Dear The Radio Stations of The Midlands,

Cany you stop playing Kelly Clarkson? She's really very shit. It's nice that you're playing a bit of manufactured pop, but must it be the stuff that could bore a glass eye to sleep? I've heard her 4 times today and haven't even been listening to the radio much.

Whilst on the subject... that new Robbie Williams song you keep playing is really, really bad. Yes, I know that it's him out of Take That and with the quite decent back catalogue, but even that shouldn't let him get away with the 5 car pile-u that is "Sin Sin Sin". You playing it just sends the message that he can keep releasing songs written in the car on the way to the recording studio.

Please digest these thoughts.

Take care,

Gareth xx

Black is the new red and blue.

Clicky here, MoFo.

Amazing.

x

Cup My Balls

Twat spotting.

I'm bloody sick of all this World Cup rubbish. Why exactly am I supposed to care?

Stop saying I have to. It's only a game for Christ's sake, and not even a very exciting, glamorous or particularly challenging one at that. And making the horrid special needs kids of the past into national heroes just doesn't sit pretty with me. Especially that Wayne Rooney. Someone who looks and acts like that should not be wheeled out for every tv show and newspaper. He should be locked in a dark room and fed fish heads through a grate in the door.

I can't stand how you can't go anywhere without being confronted by St George's flags. They're not even that nice to look at - all pasty colours and BNP connotations. The worst are the ones on the cars. They look even cacker due to the cheap materials and the fact that the ends are nearly always frayed. I saw a report on the news last week that they've even partly closed down a local horse riding school for the disabled, since the horses travelling on the roadsides were being scared shitless by all the vigorous flapping as the cars drove past and were bucking out of fear. I'm not sure what type of harm being thrown off a horse can do to the already wheelchair bound, but the moral: flags are bad.

Even more irksome are the fans. If I have to hear from one more person how this is "our year" to go all the way, because "we've got the strongest team ever" and all "the signs" are the same as in 1966 - like "Geoff Hurst's nan was 68 when we won... and this year Beckham's nan is 68" - then I'll have a nervous breakdown. Or at least get bit more wound up. The worst are the people who don't even like football, but suddenly become the game's biggest fan for the national tournaments and buy lots of merchandise and pretend they know what the fuck they're on about using all the jargon.

I even missed an eppy of Neighbours last week because of it. "Oooh I won't tape it, I'll be back for the repeat" - only to find some obscure match between two made up places taking the 5:35 edition's rightful place. This is unforgiveable. Nothing comes between me and Ramsay street.

I just hope we get knocked out soon, so that everyone can shut up about it. God forbid if we actually win. They're still going on about 40 years ago.

At least one good, no - brilliant - thing has come out of all this sorry business:



Wow. Best friends forever.


x


P.S. And don't get me started on fucking Wimbledon. Or this week's thing with the Queen and all the horses.

Happy Birthday, Darlin'

x

Application Form

Dear The Doctor,

I heard this morning that your friend Rose Tyler will no longer be able to travel with you through time, space and various parts of Cardiff and Swansea, due to her being dead. This is an awful shame, and please accept my condolences.

However! Do stop crying, because this presents you with a unique new business opportunity.

It just so happens that I have very little to do over the next two years/ the rest of my life, and would love to come with you in your tardis. Reasons why I am a kickass companion for you:

- None of that "PMT" nonsense.
- I can eat virtually anything without getting sick. Perfect for all those foreign alien foods.
- I am prepared to cut down on all the swearing, thus enabling your 7pm family documentary format to stay in tact.
- I am fluent in both welsh ("Bore Dah!", "Pobol Y Cwm!", "Fuckin' English!") and cockerney ("Cor blimey!" "Shine yer shoes, guvnah?", "You ent maa muvvah!"), so will fit right into all the locations we visit.
- I can bring my Boppit Xtreme and chuffin' great music collection for all those long hours a travelling.
- Normally, when in a group of people, I'm wishing at least half of them dead. Whenever you meet new people, at least half of them tend to die. Therefore me being a horrible people-hating bastard is actually a blessing here, as I won't get all upset.
- I'll fit into Rose's clothes, thus saving you the bother of lugging all those binbags to the charity shop. I've got my eye on that red hoodie of hers, and that blue thing she wore when visitting New Earth.
- I won't get all huffy and file for sexual harassment if you try it on with me. Unless you regenerate into Bill Nighy or something.
- None of my family will really notice if I die.
- I am more qualified than anyone else for this, due to the hours I've put in practicing with my action figure of you.
- My Godfather is a black, and would be more than willing to travel with us everyone now and then to fill your ethnic minority quota, ala Mickey.
- Though I will very rarely be arsed to run, I can go up stairs three at a time, thus being the perfect opponent for the Daleks. As long as we go back before they could fly.


You can pay me in chewing gum and apples.

Best wishes,
Gareth


x


P.S. I suspect you've already been following me and know all this, since I'm sure I heard your tardis when I was in Birmingham the other week.

Well look who it is...

x

I want to see this:

... now.

Even though it probably won't be as good as the first. But if it's more of the same (Captain Jack beng funny, lots of swashbuckling, Keira Knightley's heaving femmiesacks, Orlando being pretty, general pirateyness...) then I won't be complaining. And then I want the third one in a month or so, since I just don't do deferred gratification.


Other films currently making me pant with anticipation:



Stormbreaker

Now this looks dead good, I've read two thirds of the Anthony Horowitz (my favourite author!!) book n' everything. It's really not his best.

Basically it's just James Bond for kids, which means it should be a bit more nimble and lacking the cackey sexual inuendo, which Are You Being Served? always did far better anyway.

It's set in Blighty and the cast includes Stephen Fry, Ewan McGregor, that guy who played Gollum and King Kong , along with Jimmy Carr for some reason. Plus there's him ^^^ with his lovely golden hair.

Marie Antoinette

My GCSE English course taught me two words - "juxtapositon" and "eponymous". If I wanted to look a bit clever I could use the latter to describe Kirsten Dunst's character in Sofia "quite good at making films, but still probably not as good as her dad is" Coppola's latest film. Although normally I'd say "titular", because the first three letters are like booby. Teeheehee.

It's meant to be all postmodern and have a nice contemporary soundtrack (including "I Want Candy" and stuff by The Cure), plus Antoinette seemed like an interest fella, so how can it be rubbish?

Except apparently it is, and was booed into next week at the Cannes screening. I still want to see it though, and most films are shit if we're being honest.





Superman Returns

I don't really like Superman - he's a bit nerdy/dull and Clark Kent's disguise of wearing glasses is just so rubbish that I can never get over it and tend to spend most of the time shouting "Are you fucking retarded??! Look at him!! He's quite obviously Superman!!" at all the characters too simple to work it out.

This one pretty much carries on from the other films, hence the fact that they've pretty much cast Christopher Reeve MkII. I only wanna see it because it's being directed by the genius Brian Singer, who made the first two X-Men and The Usual Suspects so ace.





Also:

• Southland Tales - Director Richard Kelly's apocalypse-set follow up to the nearly perfect Donnie Darko. Early buzz suggests that it's mind blowingly awful :( It's got Sean William Scott, Sarah Michelle Gellar and The Rock in it though, so this isn't too suprising.
• Babel - Palme D'Or winner starring both Brad Pitt AND Gael Garcia Bernal. Which is just really lovely.
  

Film geek and proud.


x

Long Hot Summer

Even though I actually left over a week ago, I thought I should probably blog that the first chapter of my uni trilogy is now over forever and ever. Unless I have to redo the year. But that simply cannot happen, since it's a Film & TV course and the shame of failing such a thing would be tantamount to that of some sort of OAP date-rape scandal.

But yeah, it's been quite a good year. I've made lots of new friends, a couple of whom will probably be kicking around in my life until I or they die, and lots more who I'll probably get Christmas cards from every year and wonder if the new name since last year's is a new child or pet (I'm basing this all on my parents by the way). I'm expecting to enjoy next year more though, since I won't be in the single most rancid, uncomfortable halls in the country. Seriously - they're like the lebanese orphanages you see on Comic Relief.

My course looks set to get a lot better too by becoming more practical and less theoretical. Although a clash has led to me having to pick a replacement module (tactfully called "Bent Screens") that focuses on the potrayal of the gaymosexuals in the media :( But it was either that or Canadian Film. Plus I've picked the modules that contain no exams whatsoever. Yesssss!

So I've now got well over three months to fill back here at home. I had intended to get some sort of job to fill the days, but after a bit of a think I realised that this was quite frankly a ludicrous idea, since me wearing a uniform, being told what to do and having to be nice to people, along with the whole having to do work think, are as good a mix as White Spirit and Vodka on a night out. I'll get one next year though, honest.

Instead I plan on lying in bed and on a sunlounger and generally doing very little. I may start watching Home and Away too.

Just how will I fit it all in??!



x

The firey vortex to hell has been opened

...and Paris Hilton is the saviour of pop music.

Well, her debut single - which you may or may not be able to download here - isn't the total shit-fest that you might have expected. Even though it does sound a bit like UB40. Which you wouldn't expect.

But yes! I love it!

Well done Paris, though I doubt you've even heard it.


x


PS - Do you remember last year, when Charlotte Church was the saviour of pop? Ha!


PPS - Lily Allen's probably better. But of course you already know that, 'coz lots of folk have been telling you like it's some big exclusive secret that they're so in touch for knowing about.

Gift-Wrapped Kitty Cats.

We went to see Girls Aloud!

There was:

• Boobies and legs. Legs more so. There was quite a bit of arse too. Obviously no crack, that would just be vulgar. But they wore short shorts.
  
• Live singing. Ooh er... But no! They pulled it off really well. Some bits were so good that I thought they'd started to mime, only for the odd missed line to reassure me they hadn't.
• Some nonsense at the very beginning involving an unconvincing mad scientist (i.e. a 20 year old dancer in a wig) "creating girls aloud". Apparently this was like Weird Science. I didn't know what that was. Dan told me off.
  
• Cheryl Tweedy's magic debut, where she disappeared into thin air. Seriously! Debbie McGee can fuck right off.
• A cover of I Predict A Riot which quite non-literally kicked the Kaiser Chiefs in their nutsacks. Even though "to borrow a pound for a bus-stop" sounds shit. Speaking of which, they actually sung "shit" during No Good Advice. How edgy.
  
• The unsubtlety of Cheryl Tweedy - "Aww look at yas all. We love ya with all ya merchandise."
• Wake Me Up hair swishing that could have had your eye out.
  
• The realisation that I know every single word to virtuaally every Girls Aloud song.
  
• Two girl bands as support acts. Possibly actors paid by the record company to make us appreciate The Aloud even more.
• A frankly brilliantlyshit backing video for I'll Stand By You - featuring individual zoom into close-up and panning shots of each girl - where Nicola looked disabled.
  
• Sarah totally kicking the other girls' asses in the best hair awards. Nadine had a Something-About-Mary-jizz-fringe to accompany her £3.50 Boots blonde dye job, and Kimberley had just had a bath with a toaster.
• Lots of cheering from me whenever Nicola was shown.
  
• Dancing druid monks!
• Confetti! Fireworks! Shiney-bright lights! Dry ice! Catwalk! Trapdoors! Buff dancers! Lab coats!
  
• Generally great choreography. Especially for Waiting. Although having to hold microphones meant there was no cat move during Love Machine. Sob.
  
• A graveyard of an audience. Everybody seemed funfilled, yet still remained seated. Fools. This meant I was regulated to dancing like a quadriplegic, though I obviously got up and did the obligatory jumps during Jump. I soon sat down when I realised it was just me and the comedy gay next to me in our whole block.
  
• A musicals medley (Fame! Flashdance! Footloose!).

There was no:

• Political messages.
  
• Songs being sung by the folk who'd written them.
  
• Drabness.
• Tawdry "let's split the audience up into two parts and see who can cheer the loadest" competition.
  
• Life Got Cold.
  
• Swinging London Town
  

Hooray x 5. Booo x 1. (Respectively.)


So all in all, it was a bit well good.


x

How can the light that burned so brightly, suddenly burn so pale?

It does seem quite absurd for me to cover a second animal burial in the space of about 3 days, but I thought I should mark the passing of a member of the family. Any more though and I will have to change the name of this place to "The Pet Cemmetry".

Yes, Tonto Thebunny King - beloved pet of however many years it's been now - died yesterday of death. He passed on in his winter run surrounded by lots of grass. We don't think he suffered.

It is true that we never really saw eye to eye, after the unfortunate biting Gareth incident that led to him being left outside with the foxes all night, but only a few weeks ago we agreed to put it all behind us when I took him a bit of toast and some tasty salad.

Last night at 8:45 me and the old man gave him a non-commital burial service. Due to immense grief and the fact that it was a bit nippy out, my mum elected not to attend.

I wore black and held a candle, which the wind blew out the moment Tonts' body was placed in his grave (a nice spot in his extended summer run, where he spent many a happy sunny day). We then played, rather ironically at this point, Candle In The Wind and disbanded.

I've been to a few funerals, and of all the dead rellies I've seen buried, this was by far the most moving.

RIP Tonto a.k.a. Tonts a.k.a. Mr Bunnikins a.k.a. The Rabbit a.k.a. That Hairy Little Fucker Who Bit Me a.k.a. "Oooh you've still got Oakley?" "Oh no no no, that's Tonto. Oakley got killed by a stray dog years ago".

You will be missed.


x

Eebie Jeebies

I'm about 4.

This is evident in my reading patterns, with my magazines of choice mainly being Doctor Who Adventures and whichever poprag has Girls Aloud on the front. I also came out of Waterstones the other day clutching a fresh copy of Mr Bump (coz we never found our original copy) and a Charlie & Lola sticker book, which just so happens to be my favouritest programme of the moment.

Of course this can all be attributed to an interest in childrens things (most definitely not in the aging-rockstar-panting-at-a-computer-screen sense) since they're so much cooler, simpler, funnier and generally happier than the stuff for my age group. Perhaps there's also some retardation of my mind that has stopped it progressing in some areas since reception, a bit like Michael Jackson. But again, to reiterate, I AM NOT A NONSE.

More worryingly, it has come to my attention that I'm a proper wimp. Take last night for instance. There's a programme called Supernatural, about some ridiculously fit brothers, who it's still nice to think are going at it, driving around America in an old car fighting various demons and generally scary fuckers. Despite being brilliantly-pap, I've only ever watched it twice due to its awkward scheduling. Both times however it has scared me shitless.

Last night it was about some sort of evil Doctor-witch-demon who comes through your window at night and feeds on you. As a result I had about two hours less sleep, lying in my room with a lamp on, curled up in a phoetal position so nothing could get to me. Plus when I was watching it I had to turn a light on and keep looking behind me at 30 second intervals. The same thing happened when I saw an eppy a month or so back, along with whenever I watch Crimewatch. Or when I read Voldemort-heavy chapters of Harry Potter. This isn't normal, right?

I suppose it's another reason why I should stick to pre-school shows. I'm sure it's irresponsible broadcasting though. If the TV studios are ganna keep unleashing evil threats into my paranoid mind, they could at least send the aforementioned brothers round with their big guns to protect me.


x

It's all abaat faaam-lee.

On Sunday I was dragged to a family do-thing, because my rents reckon that "Gareth's at Uni working hard" only works as an excuse to get out of it when I actually am at Uni. Which is just a technicality.

I always hate these things. They tend to be so sedate, yet rigidly pompous with a hint of smugness thrown in for good measure. Plus I have to dress up smart. And I don't do smart.

Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of my family I like. It's just that these tend to be the younger generations and not the fossils who are in charge. I have absolutely nowt in common with them, and am never keen on the way that they like to point out what a dissapointment I am to them, before finding me little jobs to do around the house. I do quite well at avoiding them though, as I hadn't seen my grandparents in a good 2 years.

In the end it wasn't as bad as I expected. Age seems to have softened Granny and Grandad a bit, terrible for them but great for us. It means that Granny has gone from talking none-stop about the Neighbour's scandalous hose-pipe use and the general decline of the country to quietly sitting slumped in a chair, looking confused. Grandad also seemed more mellow. Though of course he still told me to get a haircut and a job. At least he didn't go on his rant about there being "a n*gger in every television programme" for once.

Both also seemed generally pleased to see me. Though I suspect that this may have been a spot of acting, as when we were later back at their house I noted that the shelves containing numerous pictures of their aleged six Grandchildren, didn't feature me or my sister once. The bloody cheek! I know I'm no oil painting but neither are my cousins.

My stomach was churned a few times. Firstly during the twotoomany conversations I was trapped into having with the 90 year old great (but not in any other sense) uncle, who wreaked of embalming fluid and couldn't resemble Lord Voldemort any more if he tried. I was seriously scared. Especially when he stopped talking and froze for a good 10 seconds, making me think that he'd actually died on me. He told me off for not liking sport, but congratualted me on loosing "a few ounces" since he had last seen me. A few ounces? Six stone more like, you cheeky fucker.

Then secondly when my Grandad forcefully made me sit with a cousin and talk to her about my uni course, because she's wanting to do something similar. Later he revealed that he was playing match maker because he thought I had my "eye on her".

:(

I didn't think we were that posh.


x

Woolly Mammoth.

This picture shows the funeral of Cassie the sheep.

Narrowly behind Shaun, Cassie was my 2nd favourite sheep of television and film, so today I shed a tear for her. Even though I thought she'd carked it years ago.

RIP Casserole Kennedy.


x

Oh my! Look!

Thousands of people being brutally murdered!


Kerching!


As a person who had lost someone on that day, this is the last thing I would want.

As a film fan, this is the last thing I want.


x

Bastardos!

Ok I and we are drunk but I'm ganna leave this up so GARETH OF THE SOBRE FUTURE YOU HSVE TO LEAVE THIS UP

anyway we are angry coz me and girl sam/ femmiesam and tiwds wanted to watch the incredibles on dvd BUT SOMEONE HAS BORROWED IT AND LOST IT THE FUCKING CUNT SMEAR STAINS so we cant watch it and i am abgrysad. we left a note in the kitchen so hopefully it'll be back, Otherwise i'll hae to get a yelloe trackysuit and go "killbill" on everyone's asses. Oh i forgot sian woulda watched it5 too but we were looking in the kerfuffle for so long like when jack wouldnt answer his door that she got tired and went to bed or see Matt.

x


EDIT: I realised my belt had gone but dont stop i worried but it was in blodwens' room im am happy my trousers didnt fall down and she didnt see my cock. we saw pete Wentz's cock on popbitch. he is flat and under and under my bed from gwens magazine from where i ripped it. stop anicking that is all we will now watch the magic roundabout BECAUSE AS I MENTIONED SOME ONE STOLE THE INCREDIBLES. bye now for now. please dont delete this whe you are tomorrow gareth.

x

Veggie did.

I realised today that it's been exactly one year and a bit since I took the plunge into the refreshing lagoon of vegetarianism and drowned myself in the goodness of animal love. Or something.

Anyway, I've not eaten meat since last May. Except for that one time the confused and, quite frankly, too old to be alive lady in the Uni canteen got the veggie and lamb burgers mixed up.

Woo. Go me.


x


P.S. I'll probably go Vegan in a few years' time too.

P.P.S. That'll be the final dietary change though. I'm not going Fruitarian. They're fuckin' mental.

Mourning in Newcastle.

Terrible news. After 82 years on our screens, the BBC have axed Byker Grove. It's hard to believe that the show that gave us Ant n' Dec, and the (sadly) false belief that every Geordie has the supernatural ability to jump up into the air and stay there, suspended in animation, for two seconds will never be seen again.

It was a bit shit, but may it rest in piece.


x


P.S. It's their own fault for killing off Geoff.

P.P.S. I'm still too upset to talk about the same fate meeting Footballers Wives.

I want a baby.

So yeah, the other day I was standing in a crowded train carriage on my way back to Birmingham. Everyone was stressy and miserable, and giving out that huffy "I'm better than you" stare that folk do in such situations. My stare was naturally superior, coz I actually was better than everyone. But anyway, all our mardiness was soon melted away by the presence of a young mum holding a baby.

It was the coolest and cutest thing ever.

It (I can't work out whether it was a girlbaby or a boybaby) just kept wriggling about and smiling and giggling and touching it's mummy's face. And then every now and then it would just stare out of the window in total wonder.

This all got me thinking about how amazing it would be to have another such life dependent upon me etc... And I came to the conclusion that I want a baby. So much so, in fact, that when I arrived home I even changed my MySpace "Children?" section from "Undecided" to "Someday", which is pretty much in the same league as popping into the adoption agency to pick up leaflets. Obviously not now, but when I'm older, and more financially and emotionally stable. And only if I'm in a strong relationship. So it's quite a stringent check list to meet.

But then I got thinking more, and realised that a bouncing baby would most probably turn into a nasty little shit, filling the rest of my life with stress and misery. Furthermore, babies are bloody hard work and I value my sleep a bit too much. That young mother on the train was probably even fighting an internal battle not to throw the fruit of her womb from the carriage window.

So instead I've decided that I'd quite like to adopt a rescue chimp instead. They're just as rewarding, cuter, and far less stressful.

x