That fucking Frosties TV advert, it’s driving me insane! It has to be the most annoying, cringe worthy piece of shit I have ever seen on television.

Stupid, smug kid gets out of bed, prances all over the place singing about how great Frosties taste being eaten off a plate while on a date with a mate on a crate while you masturbate. A load of nonsense. Who the fuck eats Frosties off a plate anyway, the milk would just spill all over the floor.

There is something about the whole setup of the advert which just annoys the hell out of me. I just want that kid to fall flat on his stupid face and shut the hell up.

Some people on the internet are claiming he has actually killed himself after excessive bullying following the advertisement (I think this has actually now been disproved).

While I can see where the bullies are coming from, perhaps death is a little harsh. Maybe just lock him in a room with a James Blunt record playing on loop and force him to eat 500 boxes of Frosties (off a plate).

If you haven’t actually seen the advert, some being who practices in the art of modern day torture has uploaded it to YouTube.

Yesterday evening Mr. Watkins and Simon came round for a session of GoldenEye. It was intense. Watkins romped his way to victory and won all but one of the games, laughing, screeching and farting his way through the night. He really is a dirty little bastard.

We compiled an excellent musical soundtrack to accompany game play. The excellent Club Foot by Kasabian got the blood boiling and caused great aggravation. Then there was the 90s classic Rhythm Is a Dancer by Snap! The lyrics being re-worked by myself to “Watkins is a wanker, he’s a source of anger”.

Like most GoldenEye sessions it was noisy, mainly due to victory shrieks from Watkins. I did feel a little sorry for one of my flatmates in the next room. She was throwing a dinner party and her guests must have thought I was looking after some kind of wild animal.

After GoldenEye we had another go at GARY LINEKER’S FOOTBALL CHALLENGE. Last week we realised that the two player game was seriously flawed so decided to work together in the single player option.

According to Mr. Lineker, 20 questions must be answered to win the game. If you get 1 answer wrong you get a yellow card, get 2 wrong and get a red and its game over. Turns out, due to yet another software glitch you get a straight red after getting just 1 question incorrect.

We resorted to cheating using Google. That didn’t help much. The questions on the DVD are inaccurate. For example “In 2004, Paul Robinson made his England debut against which team?”. He made his debut in 2003… for God’s sake Gary, sort it out!

Some of the questions were just so obscure, who the hell knows the greatest goal average in any World Cup? I don’t know what other questions are contained on the DVD, maybe next time we we’ll be asked to name Michael Owen’s first childhood pet and Rio Ferdinand’s mother’s maiden name.

Moving on… I went shopping at my local grocery store, Coopers this afternoon. Amongst other items, I bought a packet of cheese. When I got home I realised, luckily before consumption, that the cheese was 2 days out of date. Old food is a big deal in the food traders industry and one that raises concerns as to the level of Coopers’ food standards.

I am very tempted to call Trading Standards. Generally, I find the quality of service in the shop absolutely shit and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see it shut down and replaced by a Tesco Metro or Sainsbury’s Local. Rest assured Mr. Cooper, I won’t be buying from your shop again.

My brand, spanking new Barcelona football shirts arrived in the post yesterday. I don’t know whether it was posted from Spain or from a warehouse within the UK, but I must commend them on a quality and speed of the service.

After a bad experience a couple of years ago involving an order from the Leeds United online shop (which I mentioned on this blog at the time), I decided to try ordering my Barca shirt over the telephone. That was a bad idea…

Now I know Barcelona are a Spanish football club, but when the website is in English language and the order line has the Bristol dialling code of 0117, you would expect somebody who actually speaks English to answer.

A Spanish lady answered. I couldn’t understand her and she couldn’t understand me. After an awkward exchange of Spanish and English dialect, I was transferred to a automated switchboard “PRESS 1 TO SPEAK TO AN ENGLISH ASSISTANT, PRESS 2 TO SPEAK TO A SPANISH ASSISTANT”.

I pressed 1. Now, I may be very wrong but I am sure I was transferred back to the previous lady! This time however she was able to speak English (and very well may I add). We went through the whole order process and at the last moment disaster struck! Her computer crashed.

Working in network support, a lot of my clients actually speak Spanish. I was tempted to talk her through the usual support bollocks on how to get her connection back. I decided against this, thanked her and ordered from the website. Something I should have done all along as it worked fine.

I must always remember… order Barca shirts off the website, Leeds shirts over the telephone.

I’m now off out to Garfunkles, hopefully I’ll actually get a table this week unlike last Saturday. It’s then back to mine for a GoldenEye session and another round of Gary Lineker’s Football Challenge. :o)

Did anybody watch Gordon Ramsey’s F Word this evening? It had a rather unpleasant scene where some piglets were having their tails and worse still, bollocks cut off.

I know the animals we eat are often kept in foul conditions and killed inhumanly, but apart from giving up meat and becoming a veggie (which I certainly am not prepared to do) or going to specialist farm shops where I can see the animals have been reared in a proper manner, I don’t think there is a lot I can do. It’s just that I never realised that the extent of the cruelty was THAT bad!

The pigs were screaming too, so nobody can argue that they can’t feel pain. I challenge the pig butcher to cut off his own knackers and rip out half of his spinal cord and not flinch.

According to Mr. Ramsey, the cutting of pig tails and bollocks only takes place outside the UK but 70% of the pork we eat is not British. It’ll certainly give me something to think about when I am tucking into my ham salad roll tomorrow lunchtime.

On a totally unrelated subject, there is a big spider on the ceiling outside my bedroom. I’m scared. It’s not very nice being kept hostage in your own home. I have to carefully run along the landing for fear of it diving from the ceiling and falling into my hair. Little bastard, I wish somebody would cut the spider’s bollocks off.

I was a little sad to read this story about Leeds striker Rob Hulse being sold. Still, £2.2million is a lot of money for a Championship striker who has been carrying a niggling injury for the last 12 months.

If the money can be invested in new, decent players then it is good business, especially as he was originally bought for only a million a year ago.

Still, Rob Hulse has provided Leeds with some great moments over the last season or so, most notably his goal against Preston in the Play off Semi Final in May.

See you Rob, good luck. Thanks for the memories.

I’m bloody frustrated this evening. Frustrated at myself. I was playing football this afternoon in the park with Simon, his friend Steve and a group of random people who I have never met before.

I played in my preferred position as a striker. Too many times for my liking I scuffed chances and was also denied a winning goal late on. That really, really hurt.

My performance started off below par too, although I am putting that down to dehydration as after a bottle of Lucozade mid-match, I was ready to go again. I still feel I should have done better and like any striker, whether they are playing in a park 6-a-side team or for a major European club in The Champions League, goal misses hurt, they hurt bad and the pain can only be rectified by scoring in the next match.

Ever since that game a few hours ago I have been feeling sorry for myself. It’s stupid how a silly, meaningless event thing can create negative feelings that you normally don’t allow to affect your life. Tonight I feel overworked, underpaid and undervalued in my job which I normally enjoy.

Life can be shit sometimes, but life has also taught me that unless you are Ainsley Harriot, the Worlds Happiest Man, everyone has these days. Tomorrow will be a new day and while it probably will not be fantastic, it will not be shit either and I may well have a good time and a laugh.

So, like my old science teacher used to say, (and believe me, he really did say this) “Don’t get the razor blades out just yet”.

Here’s a picture of the man himself (not my science teacher) to cheer you all up

A bit if a late blog tonight, Simon and Watkins have only just left after spending an evening of mischief at mine.

The evening started with Watkins picking me up and heading for Garfunkles in town. Annoyingly they were fully booked and we were asked to wait. As Simon was coming round later, we were on a tight schedule so decided to give it a miss and go to Nandos.

On the way to Nandos we stopped off at Morrisons supermarket to pickup a box of Coke for the evening. All the queues at the checkouts were ridiculously long, with people buying their monthly shopping. As we only had one item we went to pay at the kiosk.

While waiting in line at the kiosk, I joked to Watkins “If they don’t let us pay here, I will leave the £3.19 and walk off”. When we reached the front of the queue, we were greeted by a very gormless looking chap who told me that I would have to pay for my drinks at the checkout.

I agreed to pay at the checkout although Watkins was furious that I had not just left the money and ran. He got even angrier and rightly so, when the shop assistant at the checkout took what seemed like forever to finish a personal conversation with her mate she was serving and move onto us. Bitch.

We left the supermarket, Watkins still in a fit of rage that I had not done a runner. There were two reasons I didn’t. Firstly, I didn’t have the change and I wasn’t prepared to leave a five pound note on the counter. Secondly, following the customer service shown by the checkout and kiosk clerks I dread to think what would have happened had security been called to deal with us. We would probably have been sent to Guantanamo Bay.

Thanks to the fuck up in Morrisons we had no time left to go to Nandos so had to settle with KFC. Well that went well – not. They messed up both our orders, charged me for a large Zinger Meal yet only gave me regular fries and drink and when I asked for tomato sauce, was asked to pay 10 pence a packet. Fuck that.

I wanted to seek revenge. The idea of leaving a turd on the toilet floor did cross my mind, but I thought that would be going too far. Instead I helped myself to many handfuls of napkins. That’ll cost them at least the 10p they wanted to charge me for ketchup! Hahaha!

Later that evening Simon came round. We listened to an array of dance classics from the 1990s – a sure sign of age when you realise that all modern music is shit and love tunes from a past decade. We also played GoldenEye and Gary Linker’s Football Challenge, a DVD football quiz.

The raised blood pressure and adrenaline from the GoldenEye session caused mass heat radiation from all three of our bodies and it wasn’t long before my bedroom was unbearably hot – almost 30C. The fan was on and the window was open, albeit with that spider net covering it.

Watkins rightly pointed out that it would be a lot cooler if I removed the net and opened the door. That’s not going to happen, not when spiders are about outside. My arachnophobia caused great amusement for Watkins and Simon, however I did learn that Mr. Goater has a strange fear of frogs. At last, I have found the T2000’s only weakness. Next time we play football, I will carry a frog in my pocket and as he comes to tackle me, pull it out and thrust it into his face. What could possibly go wrong?

MASSIVE C**TS!

Mr. Watkins gets a little excited after making a killing on GoldenEye

Not a reading from the Reptile House at Bristol Zoo. This is from my bedroom!

I went to town after work this afternoon. My main purpose of the trip was to buy a net/curtain to go over my bedroom window.

It has been so hot lately, but due to my fear of spiders I have been unable to keep the window open at night as the little huge fuckers will probably come crawling in and attack me. The net has now been put up, as shown below. Let’s see any spiders sneak in through that, unless they may eat their way through!

I also picked up some clothes for work. Firstly, two more pairs of trousers. I currently wear black jeans and in this heat it is not very pleasant at all. I also bought five shirts. At the moment I wear T-shirts to work but now all staff are being encouraged to tidy up. The shirts were only £5 each, I wouldn’t normally buy clothing that inexpensive, but as it’s for work I don’t really mind. I go to work to earn money, not to spend it.

I actually look quite smart in my new trousers and shirt. If I was forty years older I would look just like James Bond, which brings me onto my next topic for today.

Any self-respecting 007 fan will know that the new movie, Casino Royale, is in the cinema this November. I thought the other day, that up until the movie’s release I would watch all the previous films, approximately one a week to refresh my knowledge on the series. I’ve watched Dr. No this evening and will be watching From Russia With Love in the next few days. If I make it through the marathon I will be watching the dire Die Another Day just days before Casino Royale is premiered.

I went to the park this evening for training from my football coach, Simon the T2000.

On the way to the park I was a little disturbed as I noticed that I was being followed by a man brandishing a 5ft Samurai sword. I kept telling myself that he was probably going to a martial arts lesson, but I was a tad concerned that he may have escaped from the local prison and was on a killing spree. I walked very quickly to the park.

I arrived at the park with all my limbs in tact and waited for Simon. He was delayed due to some chemical spillage on the roads and even after whispering sweet nothings into the policewoman’s ear, he was still told he must take the diverted route.

We kicked the ball around for a couple of hours, enjoying the summers evening, watching the balloons take off and eyeing up some scantily dressed foreign lady from a distance, trying to decide whether she was topless or was just wearing a very small, skin coloured bra.

After football I went home and ordered pizza. It was far too late and I was far too lazy to cook especially after running around like a madman in the heat for two hours.

My pizza was very nice, after eating I watched One Foot in the Grave on DVD, chatted on MSN and went to bed to blog and sleep. The end of my thoroughly exciting day :o)

This picture is cool. It is of Simon with that half naked woman in the background.
I took it from some distance using my mobile phone camera (hence the distortion).
To me it looks like an oil painting.

Some hot air balloons taking off.

A nostalgic blog today for anybody who grew up in the 90′s. Turn up your PC speakers very, very loud!

- Firstly, one of the best dance records ever.

- TECHNO! TECHNO! TECHNO! TECHNO!

- A song everbody liked but was too ashamed to admit.

- Quite possibly one of the greatest music videos ever. So good Guinness ripped it off for thier TV ads.

- A typical night out for my friend Mr. White is depicted in this music video – only joking!!!!

- A little bit sad but I actually like this song a lot.

Expect a proper blog tomorrow. Nothing really to say today except that I am fucking hot – again!