I didn't quite catch that...

I have to say, getting your finger caught in a door is always more painful than it has any right to be.

So now I have a very black fingernail on one side, and a deep cut on the other. And typing is very difficult. Which is never good.

It would appear to be a bit wet here at the minute. Consider this: there’s a wee stream that flows down the side of my house. Normally about 4-6 inches deep. This is what it looks like at the minute:

This was taken from a bridge just past the bottom of my garden. This bridge is basicially a path over a four foot diameter pipe that takes the stream. This pipe is usually carrying about 2 inches of water. At the minute, the top of the pipe is a foot underwater. So the stream is now about five foot deeper than it should be. And about 15 foot from my foundations. I hope they were put in right…

I’m thinking that I should go ask the scouts next door if they’d mind lending me a canoe for a while. This looks like fun. Dangerous, stupid fun, but fun nonetheless.

… does that make you his bitch?

Finding out election gossip is always interesting. Especially when you find out someone does a deal with their main rival over their own party.

Fortunately, the devil thug in question didn’t get in, but the bitch did. At the expense of someone else in his party. That, people, is why democracy only ends up with the people who are unfit to lead in positions of leadership.

There are a couple of notable exceptions, but it is a general rule

When people get bored of political stalemate, why do they always vote for the extremes? I suspect that the moderate politicans (I use the term with reservations) here are a tad worried.

Not been a good week for me so far. Or for my country, for that matter.

A statistic, a fact, a pub burned down,
In the Co Antrim village of Randalstown.
These were the headlines in paper and news,
Leaving many people with different views.

Was it them or us or just done for a lark,
Or faulty electrics that ignited a spark?
The Black Bull for many was a way of life,
Holding together through our years of strife.

My memories of the Bull are long and fond,
And to distant days I oft abscond,
With a bottle of Guinness, a cigarette,
A game of darts for a sixpenny bet.

Celebrating a birthday, a night with no end,
Drowning our sorrows, farewell to a friend.
A quiet drink below the stairs,
Chatting away our worries and cares.

If no-one was in you could turn back the clock,
And those drab old walls would whisper and talk.
Whether one sort or another or from near or far,
Harmony and friendship could be found at the bar.

When fireman left that old black shell,
A million memories went as well.
But the old pub had a warm beating heart,
Lets hope for the future that it doesn’t depart.

David Burrowes

Sums up that attitude, really. But that’s what you get for having an election on a cold, wet, November day when the big sports teams are playing. (Speaking of which, go United!). Most people seem to think that the turnout will be well below the traditional NI turnouts. Above the usual UK turnout, but low by our standards.

Today, I exercised my democratic responsibilty. Which was a waste of ten minutes of my time, probably, but hey, it cost nothing. And it might be useful.

Also voted in Warwick’s Student Union elections. They really should have a more secure portal. Mwhahahaha!

Yes, I am a bit bored. And pissed off at failing the bike test. Your point?

Interesting. Emergency stop in the rain: should the rear wheel overtake the front wheel? No? That would be a fail then.

Bugger, bugger, bugger.

Two interviews today:

• one that I though went quite well, but was for a job I’m not fussed on and only lasts until Christmas. Keeps the wolves from the door and all, but still, glorified data entry is never fun. And by ‘glorified’ I mean you get a nice office;
• the second also went quite well, but was against a huge field. Two days of 15 minute interviews for a grade 4 post in Lurgan. I’m guessing that that means that I ain’t going to get it. Pity, the job looked quite interesting, and was for a minimum six months, which would probably please the bank manager enough for him to eventually give me that graduate account.

Did I ever mention that I like interviews? No? Must have forgotten. Oh well.

And I have a nice, calm day planned for tomorrow. A driving test on election day. I won’t be able to move for canvassers. Bollocks.

Oh, yes, and an election, which may or may not reap huge rewards for NIreland. OR, and this is the more likley, it will make no difference. But hey, it’s wasting millions of London’s pounds, which is always going to make us popular.

Woke up this morning, then went back to sleep.

A truly wonderful feeling, I tell you. Back to early start for interviews et al tomorrow, but it was nice today.

Driving along the Saintfield Road this afternoon, I saw something I liked.

Now, the Saintfield Road is one of the arterial routes into Belfast. And, what with that being the case, the council have worked their magic on it: a mile or two before you reach the city, they smack a 40- then 30- limit, on a nice, straight, wide road. A road where all possible crossing points have pelican lights or pedestrian bridges. And, what with trends being what they are, the PSNI have put a camera up, at a highly innapropriate point (under a pedestrian bridge. I mean, what the fuck? Are they worried a car will be going fast enough to create a sonic boom, thereby shaking the bridge?). This was not something I liked. But, going past it on the way out, I noticed a certain pinkness to the side of the camera, and decided to have a proper look at it on the way back.

And so I did. And some kind soul had covered the lens with pink spray on paint. I like. It’s tasteful, suited to the surroundings and will piss off traffic branch. I like.

Incidentially, Top Gear raised an interesting point yesterday: in the UK, you are required by law to surrender information on the driver if your vehicle is caught by a speed camera. However, EU law states that you do not have to surrender any information and that this cannot be held against you. As Clarkson said, you can be in the EU and lose the Queen’s head on your money, or not in the EU and lose all your money.

Win-win, me thinks. Except that I wouldn’t trust the EU with pocket change, what with their track record. Maybe a ompromise can be worked out…

Apparently, I’m a nerd! Or so says my score in this survey. 134. I like. Fair enough, most of the questions were simple: do you have a firewall? Can you burn a CD? But I’ll take it…

Congrats to England on their win. Just one thing: stop with the 1966 references. I woke up this morning to hear the radio pumping out Swing Low mixed in with the commentary from the last minute or so of both world cup finals. And it’s really annoying. Yes, first country to win both world cups. Fair enough, there were near forty years between them, but hey, congrats.

Just stop with it, please.

Incidentially, Ireland did win something. Or should have: looking at all the singers, Ireland had the fittest young lady. Young girl called Colleen Shannon. Can’t find a picture, but she was the best looking out of the lot of them.

So thats a consolation then.

Does anyone remember in 1984 where there was compulsary exercise, for everyone? No? Oh well then. This won’t start alarm bells, then.

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Can’t see it catching on. But then, I assume that everyone is as lazy as me…

This charming fellow is standing in my area. Oh what fun. Unionism can be represented by a convicted bomber or a man who keeps walking out on his party cos it doesn’t act extreme enough for him. Hmmm.

Three simple words, guaranteed to bring a smile to my face: Income Tax Rebate. I like.

Of course, three simple words that will piss me off: Early Saturday Morning. SO I’m away off to lead a days training. Oh what fun.

On the plus side, I’ve got two job interviews next week, along with a driving test, a little old election to vote in, and ancillary stuff (such as sleeping).

Well, tomorrow is the last day of my contract. Letters of condolence, containing money if possible, will be accepted with good grace.

But anyway, tomorrow is my last day. It is also, through no design of my own, the exact time that I will have completed the task given to me (if there hadn’t been a supply mix up, I’d have finished a fortnight ago and would have been paid to sit at home for the last two weeks. Grrr.), and that is good, ‘cos I’d have hated to leave it all undone.

I wonder if it would be bad form to sit in the canteen drinking Stella as soon as I’ve finished the job (but not before I sign out)? Any opinions on that?

And I won’t accept any suggestions that are primarily concerned with online gambling. Why I’ve started being spammed by these gimps is beyond me. Can anyone inform me how to (a) find their IP address and (b) ban said IP addresses? They’re not actually visiting my main page, so I can’t grab their IP that way, which is annoying.

Newsflash! Grown men (and, allegedly, a woman, although the genetic tests were inconclusive) throwning rattles out of the pram in public!

Well, that’s the summary. The long version is here. Northern Ireland politics: putting professional comedians on the dole queue, at regular intervals.

I’m sure you’ll agree with me: old people should not try to get down with the yoof. No using the lyrics of songs, no quoting from TV shows, etc. Just don’t do it. It just makes you look like a fool.

For example, I got a piece of mail from the Alliance party this morning. Which read:

mix master
no tuition fees

---

dj smash bigotry       mc good times

And so on. With a photo of the current leader of the Alliance:

Would that work for you? No? What a shocker, there.

Sillyness. It’s all around us, it binds the galaxy together.

Someone seems to have hacked Blogrolling. All of the links on it appear to have become links to something called Laura’s blog. Which is annoying. Clever on their part, but annoying. Now I have to go and try to remember all of those links. Poo.