Wednesday, 6 March 2013

Topical? Neigh...

Horse meat. Now there's a topic I can get my teeth into. ***Pun alert, pun alert, the word 'Horse' will be censored for your own safety***. Certainly not a task I'll balk at. No sir-ee, some would choose not to flog such a freshly dead CHEESE, certainly would be in bad taste, yet I am not one such to get on my own high CHEESE. Straight from the CHEESE's mouth dear folks, I will most certainly address this most contentious of issues, deaf to the cries that I'm closing the gate on the matter after the CHEESE has bolted.

To begin with, I must attest that I am well aware of the seething hatred that this issue has roused within the general public, I mean, who couldn't help but notice the mass Tesco bans, the burger burning (that might just be my cooking) and the general outcry? Wait. None of that happened now did it? Could this be another occurrence of media disproportion? Surely not. That great champion of public morality would never incite baseless hysteria, would it now? Well, perhaps my thinly veiled sarcasm is not completely apt in this circumstance, it would appear that numerous cases of dodgy horse from across the EU has entered the food chain, so a moderate level of hysteria might be warranted. But in all honesty, if growing up on the mean streets of London has taught me anything, you'd be lucky to know whether your meat came from something with 4 legs, let alone the species. When you've eaten a kebab at 2 am completely rat-arsed, you loose all complaining privileges.

I'd pay good money to eat a horse. Hell, I'd pay good money to know that the meat I'm eating is from a creature that I couldn't beat in a fist fight, makes me feel mentally adequate for once. You might not  like to admit it, but more likely than not, you've probably ingested all sorts of unique meats. There's more meat in a banana than in some of those godawful things they try to pass off as pork products. Don't even get me started on chicken; two words, reconstituted meat. So yeah, a little veterinary medication in the food chain never hurt anyone and look on the bright side, it turns out we exported most of our poisoned meat to the french! That's gotta count for something.

Joke to show just how late to the game I am

Q. Why was the calander anxious?
A. Its days were numbered

Friday, 18 January 2013

New year, new problems

Angst. I once thought the limitless wells of first world angst that filled my veins would be the steam that powers this ramshackle vehicle of poorly thought out ideas. Turns out,  I was wrong. Yet, it would seem that I was not content to  leave things there, because as you may have noticed, I had dragged a willing accomplice into this chaos before jumping ship myself. Now that, my dear and valued reader, is what is known as a poorly thought out idea. So, I've decided to try and write again when I can, I might not have the anger resources of a disgruntled gerbil anymore but I can damn sure dredge up enough bile to suckle you numskulls.

Lots of big changes been occurring since I last checked in, namely that I've begun life at university and that I am now the proud owner of the supervisor title at work. Lucky me. Now, either thing in isolation would be a cause for celebration, it is not every day you shimmy up the greasy pole, nor is it a regular thing to have a vague success in the realm of academia. No, my problem does not lie with the what, I'm concerned with the damnable when. Every single time, every single thing I do in life, something has to sour an otherwise sweet situation. My current schedule essentially reads the same thing every day: best wake up ridiculously early or you're fucked. I'm not talking Monday-Friday kind of fucked, I'm talking full blow, 12 hour shifts Saturday/Sunday sort of fucked. It would appear that the universe conspires against the sweet sweet partnership of me and sleep once again.

University is proving to be a fun old jaunt too, met a bunch of lovely people, some not so lovely, and some you just want to bludgeon with a rusty spoon. Besides, the course itself has been a doddle thus far, except for the fact that due to my time constraints (totally not because I'm a lazy bastard with a tendency to procrastinate), I've made no notes whatsoever. What could possibly go wrong, eh?

You'll settle for a pun and you'll like it

The smallest pun I know - Dwarf Shortage