports stars to be entertaining if nothing else. 

Let’s end with something a bit more light hearted than alcoholism, prostitution and cannibalism shall we?  Here's a kid getting hit in the face with a football. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQlgA68z_L4 . Never gets old. Enjoy.

Being a Teenager

We've all been there, we can all relate to the pain of being a teenager and all that it encompasses. It’s a time in our lives when no two days are the same, the monotony of adult life is yet to set in and joy and despair occur in equal measure.  Having turned twenty only a few months ago, I feel that I am now in a position to look back on my teenage years like a war veteran recalling tales of the trenches to his grandchildren, and embrace the angst, the joy and the lessons learned in those seven years.  I apologise in advance for any offence caused by some of the lewd and crass terms I am about to use in this blog, there are literally no technical terms for them!

At the age of 13 one word that suddenly takes prominence in one's vocabulary (for males at least) is ‘fingering’.  At this age to 'finger' someone is the holy grail, the be all and end all, the ultimate achievement.  If you managed to perform this most romantic of acts upon a female then you were considered a hero, a protagonist for change and a socially superior life form.  I can recall the day one of my close friends became the first in our year group to 'finger' a girl.  We sat around him staring up at him as if he were some sort of Demi-God and listened as he re-lived each and every second of his profound experience.  He imparted wisdom on technique, held fort for a short Q&A before being carried out on the shoulders of his classmates with the school brass band playing, 'For he's a Jolly Good Fellow', in hot pursuit.  Along with sexual conquests the teen years are prime time for rebellion, anyone who says they didn't rebel in some way, shape or form as a teenager is a liar.  Be it something as small as taking up smoking or the consumption of cheap cider on a Friday night or indeed something slightly less trivial.  Murder, for example.  I recall, after one particular argument with my folks going through a period of what can only be described as solitary confinement.  I received three less-than-nutritional meals a day, delivered through a small flap in my bedroom door, now reinforced with iron.  My only contact with the outside world being a rudimentary cup and string telephone system which I was only permitted to use when I required release for a toilet break.  I forget what the argument was over. 

18 is the main landmark in the Teen years, followed by 16 (the age at which fingering is no longer acceptable as a sexual conquest), and marks a sense of freedom, in that it becomes a lot easier and in some ways a lot less fun to get drunk; there is nothing quite like the thrill of climbing into a bar through the bathroom window as opposed to the more conventional front door method.  Once 18 has passed and you are faced with dwindling funds to flaunt your new found freedom, the reality kicks in that at some stage in the not too distant future, you will have to grow up and face at least some degree of responsibility.  Before you know it you're no longer a teenager, you hit twenty, as I have and have to start blogging for some sense of recognition.

Here is a link that relates to this blog, however if you were offended by the 'fingering' aspect, don't click it. .http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSRhhVkTilY .  Keep Reading.

The Jeremy Kyle Show

Dignity is one thing that no man can take away from another, that can only be lost through great effort or an episode of spectacular moral insufficiency.  Appearing on the Jeremy Kyle Show is atop the list when it comes to ways of losing your dignity.  In the space of an hour any scrap of integrity that the guests who appear on this show may have had prior to sinking into those infamous purple chairs, vanishes under studio lights to a chorus of boos and cackles from the baiting audience.  The man responsible for this sideshow is one Jeremy Kyle.  Pretentious, arrogant and delusional Mr. Kyle seems to believe that the hordes of people who turn up to sit in the live audience are there to watch him strut around with his microphone and questionable centre parting.  The fact is however that there are far many TV personalities that would be more appropriate to present such a show.  Jeremy Kyle is not even the best 'Jeremy' to for the job.  Who reading this can honestly say that they wouldn't prefer to see Jeremy Clarkson stride onto the stage with his oversized legs and bald patch with a big stick and start poking the unfortunate creatures who crawl in from the wings and unleash a tirade of abuse in the direction of their estranged lover/mother-in-law/abusive step-father.  I'm sure Mr Clarkson himself would enjoy a break from test driving cars that he has to fold himself into to impart some wisdom upon these toothless individuals.  The Jeremy Kyle Show is a portrayal of what was left behind from the evolutionary process, those who appear on it are essentially the evolutionary equivalent to those popcorn kernels that don't pop, useless yet often hard...and yellow.  Unquestionably it is compelling viewing, one look at a tag line like, 'I wasn't cheating on you in the toilets, I was doing cocaine' or 'My daughter has been a prostitute since the age of 13' will capture the attentions of most of us instantaneously.  The bottom line is we are watching so that for an hour and a half in the morning we can feel better about our own lives by basking in the glow of misery exuding from the people on our screens.  Even the heart-warming stories turn into horror stories; it was all fun and laughter when Billy appeared on the show to be reunited with his biological father, but we weren't smiling when just weeks later he reappeared looking dishevelled and unwashed after his dad had sold him for heroin.  The entertainment value of this programme is second to none and for many of us it is our guilty pleasure, and why? For moments like this.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_pDwsCEpI8  Enjoy!

Facebook

There is no doubt in my mind or the mind of most people who have a profile that Facebook is addictive.  Mark Zuckerberg has created the ultimate distraction, the social phenomenon of Facebook has claimed countless victims, causing them to fail exams, lose jobs and just generally make fools of themselves.  I would be lying if I myself claimed not to be one of those victims but the fact is most of us are; we sit in front of our computer screens putting off considerably more important and pressing tasks in favour of searching through pictures of people we once knew hoping to stumble across one of them at their worst.  There is no doubt that Facebook serves a purpose, arguably the most effective being the 'Relationship Status', this has saved single men countless hours of leg work; gone are the days a bloke would unleash his best chat up lines on a girl in a three day text tirade only to be hit with the words 'I have a boyfriend'.  Other services this networking tool provides include the 'Create an Event' application; it has never been so easy to assemble a large group of people together at a certain time in a particular place to take a break from stalking ex's in order to fill themselves up with a selection of strong ciders.  I am not slagging off Facebook, nor the people that use it, there is a certain stigma attached; if you don't have a Facebook Profile you are considered socially inept and incapable of communicating with the rest of society.  Somebody I know did the unthinkable recently and deleted their Profile.  At first I couldn't understand the decision, why would someone disassociate themselves with this invaluable social resource?  I had visions of them being cast back through the ages; surely the next natural step after deleting your Facebook Profile is to move into a cave, bang two stones together to make a fire and ultimately begin communicating in a series of grunts.  The more I thought about it however, the more I began to understand it and in the end I admired their decision.  Imagine how much more we could get done without Facebook,  the wheels of evolution have stopped turning since it's introduction into mainstream society because instead of curing cancer or finding ways to put a man on Mars scientists are 'Checking in at the Lab' and then proceeding to spend the whole day watering their crops on Farmville.  We may have access to more private information about the people around us but in my view we have become less social as a race since Facebook.  I have this image of what would happen if we just took Facebook away, people wouldn't have anything to talk about, we'd just approach our friends, open our mouths to speak, shrug and just walk on.  The most ironic thing about this blog is that I will no doubt post it on my Facebook page for people to read. Ah, the power of Networking.

Million Pound Drop Live.

Before tonight I never knew tension, I thought I did, having gone through numerous important exams and  sporting finals.  However, no occasion I have ever experienced, no feeling of nervousness I have ever been through could have prepared me for what I went through tonight.  As I sat in front of my laptop screen playing along, the feeling of parting with my imaginary million pounds was like, I would imagine, the feeling a frost-bite victim goes through when he has to decide to part with several of his toes.  In short, it was tough.  And what makes matters worse is Davina McCall, her shrieking hysterics do nothing to calm one's nerves.  I soldiered on nevertheless.  My girlfriend playing alongside me via Skype was a helpful addition to proceedings (she knew that Jedward had once had an audience with Barack Obama) and I feel that we bonded over the whole process.  It turns out you need a specific set of attributes to perform well in this particular game and excitableness is not one of them, nor is a temper; one quickly followed the other as I lost my initial million pounds on a question about Andy Murray: it turns out the irrepressible and charismatic Scot progressed furthest in the French Open in 2011 rather than the the US.  I bet even he didn't know the answer to that; when all you experience is disappointment I'd imagine it all rolls into one miserable blur.  Anyway, I digress, back to the game.  I got into the swing of things pretty quickly and got over my attachment to my imaginary potential fortune somewhat and realised that one of the attributes you do require in this game is the ability to be bold and trust your instincts (its not real money after all).  I progressed well but hit a stumbling block when faced with a question about the A Team which is well before my time, so much so that I don't even have the motivation to do the leg work to find out what decade it graced.  In the face of adversity I recalled a lesson I'm sure I was taught by a wise man at some point in my life 'When in doubt, go for B A Baracus'.  I did and it paid off.  Emma (my girlfriend) went for Dirk Benedict. Schoolboy error.  After an hour and a half of nothing but tension and frayed nerves I came out with a mythical fortune of £250,000 which I now intend on using to not pay off  my student loan or go on holiday.  It is testament to my social life that this was the most fun I've had on a Friday night for some time.  Get involved and you too could win a fictitious fortune!