Wanna Buy a Fujitsu?

BEDFORD ROAD: Bowled by a chinaman. Caught by a fat man.

Homey Don't Play That

BEDFORD ROAD: Tyrone...

Jon Stewart

BEDFORD ROAD: So obviously I've just discovered how easy it is to embed You Tube clips in the blog and ahead of the pending Viacom purge of the all the wonderful Comedy Central goodness on YouTube, I thought I'd bring you some of my favourites. So here's three and a half minutes of Jon Stewart on the war in Lebanon.

Harold, Call Me

BEDFORD ROAD: So this is what we were trying to export democracy for:



It's not a joke. While it has been controversial and people have been sacked over it, it's still a genuine campaign commercial from the Tennessee senatorial race. Harold Ford is looking to become the first Black senator from the South since, wait for it, the Civil War. Charming guys.

Call me Ishmael

BEDFORD ROAD: Here are some pictures from Portsmouth. Mostly the historic dockyard but also their new town landmark and the seaside. Peace.

Mummy, Where Do Emo Kids Go When They Die

ST LUKE'S: MyDeathSpace. That's where. The virtual heaven, hell and purgatory of all the little Tommy and Billy Myspaces that have died since the social networking site's inception.

It's a very vivid reminder of our own mortality and more than a touch morbid so I'm not recommending it unconditionally, however, it is, more or less literally, like looking at a car crash. For most of the week I haven't been able to take my eyes of the cranage.

My conclusion: Myspace users are likely to die of the following causes, in the following order - 1)car crashes, 2)suicide, 3)murder suicide, 4)Iraq, 5)gang violence and 6) disease.

For anyone who advocates the continuation of America's liberal gun laws, check out the guy who shot (along with the guy's entire family) his number one friend from Myspace. His favourite pasttime was hanging out with the aforementioned victim. Charming.

Charlie, A Message to You

BRIXTON: So it seems to me that my trivia team again achieved the ultimate success. Again without me. Or maybe my claiming any kind of peripheral success is akin to Nathan Buckley saying he almost one three premierships cause he once polished his toe nails at the Gabba. Anyway congrats guys. I can only hope to one day be of service.

Apparently if I'm to have people leave comments on the blog I'm supposed to open up a forum on my mo'. Well there it is. Barbs, witticisms, or drunken ramblings are expected.

And Charlie, can you email me. I'm not sure if I have your new email adress. Ditto B-Dog.

Maybe One Day Cricket Isn't Bollocks Afterwards

ST LUKE'S: Am I the only one who is getting incredibly excited about the Champion's Trophy? Obviously the low crowds would seem to be proof the Indian's aren't, but their loss. It's been an absolute cracker. That stupid little qualifying bit at the start aside. As I blog this I'm waiting for the Windies, the surprise packet of the tournament, to mount their chase of a seemingly modest 223. But then on these pitches who knows what will happen? Yesterday there was a real corker as the Kiwi's beat the Paki's (I'm using the term in the Aussie, not the UK sense)and even Australia haven't been their predictable juggernaut.

I hope the curators in the West Indies are taking note. It bodes well for next years world cup.

Our Party

BEDFORD ROAD: Remember I said we had a party the other weekend. It was fun. Here is the proof.

The Scales of Justice

ST LUKE'S: So it seems that Top Gear presenter Richard Hammond has made a full comeback. Aryton Senna did not. What a shame. It got me thinking, who else would you have rathered been in Senna's Formula One car? My votes go to Ashley Cole, Andrew Bolt and David Hookes. Oh that's right, Hookesy's already dead.

86:50!!!!!!

ST LUKE'S: So I conquered the cold, windy Portsmouth course and recorded a time of 86:50 for the 10 mile event and, in the process, also grabbed a new PB of 54:45 for 10 kilometres. Washed down with a pint of Stella and a plate of fish and chips it made for a most successful weekend.

Hopefully tonight I'll get a chance to post some pictures of the Historic Dockyards where, amongst other things, we took a harbour cruise to see a genuine aircraft carrier, looked at the Mary Rose in a climate controlled environment designed to preserve this Tudor-era battleship and strode the decks of the Victory a la Lord Nelson at Trafalgar. Other highlights included a Harrier Jump Jet simulator and a machine gun simulator.

Portsmouth itself was okay. The older parts were quite beautiful and atmospheric (we drank in a 300 year old harbourside pub) while the newer parts were suitably chavvy. The only disappointment was that we couldn't really hit the pubs and clubs for a night of chav fun!

Got home to pleasent Brixton to find out there was a shooting on the estate. However unlike the last stabbing I blogged about, this one turned out to be fatal. You can read about it here.

Friday Afternoon Boredom

ST LUKE'S: So there's nothing on the system at work here except low priority shit which I can't be bothered to read with hangover. So here's what I've found out. This cool video is from Dove's campaign for real beauty showing how an ordinairy looking girl can be transformed into an airbrushed billboard in sixty seconds.

And this is for any Lebowski fans interested in learning the phonetic alphabet.

Muppet

ST LUKE'S: There is a clear contendor for muppet of the week. By now most of you have probably heard Noel Gallagher's outburst against the Socceroos. If not you can read it here . All I'd like to know is, if we're supposed to stick with sports we are good at, what sports are the English supposed to play. Sitting inside watching the rain? Darts? Wearing track suits and baseball caps and saying this like "In-it?"

And as for that whole bit about wanting to punchy Timmy's face in. If I had a fiver I know who I'd be putting it on. So all together now, "Fuck off back to that Beatles cover band you crawled out of."

PS. Last time we played you, we won 3-1.

Portsmouth Here I Come

ST LUKE'S: So all the hard yards have been done. Well most of them. Some of them. Not counting the time I was in Spain, the week I got sick or the times I've been to hungover or lazy to run. You get the picture.

On Sunday I tackle the world (or at least somewhere's) largest 10 mile run in Portsmouth. God-willing I should be able to make it around the course in under 90 minutes. Though that's what I said before the City to Surf last year and I ended up sipping Gatorade in the Recovery Tent with a thermometer up my bum.

So spare a thought for me at about 11:30 GMT on Sunday and maybe say I quiet prayer that I don't end up violated this time.

Party to end all parties

BEDFORD ROAD: We visited Loftus Road for a 3-3 thriller between QPR and Norwich on Saturday before retiring to SW4 for the mother of all parties. It was fun. I will post pictures, and possibly a video soon.

For now check out another blogger's recollections, or lack thereof, here.

My precious, my precious

BEDFORD ROAD: This would be hilarious. If it wasn't deeply disturbing.

And this is just scary.

Airports and Alcoholics

BEDFORD ROAD: Apparently if you fly into Northern Ireland you land at the George Best International Airport. For those of you who reside in the non-football playing world, Best was a Northern Ireland winger who came to prominence in the 1960's. Renowned for his flowing locks and rugged good looks, he preceded to drink himself into oblivion. A sample quote reads: "In 1969 I gave up women and alcohol and it was the worst 20 minutes of my life." He died last year of some type of alcohol related disease.

Now obviously they couldn't have the Bobby Sands International Airport, but an alcoholic ex-footy player? So I'm throwing the forum open to my readers: Can you think of a more ridiculously named airport in the world. Real or not. For instance the Rocky International Airport in Philadelphia, Pol Pot Memorial Airport in Phnom Phen or maybe the Harry Truman terminal in Hiroshima.

It's up to you.

And You Thought You Knew Everything

OLD STREET: Anybody needing a history lesson. Try checking this gem out for some little known info on the Korean peninsula.

The super helpful site also includes some holiday ideas and a biography (which I have been unable to read at work) of the Dear Leader.

Rockvember?

OLD ST: Next month is turning into Rocktober. One month late. So far I have tickets to see The Flaming Lips, Tapes 'N' Tapes (finally after missing them twice this year)and soon I'll get my hot little hands on a ticket to see Mates of State. Now if only The Mountain Goats would come back. There's always The Boss, but those tickets call for a better salary than I have.

As soon as we sacrafice our way of lives - the terrorists win

OLD STREET: When Mao was inspiring his revolutionaries in the civil war with Kuomintang he laid out some ground rules for successful guerilla fighting. They were:

1. Speak politely.
2. Pay fairly for what you buy.
3. Return everything you borrow.
4. Pay for anything you damage.
5. Do not hit or swear at people.
6. Do not damage crops.
7. Do not take liberties with women.
8. Do not ill-treat captives.

He was, it is worth adding, successful in that war. The US, it is quite obvious, has followed Mao's example and, on the path to success, is heeding these closely. Now I know this isn't 100% related but it makes for interesting reading. Check out Raed's account of a visit to a US airport. The story is lifted from the blogRaed in the Middle :

The next day, I went to JFK in the morning to catch my Jet Blue plane to California. I reached Terminal 6 at around 7:15 am, issued a boarding pass, and checked all my bags in, and then walked to the security checkpoint. For the first time in my life, I was taken to a secondary search . My shoes were searched, and I was asked for my boarding pass and ID. After passing the security, I walked to check where gate 16 was, then I went to get something to eat. I got some cheese and grapes with some orange juice and I went back to Gate 16 and sat down in the boarding area enjoying my breakfast and some sunshine.

At around 8:30, two men approached me while I was checking my phone. One of them asked me if I had a minute and he showed me his badge, I said: "sure". We walked some few steps and stood in front of the boarding counter where I found out that they were accompanied by another person, a woman from Jet Blue.

One of the two men who approached me first, Inspector Harris, asked for my id card and boarding pass. I gave him my boarding pass and driver's license. He said "people are feeling offended because of your t-shirt". I looked at my t-shirt: I was wearing my shirt which states in both Arabic and English "we will not be silent". You can take a look at it in this picture taken during our Jordan meetings with Iraqi MPs. I said "I am very sorry if I offended anyone, I didnt know that this t-shirt will be offensive". He asked me if I had any other T-shirts to put on, and I told him that I had checked in all of my bags and I asked him "why do you want me to take off my t-shirt? Isn't it my constitutional right to express myself in this way?" The second man in a greenish suit interfered and said "people here in the US don't understand these things about constitutional rights". So I answered him "I live in the US, and I understand it is my right to wear this t-shirt".

Then I once again asked the three of them : "How come you are asking me to change my t-shirt? Isn't this my constitutional right to wear it? I am ready to change it if you tell me why I should. Do you have an order against Arabic t-shirts? Is there such a law against Arabic script?" so inspector Harris answered "you can't wear a t-shirt with Arabic script and come to an airport. It is like wearing a t-shirt that reads "I am a robber" and going to a bank". I said "but the message on my t-shirt is not offensive, it just says "we will not be silent". I got this t-shirt from Washington DC. There are more than a 1000 t-shirts printed with the same slogan, you can google them or email them at wewillnotbesilent@gmail.com . It is printed in many other languages: Arabic, Farsi, Spanish, English, etc." Inspector Harris said: "We cant make sure that your t-shirt means we will not be silent, we don't have a translator. Maybe it means something else". I said: "But as you can see, the statement is in both Arabic and English". He said "maybe it is not the same message". So based on the fact that Jet Blue doesn't have a translator, anything in Arabic is suspicious because maybe it'll mean something bad!

Meanwhile, a third man walked in our direction. He stood with us without introducing himself, and he looked at inspector Harris's notes and asks him: "is that his information?", inspector Harris answered "yes". The third man, Mr. Harmon, asks inspector Harris : "can I copy this information?", and inspector Harris says "yes, sure".

inspector Harris said: "You don't have to take of your t-shirt, just put it on inside-out". I refused to put on my shirt inside-out. So the woman interfered and said "let's reach a compromise. I will buy you a new t-shirt and you can put it on on top of this one". I said "I want to keep this t-shirt on". Both inspector Harris and Mr. Harmon said "No, we can't let you get on that airplane with your t-shirt". I said "I am ready to put on another t-shirt if you tell me what is the law that requires such a thing. I want to talk to your supervisor". Inspector Harris said "You don't have to talk to anyone. Many people called and complained about your t-shirt. Jetblue customers were calling before you reached the checkpoint, and costumers called when you were waiting here in the boarding area".

it was then that I realized that my t-shirt was the reason why I had been taken to the secondary checking.

I asked the four people again to let me talk to any supervisor, and they refused.

The Jet Blue woman was asking me again to end this problem by just putting on a new t-shirt, and I felt threatened by Mr. Harmon's remarks as in "Let's end this the nice way". Taking in consideration what happens to other Arabs and Muslims in US airports, and realizing that I will miss my flight unless I covered the Arabic script on my t-shirt as I was told by the four agents, I asked the Jet Blue woman to buy me a t-shirt and I said "I don't want to miss my flight."

She asked, what kind of t-shirts do you like. Should I get you an "I heart new york t-shirt?". So Mr. Harmon said "No, we shouldn't ask him to go from one extreme to another". I asked mr. harmon why does he assume I hate new york if I had some Arabic script on my t-shirt, but he didn't answer.

The woman went away for 3 minutes, and she came back with a gray t-shirt reading "new york". I put the t-shirt on and removed the price tag. I told the four people who were involved in the conversation: "I feel very sad that my personal freedom was taken away like this. I grew up under authoritarian governments in the Middle East, and one of the reasons I chose to move to the US was that I don't want an officer to make me change my t-shirt. I will pursue this incident today through a Constitutional rights organization, and I am sure we will meet soon". Everyone said okay and left, and I went back to my seat.

At 8:50 I was called again by a fourth young man, standing with the same jetblue woman. He asked for my boarding pass, so I gave it to him, and stood in front of the boarding counter. I asked the woman: "is everything okay?", she responded: "Yes, sure. We just have to change your seat". I said: "but I want this seat, that's why I chose it online 4 weeks ago", the fourth man said " there is a lady with a toddler sitting there. We need the seat."

Then they re-issued me a small boarding pass for seat 24a, instead of seat 3a. They said that I can go to the airplane now. I was the first person who entered the airplane, and I was really annoyed about being assigned this seat in the back of the airplane too. It smelled like the bathrooms, which is why I had originally chosen a seat which would be far from that area.

It sucks to be an Arab/Muslim living in the US these days. When you go to the middle east, you are a US tax-payer destroying people's houses with your money, and when you come back to the US, you are a suspected terrorist and plane hijacker.

Ann Coulter Says...

BEDFORD ROAD: Frequent visitors to this site might remember I take great mirth from the doings and mutterings of right wing nutjob Ann Coulter. This is the woman who announced that some of the 9/11 widows were probably glad their partners and husbands had perished in the WTC because it gave them a start in their media careers. Logical, definitely. Well wasting time on "The Huff" this morning I found a couple of more gems of wisdom. (Surely in 2000 years her utterances will be akin to Confucius).

"Even Islamic terrorists don't hate America like liberals do. They don't have the energy. If they had that much energy, they'd have indoor plumbing by now."

"[North Korea] is a major threat. I just think it would be fun to nuke them and have it be a warning to the rest of the world."

Have You Got an Erection?

BEDFORD ROAD:For anybody who has been following the den of underage sex that is United States Congress, here are some wise words from Jay Leno:

"This incident is changing the way many big companies do business in Washington. Like Tobacco companies are now hiring underage boys as lobbyists because they know that’s the best way to reach congressmen."

I only included that because I was so pissed off that Blogger stole last night's post which was cleverly peppered with witty backhanders about the Late Princess of Hearts. Unfortunately that post has disapperead into the Internet. Just like Mark Foley hoped his instant messages would.

It just outlined what I did on the weekend which went something like this: Friday night watched Brick, best movie of the year, noir flick set in a Lynchian West Coast high school; Saturday visited the Natural History Museum, the Science Museum and ate Marks & Spencer sandwhiches in Kensington Gardens (I felt just like Wacky Dave!), Jaq's birthday party in the evening; Sunday - went for a lazy stroll through the British Museum, then had a couple of cheeky Magners in Camden.

So yeah, this post is crap. But the original was so much better. Here are some photos:

It's My Sub Machine Gun and I'll Do Whatever the Hell I Want With It

BEDFORD ROAD: I'm sick. Depending on how well you know me, that my be an opinion you already harbour but by sick, I mean physical sick. Swollen glands, puffy eyes, aching joints and jar fulls of snot.

But that's not exactly why I'm blogging but it may be why my thoughts are somewhat less than lucid. Predictably, in the wake of the Pennsylvanian shooting, the gun nuts have all come out to declare that it's not guns that kill people it's actually people. I would argue that perhaps it's blood loss precipitated by small lead projectiles travelling at a high velocity. But that's just crazy talk. In fact it's just the work of crazed, lone individuals determined to do evil. The US have had three high school shootings in the past week. How many have occurred in the rest of the world in the past three years? Maybe they just have surplus numbers of crazed, lone individuals determined to do evil.

On another note it's ironic that so many people come out in defence of a constitution that their president has been so effectively defecating all over the constitution since 2000. Not convinced, read the article from The Nation.

Barcelona

BEDFORD ROAD: Barcelona was suprising. With a reputation the envy of just about any other city in Europe I expected its charm to leap out of every alleyway, echoing off every lavish gaudy (Gaudi) creation. However it didn't happen like that.

After a last drive through the Spanish countryside, the highlight being the jagged mouth of Montserrat looming on the horizon before stretching out through the passenger window for ten minutes (it was easy to see why it's inspired so many painters, wearrived at Barcelona central station. Abandoning our car we had the easiest trip to a hostel I think I've ever enjoyed.

For the next two days we soaked up as many of Barcelona's tourist attractions as we could. We walked by the beach. But it was packed with Eurotrash. We visited the Picasso Museum which was stacked with the most disappointing collection I could imagine. After taking a tour through his juvenalia you are dumped into his analytic cubist phase, however, the gallery doesn't own any of his great, or even very good, paintings. We visited Gaudi's famous La Sagrida Familia, but this great church has been under construction since the twenties I think (eat your heart out Multiplex) and its scheduled completion date is something like 2050. From the outside its faux gothic spires are jaw droppingly spectacular. Hand over ten Euros to get inside and all you can see is fucking scaffolding.

That was the problem with Barcelona. It's renowned tourist attractions, the Nou Camp aside, were rubbish. However once we found the vibe of the city it was amazing. Wandering the laneways in the older parts of town, drinking endless bottles of Rioja on one of the hills overlooking the nightlights, hanging out eating chicken and chips by the beach, it was when we discovered these things that we felt ourselves slide into the rhythm of the town.

The highlight was undoubtedly the rioja night overlooking the Olympic fountain which, to our good fortune, only operates from Thursday to Sunday night. We arrived late Sunday night and had to be at the airport on Thursday night. By all accounts the sound and light spectacular is exactly that. The shopping, which we only really discovered on the last afternoon, was excellent. The other major standout was the spectacular thunder storms that woke us up on two mornings, and drenched us as we tried to make our way home from Las Ramblas one night. Words couldn't do that torrent justice. Within five metres of leaving the pub every fibre of my clothing was soaked. Great rivers ran in the gutters threatening to suck the thongs from my feet.

As an aside Jaq and I took a half hour train down the coast to a lovely little beach town called Sitges. It also seemed to be Spain's premiere gay holiday destination. Think Castro. By the beach.