I received a disturbing text message this afternoon. Dan was rather displeased about the infrequency of my blogging, so sent me threats of violence via SMS. I was shocked and had to sit down as I was so perturbed.

I could have done one of three things. Firstly, ignore his threats of violence and hope he doesn’t come after me with a machete. Secondly, contact my KGB buddy, Valentin Zukovsky, and ask that he “takes care of Dan” with some poison. Or, simply take the easy solution and just write a blog.

I chose the third option…

This evening, I went to Sainsbury’s to do a bit of shopping. After money had changed hands, I headed for the exit, wheeling my shopping trolley past fellow customers, all of whom pissed me off, simply by getting in my way.

While racing down the side of the shop, I notice something quite bizarre – a box full of cat food, kitty litter and animal toys. This box had been placed in store to encourage animal-loving customers to buy presents for unwanted felines.

I’m sure that Mr. Jay Sainsbury was more than happy to place such a container in his shop, after all every time a customer makes a donation, Jay makes a nice profit. Why anybody would want to buy a treat for some mangy cat that they will never see and will probably be put to sleep by New Year, is a mystery to me.

I suppose there was no chance of a box being made available where customers could donate food, which would be sent to the third world? Maybe Jay could donate something himself? The whole thing reminded me of a sketch by David Mitchell and Robert Webb.

I did ask a spokesman for Sainsbury’s about the matter. He would like to remain anonymous, so I’ll just call him S. Goater, no that’s too obvious, Simon G…

Simon G. said that his company are planning to help other charities in the future, including “Free the Mad Bears”. After my encounter with a cashier on Checkout #8 this evening, I think the mad bears have already been set free, and are working in the shop!

In case you were wondering what was purchased in Sainsbury’s, it wasn’t just groceries. All will be revealed in Fridays blog…

Here is a collection of photos from my visit to Plymouth yesterday.

As you can see, Plymouth is shit.

I liked this ship outside the casino. A drunken sailor must have gambled it and lost.

The term “tin hut” comes to mind.

Leeds captain Kevin Nicholls and striker Jermaine Beckford begged that I have my photo taken with them.

Oooh and that’s a bad miss!

Those crazy home fans

They predict a riot

The child snatching mascot flees when confronted by the police.

Don’t let them score, Leeds!

You had better score, Leeds

Full time. Leeds win. I’m happy.

Now let’s get out of this urine soaked hell-hole!

Mr. John Watkins and Simon both came to mine last night. The evening was a relatively uneventful one. The lack of any violence, wine spillage and flatulence from John, were all welcome however.

Instead, we just watched Friday night television. I’m not normally a fan of the kind of entertainment shown on such evenings, but this week there were two shows starring David Mitchell, who is funny and always worth watching.

After TV, I set up the Nintendo 64 and we had a game of GoldenEye. Unlike last week, I was able to get the sound working, so I could actually hear the bullets from my Walther PPK entering Boris Grishenko’s chest, breaking his ribs and organs.

Boris is John’s character of choice and to be fair, he killed me a lot more than I killed him. The normally grey suite of my Siberian Special Forces guy was red and bloodied. If GoldenEye was real life though, I would have won. My buddies in the KGB would have just poisoned his fish supper.

I’m off to Plymouth shortly, daawn saafh (I believe that is how they talk on the south coast). As a member of the Leeds United Faithful, I am making the trip to watch the Giants of Yorkshire take on the Titans of Devon (making both teams seem normal size).

As you probably know, Leeds have been somewhat disappointing of late. Instead of winning games like they did last year, the players seem to have taken the attitude that losing 3-0, 4-0 or 5-1 is acceptable, much to my frustration.

Still, I am sure today will be different and when the Leeds players walk out on the pitch and notice the efforts I have made to make the trip, they will give 110% and beat Plymouth 6-0. Yeah right…

I have been informed recently, that the England national side will be playing in a cricket competition, known as “The Ashes” over the next few weeks. I know very little about “The Ashes”, let alone the cricket, I know it is played with a bat.

As a patriotic Englishman, I would like to wish very best of luck to the whole national side – Rooney, Lampard, Neville, Sven, go and do your country proud.

I believe you can watch the whole tournament on Sky Sports. After watching a bit of their coverage today, I was rather amused. Can anyone confirm whether this clip is a blooper or the presenter just taking the piss out of a man called Sean Pollock?

As you probably know, I have been off work all week and have had a particularly pleasant break. I saw two entertaining football matches, watched a hilarious show from David Mitchell & Robert Webb, did lots of Christmas shopping (as well as making the odd buy for myself), enjoyed various James Bond movies and socialised with friends, including Dan, who came to Bath for the weekend.

Now the fun is over and it’s back to work tomorrow. My bank balance is looking rather unhealthy, all the recent activity has made me very tired and I’m not overly enthusiastic about going back to the office, or having to get up at some god forsaken hour.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my job, but I enjoy living a life of leisure more. These people who say that if they won the lottery, they would carry on working are either very dull or very big liars. If I won the lottery on Wednesday night, I wouldn’t be in work on Thursday morning.

Still, no need to get depressed, I’ll be back in the swing of things in a day or two. Before I know it, I’ll be having a laugh with colleagues while drinking coffee and surfing the internet when I should be working. Shortly after that, I’ll also have been paid, my bank balance will look healthy again and my next annual leave break will be just weeks away. Then the whole process will start all over again…

Sunday morning. Quiet, peaceful, serene. Dan and I are drinking coffee from my new coffee maker. Only the slight hum of a fish tank and the tapping of my laptop keys as I blog can be heard.

It has been busier and noisier in previous days. Only the previous morning, an attempt to make coffee ended in disaster. Firstly, my bedroom fridge which stores milk, fruit, Coca Cola and (to Simon and Dan’s disapproval), cans of lager beer, decided it would be funny to piss itself all over my carpet. Either that or it became defrosted due to being unplugged. An accident, possibly on my part.

That same morning, my new coffee machine decided it would try to commit suicide by blowing itself up. It failed, although scorching hot, black coffee did end up streaming down my fridge (which the coffee machine as resting on) and onto the carpet – just like a black waterfall of molten lava.

In my attempt stop the emergency, I became very badly burnt. Dan became very angry due to the fact his coffee was delayed. I did suggest he suck the coffee from the shag of my sodden carpet and clothes, but he declined – fussy bastard.

Yesterday afternoon was also eventful. Mr. White, everyone’s favourite village drunkard, came to see Dan and myself. He was rather perturbed to see us playing various retro videogames, but after being threatened with various weapons I had lying around, he agreed to complete the whole of Lemmings for our enjoyment. If you are interested in seeing the various torture methods used on Mr. White, check out Dan’s blog. Maybe you too know a drunkard that you can use these methods on.

Everything comes at a cost though. Mr. White always wants more. He comes to my flat, eats my food, drinks my drink, shits in my toilet and this time… get this… he wanted to use MY electricity to charge his mobile phone! I don’t think that it would be too harsh to call him a cheeky cunt.

Reluctantly, I agreed to let Mr. White use my electricity to charge his mobile telephone, although warned him that should the charger be left behind, as it has on previous occasions, it will be donated to Oxfam.

Well Mr. White, after you left, I found your charger. If you want it back, I suggest taking a trip to the Bath branch of Oxfam. I believe they are only selling it for £1.50.

Dan and I did inform Mr. White of this, by leaving him a message on MSN. He ignored it and only took notice at 1am, on his return from a typical nights boozing. Upon logging into my MSN this morning, I was greeted my the following note:

Jono sent 19/11/2006 01:06:
what pics ? and wtf oxfam ?>
Jono sent 19/11/2006 01:09:
ive left my charger at yours again ?

Bless him. He sounds very confused. That’s what 10 pints of Stella does to you kids.

If incidentally, anybody else is reading this blog and needs a new mobile phone charger, the offer is not exclusively available to Mr. White, so why not pay Oxfam a visit and buy it before he does.

As you may be aware, it is Children In Need on television tonight. Are any of you thinking of making a donation to a child living in poverty in the third world? Have you ever considered giving money to people who don’t even have clean water to drink or enough food to eat? Do you want to provide medical equipment, which will transform the lives of millions of children? Well think again…

In Britain today, thousands of useless domestic pets have a bit of a miserable time because of owners who, for whatever reason, cannot stand the sight of them anymore.

For the money it costs to educate and inoculate a seven year old boy in Mozambique, this weird, panicy Spaniel could spend the rest of his life in a hotel.

For the price of a cataract operation which would restore a child’s sight, you could fund months of trawling up and down motorways looking for kittens.

For the cost of equipping an Ethiopian farmer with seeds and tools, you could provide a lifetime’s doggy biscuits for this Labrador which wees itself every time it hears the hoover.
Please, give what you can.

Yesterday, I went to the cinema with Dan (who is staying in Bath for the weekend) to see the new James Bond movie, Casino Royale.

Dan and I are both massive James Bond fans and were highly anticipating this latest addition to the series and eager to see how the new 007, Daniel Craig would perform.

After enduring FORTY FIVE MINUTES of advertisements, the film begun. Good job too, I was becoming rather frustrated and on the verge of running down to the cinema screen and starting a protest by shouting “START THE MOVIE, START THE MOVIE!”

Anyway, I found there to be positives and negatives about this latest film…

- The film was very dark, although I am lead to believe this is reflected in Ian Fleming’s original novel. In places it reminded me of Timothy Dalton’s, Licence to Kill.

- Having watched numerous Bond films lately, Casino Royale did not seem to have the charm seen in any of the previous titles. Something was most definitely missing and CR came across as more of an action film than a classic James Bond adventure. If Ian Fleming was alive today, he would not be amused.

- There was very little of the humour, innuendos or light heartedness, commonly found in the previous Bond movies.

- There were aspects of the film which bared similarities to George Lazenby’s Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Lazenby is of course, a Bond you either love or hate. Like most true 007 fans, I hate Lazenby and OHMSS.

- The Bond girl, Eva Green was lovely. Without giving too much away, I was a little displeased with how “involved” Bond became with Green’s character. In the end, it worked out for the best though.

- At times, I thought Bond was a rather crude. He has always been a no-nonsense character, but I thought one particular line, where he asks his adversary to scratch his testicles, was going a little too far even given the context of the situation.

- Casino Royale is a very good film, but at the end of the day, it’s an action movie.

- Daniel Craig is a great actor and despite appearing in a disappointing Bond movie, has a lot of potential. I think giving the right script and production team Craig could make some real classics. Sadly though, Casino Royale is not one of these

After the film, we both went to meet Simon for Nandos. At this point, Simon did not know we had already seen the movie and was getting ready to watch it this evening with us!

As I had promised Simon I would watch it with him, I had no problem with watching the film again. Dan was a little more objective however, and broke the unfortunate news to Simon when he had a mouthful of Peri Peri chicken.

Needless too say we did not watch the Bond movie again and I was unable to use the humorous blog title I had planned of “You Only Watch Twice”. Instead, Simon and Dan came back to my flat where we drunk coffee, ate cake and watched a proper Bond film – Octopussy.

It’s just a shame that the care and love which went into producing Octopussy was missing from the latest 007 film.

I was awoken this morning by a rather alarming sound. It was an alarm – a fire alarm to be precise. Some sod, probably living in the ground floor flat, must have thought it rather funny to set their fire alarm off, consequently throwing the whole building into a state of panic, as dozy residents awoke thinking that the world was about to end.

These are the same neighbours who, just the other week, scared me by placing a stuffed rabid cat in the hallway, all in aid of celebrating Halloween. I made it my mission back then to seek revenge upon “the family downstairs” and after this morning’s disturbance, am even more determined to do so.

My frustrations for the day didn’t end there. I have just returned from the local shops, only to discover that the bin men, or “Refuse Technicians” as they now like to be known, made a fucking mess when attempting to take the rubbish bags away. The contents of one bag had spilt outside the house, spilling beer cans, old food and other filthy items onto the pavement.

I know that they have a rubbish job to do (sorry!), but somebody has to do it and after paying excessive council tax rates, I expect it to be done properly.

That is my rant over for today. I’m off to town to meet Dan who has travelled down to Bath for the weekend. I will need to question him about a possible crime he may have committed…

This evening, as I have already mentioned was spent watching a fabulous performance of non-league football between Bath City and Cirencester Town. Bath are of course, very likened to the European Champions, Barcelona and their stadium, Twerton Park bears many similarities to that of The Nou Camp.

Bath won the game 1-0 and are now top of The Southern Premier Division. Apparently, the only reason that they can claim to be leading is because their name starts with a B, as opposed to Mangotsfield, whose starts with an M. Coincidentally, Bath and Mangotsfield have same amount of points, goal difference and for goals – riveting stuff I know!

The game was an amusing one. Non-league football is great. If offers something that you simply cannot get when watching a larger club in the Championship or Premier League. For one thing, non-league football is the only place where you can legally abuse another human being without being smacked, shot or arrested.

Simon and I were sat behind the opposition goal for the whole duration of the match (we walked to the other side of the ground at half time), and along with a group of other fans, took enjoyment in, not only cheering our local side, but making sure the keeper had a shit evening.

It wouldn’t be unfair to say that the Cirencester goalkeeper was a little on the plump side. Therefore chants of “You fat bastard”, “Who ate all the pies” and in the absence of any away supporters “Did you eat all the away fans?” were very fitting.

Being a Leeds fan, I also tried to bring a few chants from Elland Road to Twerton Park. My rendition of “Let’s go fucking mental!” (a Leeds United classic), went down particularly well, along with my own composition of “Are you Graham Poll in disguise?”, aimed at the noticeably inept referee.

If you thought I sounded rude and uncouth, you should have heard a group of 12 year old boys standing nearby. Insults of “You’re a fucking fat cunt!” and “Show us your vagina” were among the profanities thrown at the overweight goalkeeper, fittingly named as “Squeaky” due to his high pitched yells at team mates.

I thoroughly enjoyed the game and would really like to go back (friends of mine, particularly Simon should expect demands to go with me in the future). At this rate, I may soon be a supporter of the famous Bath City as well as Leeds United!