Just looking over some past blogs. Didn’t realise I was such a miserable bastard. And there was I picturing myself as a rakish blade with wit to spare. Born in the wrong century. Should have been wandering around in sack cloth grubbing for scraps with the pigs.


‘Science has not yet mastered prophecy. We predict too much for the next year and yet far too little for the next ten.’

Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon


The Evil Minds Research Museum certainly beats padding around the Natural History Museum on a Sunday afternoon.

The museum, located in the basement of the FBI’s Quantico headquarters, houses various artifacts collected or created by some of the world’s most notorious serial killers including correspondence, drawing and paintings.

Needless to say it isn’t open to the public and is used as a resource for agents to gain insight into the minds of human predators.

The painting on the left is by John Wayne Gacy.


You have to laugh at some of the current terminology used by the National Health Service in describing job cuts.

Downsizing, staff rationalisation, ratio reduction, cost saving efficiencies, market lean workforce and effective staff redeployment (to the dole office) are just a few examples of management speak which allow the masters of the universe to think of us all as jelly beans and  potato chips. Where is ‘V’ when we need him?



I can’t see Penguin going for  a book cover like this nowadays


The skiver disappeared from our office six months ago under mysterious circumstances. It followed numerous clashes with the boss who has since refused to be drawn on the subject.

These two egos provided some uncomfortable but highly amusing encounters with both bellowing bragging rights like a couple of old tuskers.

His known misdemeanors included being found sleeping in the storeroom of an afternoon, taking numerous days off work with various bogus ailments and an inability to take orders from a female superior.

Surprise, surprise, he rings out of the blue this week and shed some belated light on the ‘Bermuda Triangle’ of office disappearances.

He ‘accidently’ accessed the boss’s email account and found that his immediate manager had been sending regular messages reporting on his behaviour.

He then read through six months of her emails, ran off hard copies and, next time they argued, pulled them out and presented them as evidence of his victimization to the very person whose email account he’d illegally accessed.

Not surprisingly she hits the roof. As a result, he first threatens an industrial tribunal and then demands three months pay to leave without a fuss. They basically say ‘bollocks, you’re sacked’ and give him one month’s pay in lieu of  being put outside with the cat and empty milk bottles.

He, of course, seems to think he is innocent of any wrongdoing as he always did (see ‘office life’ category for his long and illustrious fall from grace).  Classic.


‘The new in history always comes when people least believe it.  But, certainly, it only comes in the moment when the old become visible as old and tragic and dying and when no way out is seen. We live in such a moment: such a moment is our situation.’ Paul Tillich


The music must always play,

Lest we see where we are -

Lost in a haunted world;

Children afraid of the dark

Who have never been happy or good.

Pleasure Spots


A classic advert that appeared in the local newsagent shop this week. I love the caveat about performing ‘wifely duties.’ Well, at least he’s honest about what he wants.

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