Andy's Land of Adventure

Adam Smith, What's That All About

You'd think that when a Country releases a new bank note, the banks would take it upon themselves to make sure that they inform all of the shops that it's going to happen. Personally, I read about it in the paper last night, so I was up to speed, but it appeared as if I was the only one in House of Fraser today that new what was going on. Last night, whilst playing football, I lost my jacket by leaving it in the changing rooms, so about an hour ago I popped down to House of Fraser to get a nice new one. I found one I really liked, a brown Duck and Cover one with orange bits on it for £70, so I got that. When I came to pay at the till with my crisp new (and sequential) £20 bank notes the woman behind the counter looked at me as if I'd walked into her house on Christmas Day and pissed on her kids.

"What are these?" she asked.
"They're the new £20 notes", I said. "Didn't you read about it in the paper?"
"Erm, I'm just going to have to call customer services" she flittered.
"You do that", I told her

A brief phone call later...

"Erm, customer services don't know anything about these", she stated.
"You're kidding me", I said. "Well can you get someone who does know about them?" I asked.

Right on cue, a 'supervisor' came over. I explained the problem to which he then asked

"Can I take one of these upstairs for a moment sir?"
"Sure", I sighed, dejectedly.

15 minutes later the supervisor returns...

"Yes, these are perfectly fine sir. I apologise about the wait, I had to call the bank" he proclaimed.
"It's fine, really" I stated.
"For your trouble, let me give you a special 10% off voucher to use in our homeware department" he added.
"Thanks for that", I said, "but the cashier has already given me one as all customers are getting them today."
"Oh", he said, stumped on what to say. "Well, enjoy your day" he finished before scurrying off to wherever he'd come from.

Whose fault is it then that I had a wasted lunch break. The banks? Maybe. House of Fraser's "off the ball" staff? Possibly. Mine for being such a trend-setter? Doubtful. But what I do know is that I'm glad I've not got any more of them for now until more people know about it. And incidently, Adam Smith as the new face... what's that all about!?!

Guess Who's Preggers?

No, it's not me, at least, I don't think I am. Instead, it's just been 'officially' announced that the gobby Welsh singer turned tv host is well and truly up the Hilary Duff. Whose it is, I don't know, and to be honest I don't care. Maybe it'll give her something to spend all that 'hard-earned' money on, once she's allowed it that it. As long as creates another case of what I'd now like to call the "Jade Goody Syndrome" and causes her to disappear indefinitely from my tele-box then I'll be a happy man, though somehow, I expect it will cause another media frenzy and we'll be seeing far too much of the Crazy Bitch, sorry, I mean Chick. On that subject, Jade still keeps popping up in the paper. She takes up far too many inches, both on the planet and in my paper. I'd say that I wish she was abducted, but hell, she'd probably get front cover then. What a waste of space!

Snow, Fuck Off Please

Ooooo, the snow, isn't it wonderful. No! No it bloody isn't. Last night, the weather forecast predicted snow, and for once in their little lives the weathermen got it right; so this morning upon awakening I was greeted with four inches of the damn stuff. "But it's lovely and it's pretty and it's blah blah blah" you may say, but for me, as we've just entered what feels like the 93rd consecutive month of winter, I'm fed up with it.

This morning, as odd as it sounds, it made me look at my life. What kind of life is it when you're forced to get up at some early hour, in the freezing cold that never leaves because of the constantly crap weather. Then, you have to trudge through what used to be snow that has now been turned to slush by a load of buses and other pissed off commuters, and with every step it soaks further up your trouser legs. Now if we were somewhere else, this might not bother me, but we're in London, and this slush isn't just slush; it's the dirtiest and most fowl slush that you'll ever find, and not only will you be soaked, you'll be soaked and filthy. Then, arriving at the train station, you have to wait for 35 minutes for you delayed train because of "signalling failures" when what they really mean is someone fucked up. It wouldn't be so bad if it said it was going to be 35 minutes, but it doesn't; it just lies to you instead. For 29 minutes my train was due in 6 minutes time. Fuckers.

When the train finally arrives, it's so full that when you finally cram yourself on you feel guilty being that crushed and not being coated in a layer of brine. Then you arrive at the station, a veritable polished floor death-trap where every step is a Claims Line Direct phone call waiting to happen. If you manage to get through this unscathed then you can look forward to the second half of your wet sludging through, cold, wet, grey, dirty, over-priced, one-hand-constantly-in-your-pocket, run by wankers central London to a job that has you sitting down in front of a screen for two-thirds of your usable day, probably ruining your vision, increasing your blood-pressure and generally making you wish you were someone else.

How I long to spend my days in warmer climates, doing jobs to just get me by, not worrying about whether the site I've had in build for languages I don't speak in code I don't know is going to be ready for the imminent "phase 36 rollout". Becky, if you have an ounce of sense in your body, don't come back!

Put Down The Fork

OK, part of this rant isn't Sainsbury's fault, but hey, who really looks at all the facts when you're having a rant huh! Yesterday, I went shopping for some food at my local Sainsbury's and because I spent over £10 I got one of their "The Big 5 Drive" peel-to-win game cards where you can win some free fruit. Now I must say, kudos go to Sainsbury's for trying to push people towards eating more fruit, but if you're going to do it, do it right!

As I tore open my game card I was quite happy to see the words "Congratulations" staring me in the face, but that slowly left me as I read what I'd won. I litre of Sainsbury's Apple Juice. Sainsbury's people, if by any chance you're reading this, pass this onto your prize pickers - a litre of Apple Juice when it clearly states "made from concentrate" on the front does not count as one of your 5-a-day. In fact, with the amount of sugar in it, you'd be better off sticking to plain old water. Well done Sainsbury's. Now, let me win some strawberries, or a pineapple and I'll let you off.

The part of this rant that isn't Sainsbury's fault, but happened in there this morning, is a rant about fat kids. Ever since seeing The Goonies and the "truffle shuffle" I've known that childhood obesity is wrong, so it angers me when I'm queued behind some big fat school kid who's spending his £5 of dinner money on sweets, chocolate and other sugary treats. The thing is though, what can you do about it? What would happen if a major food store stopped allowing people in school uniforms to buy sweets and chocolates? What would happen then? My first instinct is that the parents would complain. And I think that's the real issue - the parents. In a lot of these cases they don't have the child's best interest at heart as they eat themselves into an early (and very wide) grave. All they care about is the kid not moaning when they get home from school as they're not full of sugar. The worst example of this is Jessica, a five year old who is 110kg (over 200lb) and whose legs have bowed under her own weight. Watch the video, and you'll realise as much as it's the girls fault, the mother practically shovels food into her daughters mouth. Some people shouldn't be allowed to have children!

What If God Was One Of Us

I came across this website earlier today and it's had me in complete and utter stitches. It's the top 100 forum quotes from hard-core Christians and their rants about things like Athiests, evolution and science. Anyone who I consider a sane person would be able to see how crazy some of these theories and thoughts are that they have. Just check it out and you'll see what I mean -  http://www.fstdt.com/top100.asp

A few of my personal favourites are as follows:

#3 - "One of the most basic laws in the universe is the Second Law of Thermodynamics. This states that as time goes by, entropy in an environment will increase. Evolution argues differently against a law that is accepted EVERYWHERE BY EVERYONE. Evolution says that we started out simple, and over time became more complex. That just isn't possible: UNLESS there is a giant outside source of energy supplying the Earth with huge amounts of energy. If there were such a source, scientists would certainly know about it. [emphasis added]"

#17 - "Several million years for a monkey to turn into a man. oh wait thats right. monkeys dont live several million years."

#29 - "Some people are born Asian, but through surgeries and counseling they can change."

#56 - "Have you ever seen an airplane or a bird? They defy the theory of gravity. Dont' say stupid stuff..... theorys can be broken, that's why they're not laws....."

#59 - "Doesn’t make sense. Evolution is stupid. You have to be a jackass to be evolution. Do you think man used to be a hairy, ugly, illiterate not so bright monkey lookin motherfucker. Will you let a ape do your taxes?? Can a ape drive a car??? Can a ape talk??? No!!!!!!!!"

#66 - "I didn't come to Jesus by my intelligence and neither will you my friend."

#93 - "A missionary I knew watched a bullet headed for him do a RIGHT ANGLE before it got to him."

#97 - "Constants seldom are ... pi changes depending upon the strength of the gravitational field involved."

New Term: MySpace Girls

There's a big thing in the music industry at the moment saying that there should be a new music genre known as "MySpace Bands". These are the kind of bands that you might listen to the four songs on their profile and add them as a friend - just because you can - but in reality, you'd never buy their album or pay to see them in concert. On that note, something that I think is highly overlooked is a new term that I've just invented which is MySpace Girls ©2006.

In the same way that you'd never pay to see MySpace Bands, a MySpace Girl would never turn your head in the street, you'd never approach her in a bar and you'd certainly never proudly show her off to your friends and family, but once they're on MySpace they're suddenly treated like they're some kind of sexual tyrannosaurus. To help spot a MySpace Girl, I've catagorised them into five sections

The MyMob (aka a MyCell and a MyCam)
These MySpace Girls are determined to take the smallest, lowest resolution pictures of themselves that they can on their mobiles or webcams, usually leaning into the picture to excentuate the fuzzy fleshy tones of their breasts whilst cleverly hiding the fact they have a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp. The MyMob will usually have seven or eight pictures that are practically identical, except that in some she'll be wearing a black lowcut vest top, and in the others it will be white. MyMobs are often also spotted wearing pink and having a site covered in Playboy and list their interests as "sex" and "boys". Beware this MySpace Girl, she's probably 14!

The MyAngles
If you've not seen the MySpace Movie, watch it after you've read this and you'll understand about "The Angles". The MyAngles girls is a "Yeti" (again, it's in the short film). You never get the whole picture. The usual choice consists on a picture of a leg or a close up of an eyeball, or in more cases than not, an arse cheek. Only the most tuned imaginations or the best Photoshop skills will ever be able to piece all of the bits together to begin to comprehend what they really look like. I know it's your space, and you may be repulsive, but so what? Surely it's better to have friends who know you for who you are and not for what you're tricking them into believing you are. This brings me nicely onto number three:

The MyModel
You will never see a real MyModel in person. They will always make excuses not to meet up, even if you're going to the same bar any particular night. A MyModel delights in the fact that you can now download Photoshop for free as it means they can tweak either their few or their large amount of inperfections out of photos. You will never meet one for real as she is scared of what you may really think of her. If you "tweak" one photo in your profile as your main one by say making it black and white or a bit funky, well that's understandable, but to do it to all four pages of your pictures is just insanity. A lot of the time, a MyModel is also a MyMob realishing in the fact that she can trick you into believing that she's something she's not. Deceit is no-one's friend!

The MyLiar
I have recently discovered that after speaking to someone that I've never met for almost three years that she was a MyLiar. A MyLiar does simply one thing - she doesn't have pictures of herself on her profile, she finds photographs of someone else and posts those instead in a attempt to pass them off as herself. Sure, I understand that if you have self confidence issues then you might not want to post pictures of yourself, but to pretend to be someone else is a little wierd. The thing that gets me about my personal experience is where on Earth did she get enough photos of this mystery person to pass them off. Pictures like "my with my mum", and "me with my best friend". This I find quite scary! The fifth, final and possibly worse MySpace Girl is:

The MySlut (also known as a MyWhore)
This kind of MySpace Girl parades photos of her cleavage and arse off in the most scantily clad clothing she can possibly find. It usually involves just knickers and a bra, if that. Girls - if we've seen one naked back, we've seen them all. The MySlut usually has no more than three or four photos of herself on her profile, just incase one of them happens to show her in a bad light or you can see her cellulite. The MySlut gets off on having as many guys as possible for friends in a vague attempt to get them all to write "you're hot", or "fuckin' beautiful" on their pictures. Come on - we've all seen the Evolution of Beauty video by now and are very aware that it is possible to polish a turd. Personally, I am a fan of the term "leaving it to the imagination" and would much rather see your normal face or out with friends rather than a shot you took 600 times just to get the angle and lighting right. It's not natural you know!

Anyway, rant over and I think I've made my point. If you think you've featured on my list and you're perfectly happy having your 2,572 friends who you'll never meet and will never know the real you then fine, good for you, but if you're not, then well done - maybe you're one of the few remaining good ones out there that would be suitable for people to introduce to their parents!

And before anyone comments, I know that some people on here are real models so use portfolio shots or don't have decent camera so have to use a mobile or a webcam, but I'm not talking about these ones, I'm on about the exceptions!

Want to see people's replies? Hopefully the drama will unfold right here - MySpace Forums

Taking a Gamble

I have a question to all you fellow lastminuteliving blog people. What's with all the gambling blogs? The Gambler, The Sports Trader, Can I Make It Or Not? and God knows how many others. I didn't realise there was such a culture. Is the reason that all of these "professional gamblers" decide to blog their semi-succes as 'Anal Sepository came in as a long shot of 75 million to 1' or 'todays top tip according to my mate Harry from the butchers who overheard a guy who knows a guy who met a jockey in 1994' because they never leave the house incase 888.com does a 'we'll double your bet for the next 18 seconds special'.

I bet they're all fat. In fact I'd put money on it... 6:1 anyone?

Highway to Hell

I thought my worst ever bus ride would be the time that I spoke about in October when I fell asleep on the night bus and woke up miles past where I wanted to go and ended up in an out-back wasteland somewhere south of Croydon. Friday's journey to Bournemouth topped that though, 10 fold!!

Becky and I had decided to save £3 by taking the Megabus as opposed to the National Express to Bournemouth. Never again! I was a Megabus virgin at the time, and now I understand why. The National Express is a nice air conditioned coach that's usually pretty comfortable with plenty of leg space. The Megabus on the other hand is just a bus. And not a bus like they have in Singapore that you can stomach for over an hour; this is just a normal, bog standard bus, expect that they've cramped more "profit gaining" seats on board so you have no room to circulate blood from the knees down. We weren't off to the best start, especially as we had trouble finding the damn thing anyway and ended up running through Victoria with all our luggage.

The worst was yet to come though. Not only did I somehow mess up three Sudoku's (in The London Paper / London Lite of all things) but we had captain gobby sitting right behind us. For the full three hour trip, this lad was talking to some girl that he'd blatantly met on the Internet and was in the process of trying to impress. From his side of the conversation alone, this is what I know about him!

His name is Adam. He's 17. He lives in Bournemouth. He's talking to a 15 year old from the Midlands. He miraculously survived a four car pile up on the motorway with his granddad where some "little kid" smashed his collar bone "quote: it was like totally gone" AND got whiplash. He once rode a bike down a down-hilling track with no axle pin in the back wheel. Him and his best mate have a deal where if they'd never date each others ex's or go for someone that the other one is interested in. He's kissed this mystery girl, but they are both currently seeing other people. He told her he's better than her at everything expect "having babies"...
I could go on but I'm getting angry again just thinking about it all. I've heard people try to bull-shit in the past, but this lad was full of it. 90% of the stuff that he was talking about isn't feasibly possible. He said how he'd do anything to show her how funny he was, but when she asked him to walk up and down the bus with his trousers around his ankles he made excuses not to (people are asleep blah blah blah).

The saddest thing is that he only hung up as she had to "go have dinner", and he was going to call her back in an hour. What kind of stewed vegetable is he talking to?

It's odd, I've never met this guy (bar a few dirty looks), but I despise him already. From his conversation alone I know that he's brash, arrogant, self-obsessed, condescending, dishonest, unfaithful, unreliable and just full of shit. What a catch huh! I think him and the vegetable deserve each other!

Things that I've learnt (part 1)

It's amazing how many facts of life you can gain in one short walk to work. Today, I learnt six things, mainly about umbrellas and marketing.

1. Whoever invented the umbrella and decided to put all those pointy bits on the ends at my eye height is an idiot. If it wasn't for my ninja like reflexes and the fact that my hat has a very slight peak, I could have been blinded. Twice.

2. Two men should never share an umbrella. Seriously, even gay men. No!

3. Umbrellas are like the car for people in London who don't want to be fleeced for congestion charges. You know the kind who have to get a massive car to make up for other 'inadequacies'. I think it's the same with umbrellas. So the guy with the umbrella the size of Ipswich that I saw earlier, wipe that grin off your face. We all know you've got a penis like a shrivelled-up grape. And to all the ladies wondering, I don't even use an umbrella. **insert wink here**

4. To the other guy holding the "Discount Barbers - £7 Any Style" sign and smoking a cigarette outside Victoria Station. Mate, change your job. You look like the most bored guy on the planet. I'm sure SubWay are always looking for people to hold their signs. They probably pay more, and I'll bet you get better chances to work in some different locations. I mean, get your head down, work hard at it, and who knows, five years down the line, you may be Chief of Signs and get to tell other people where to stand.

5. And the other guy handing out... well... something. That is my point. You could have been trying to give me a voucher for Unlimited Free Lifetime Membership To Horny Jacks Lap Dancing Club and I would have said no as I had no idea what you were trying to thrust into my hand. Not that you tried that hard anyway. Get your boss to give you a top with the brand on or something. Then when I see you coming towards me with "Scientologists Anonymous" or "Save the Stick Insects" plastered all over you at least then I know it's time to get my phone out of my pocket and begin my imaginary conversation.

6. The Big Issue. Now I'm not going to say anything too bad as it's a good cause and I respect that. But they too need to work on their marketing. The guys who try to sell it to me have obviously never heard of viral, guerrilla or direct marketing strategies. No wonder I've never witnessed a sale of one.

What a morning it has been

Andrew 1 - 0 London

London is going to eat itself, puke itself back up and then eat all the sick that's lying around; that's for sure. Ever since it was annouced that we had the 2012 Olympic Games, Mr Political has been flexing his financal muscles in an effort to raise enough money to pay for all the work that's going to be have to done. So, who does he decide to give that job to? The Londoners. Of course!!! Because we're not having a hard enough time with higher tax brackets, transport systems that are about as useful as trying to gently flog someone to death with scented bootlaces, and risking living at the heart of one of the top potential holiday hotspots for Johnny Terrorist armed to the teeth with C4, AK47s or whatever the hell those kids are using these days. We'd love that extra burden too. Thanks! I mean, don't recover it from ticket sales. That would be a stupid idea!

I wouldn't mind so much if there was consistancy and things work. Take the Oyster Card for example! "From November 19th, if you don't touch in and out you will pay the maximum penalty fare for a single journey". Well my station doesn't have a fucking touch-in panel. I understand this! So does everyone else. Every except the guy selling tickets at Saint James' Street Station it seems who tells me the only way that I can get a weekly 1 and 2 travelcard is on an Oyster. "But I go from Victoria on the overground" I tell him. "It doesn't accept Oyster". The blank expression that sat in front of me was doing nothing for the frustration running through my blood at the time. "You have to have an Oyster Card for a 1 and 2 travel card". This was going nowhere. I had the exact £22.20 in my pocket needed, so I wasn't going to let this shaved monkey try and charge me three quid for a card I'd only end up using to pry open the door locks on his house and set fire to his kids. "But I usually have a paper card" I said, showing him my expired one, just to prove that they exist. "Oh, you have to get that from your station". This had to be a joke. I've had a long day at work, I've queued for the best part of 15 minutes as the ticket machine on the wall doesn't work and London Underground obviously thinks it's a good idea to have one imbred trogladite working the booths at rush hour; I have restaurant reservations for 7:30pm that I'm never going to make and I don't want to shell out £6.90 or whatever it is for a peak travelcard just because I have a few stops to make tonight! I gave up. I though "fuck it", so I went and stood outside in the cold and wet and waited for the 24 bus.

It's at this point I'd like to thank Transport for London for the well marked signs and all the advertising informing me that the 24 was on strike. If it wasn't for the helpful lady at the bus stop who overheard our grumblings about every bus except a 24 appearing, we could have been there for hours. Another 20 minutes wasted.

It was time for some financal calculations, and I summed up that if I gave in and got an Oyster with £12 of credit I could to all my journeys as singles until I got paid on Friday and could afford another card when I was at home. Cold, wet and pissed off, we treked up to Victoria Station to get an Oyster and eventually, 15 more minutes of queuing and £12 of credit later we were finally en route to the restaurant. We arrived just before 8:00pm. Victoria to Tottenham Court Road had taken us an hour and 20 minutes. Thanks again Transport for London.

It's time to fight back. Sure my shiny new piece of blue junk doesn't work at the station I travel to most nights of the week, so I decided that I'm not going to pay my fare anymore, and for the last few days I've been jumping the barriers. It's remarkably easy. Just find someone who looks like their in a rush (they walk faster), stick close behind them when they go through the barriers, and rub your wallet / purse or whatever over the card reader so it at least looks like you've registered. Obviously make sure that there's no Oyster card in your wallet when you do this. It's even easier if you have a bag. Hold it out low in front of you, right behind the persons legs. Then the beam that's on the right just after the barriers won't break and you can just stroll through.

London, I love you, but fuck off! I think I might stop paying taxes too and take my chances in court.