Brennig Jones (and friends)

So I’ve finally got my arse in to gear and sorted out just a few random snaps from the holiday so far:

So there will be snow in Africa this Christmas?

The bravest man in Marrakech!

This traffic policeman stands at the intersection of five lanes of Marrakech traffic armed with only his .45 automatic. Me, I’d want a Chieftan tank and a brigade of Ghurkas before I put myself in harm’s way to that degree!

Yoda, visiting Marrakech

A Bedouin tribesman, there are many in town at the moment because of the recent Toureg fair.

B.

I know we’re in the sub-Sahara zone and all that but stone me it’s hot today. 28c here is more like 32/34c in Spain. Something to do with the quality of the air? Even at 28c the sun is fiercely burning!

We’ve been out on an excursion today, it took us through most parts of the modern and ancient city of Marrakech. The trip also gave us a good look at the unbelievably snowy Atlas Mountains (though I don’t think my photographs will come out very well because of the heat haze between us and the peaks).

I think it’s fair to say that we’re both wasted and a quiet siesta with a couple of good books is going to be our main occupation for the next few hours.

Snoozing may occur.

While we were waiting for the bus back from the centre of the new town to our hotel we sat on a large stone and watched one of the many street vendors do his thing.

He herded out from the small gathering of tourists a New Zealand guy, and repeatedly badgered him to buy a pair of hooky sunglasses. The price started at 500Dhs with New Zealand guy firmly saying ‘no’.

He was still saying ‘no’ when the street vendor said ‘Give me 20Dhs for them’. New Zealand guy was right on the edge of saying ‘OK’ just to shut him up, I could feel it and so could the street vendor. And then the bus came along and New Zealand guy got on it with us and that was the end of the potential sale.

New Zealand guy, like the vendor, was polite at all times and kept saying things like ‘You’re very persistent, you’re in the right job!’ which didn’t – in my view – help with what should have been his default ‘bog off’ position.

But it was an amusing five minutes that helped to take our minds off the heat.

I’m just wondering why the street vendors don’t bother us in the same way they bothered him? Must be something about our attitude and body language, I guess.

20Dhs is just less than £2 at the current rate of exchange.

Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got a book on Saudi Arabia and a hot woman waiting in bed for me…

B.

I was going to do a comedy rant about BandAid getting it so wrong and that the next time you hear Feed The World you should write Midge Ure a letter to tell him that actually Midge, there will be snow in Africa this Christmas. And for a long spell of time either side of Christmas. And have you never heard of the Rif Mountains or the Atlas Mountains Midge? And do you know which continent these mountain ranges are on, Midge? And do you know precisely how close to the Sahara desert the Atlas Mountains are Midge? That’s really *really* close isn’t it Midge? And what’s the Atlas Mountain covered in Midge? Fuck me, that’s snow. And what’s that topping off the Rif Mountains Midge? Fucking hell, that’s snow too.

Yeah, as I said, I was going to do a comedy rant about BandAid getting it wrong.

Good job I couldn’t be arsed.

B.

We have just returned to the hotel. Four hours ago we walked in to the centre of ‘old Marrakech’ (much to the annoyance of everyone – who seemed to be connected to the local transport industry, whether they be taxi drivers, sons of taxi drivers, uncles of taxi drivers or great, great, great grandsons of taxi drivers; all of whom begged and berated us to take a taxi in to town rather than walk and thereby make a sector of the local transport economy bankrupt).

And if they weren’t taxi drivers or relatives thereof, they were horse-and-carriage drivers. Or relatives thereof.

We have seen many horses in harness; singles, matched pairs and (far more common) amusingly mismatched pairs. Fifty or sixty horses working the streets of Marrakech in harness. Easily 80% of them lame – seriously lame, from general unsoundness to hopping lameness. I wouldn’t get in one of those carriages if you paid me and if the driver presented me with a vet’s certificate that the animals were hale, hearty and healthy. For me – and this analogy may offend some people but I’m past caring about the sensibilities of anyone else and I really don’t give a toss – it’s like child porn; if there’s a demand for it, it will continue. If, however, the demand goes away, the received logic has it that so too will the product.

And if you don’t like this logic can I just point out that this is the logic that is being used by almost every government on the face of this planet. It isn’t my logic, alright? So to get back on topic, my message is simple; don’t use horse-and-carriage transport where the poor animals are unsound. OK?

But, to be clear, I don’t blame either the wider Moroccan people or the inhabitants of Marrakech in particular. I blame ignorance. Because here, lives are cheap, horses are cheaper and when your horse has gone down for the last time you toddle off and sell it to the local butcher and several families will live quite well on meat for a month or two.

Anyway, I didn’t intend this to be a rant about animal welfare. It just turned out that way.

But to fill in a few of the blanks, we are having a wild and fun time, the people seem to be embarrassingly friendly, the hotel is a dream (I’d like a five star hotel like this in London for £41/night please!. And our room has a top ten shower in the world. Ever!) and the weather (so far) has been excellent, and has already caused Sophie to break out the sunscreen within half an hour of sitting by the poolside.

Today is a huge Toureg festival in Marrakech, they’ve come from all over the Saharan region to buy, sell or just see and be seen. The main square/souk was filled with thousands of people this evening and I suspect the party will go on for many hours.

We’ve probably insulted dozens of people by saying ‘Non!’ to various goods and services, but we’ve eaten very well at one market stand, and we have scoffed far more biscuit-type things that are probably nothing more than deep fried coconut and butter. Delicious!

But we’re done for now. We’ve got a few plans for tomorrow but next up this evening we’re going to break out a West Wing DVD, snuggle up in bed and watch Bartlett be Bartlett.

Honestly, does it get much better than this?

So.

What’s new with you guys?

B.

It’s now Christmas Day and quiet in this house
Nothing is stirring, not even a mouse
The kettle is on and Brennig makes tea
He’ll go to the bathroom, it’s time for a… shave.

The lights are so festive, they’re bright and they’re gay
The presents sit waiting, well-wrapped (in a way)
Sophie lies sleeping, she sucks on her thumb
Soon Brennig will slide in and cuddle her… back.

I really suck at poetry.

And as for the title of this post.. no, last night we didn’t watch It’s a Wonderful Life, we cuddled up on the sofa and watched Love Actually. And I still think Richard Curtis is a curse inflicted upon this planet to dissuade anyone with ambitions of becoming a writer, because he really is very, very good.

However…

I noticed a massive continuity error in Love Actually last night. It’s so massive that it has made Mr Curtis a mere mortal in my eyes. Lord knows how I’ve never noticed it before!

Yes, you’re still very, very good. But now I know you make mistakes. And that, Richard, is the best – and most inspirational – Christmas present you could have given me.

Merry Christmas everybody!

B.

To quote Billy Connolly!

I put a new theme in place and did the usual install gubbins correctly and it looked excellent.

Except my blogroll (known as ‘links’ in the new theme) disappeared from view. It was all still there in the Dashboard, it’s just that the theme refused to show them.

Puzzled of Basingstoke. Except I’m not really in Basingstoke. But I am puzzled. Time for another cup of tea then.

Updated (after playing about with things)

Sorted! What do you think?

If you click on the ‘pencil’ button down in the bottom left hand corner you can change the skin colour – personalised just for you! How cool is this?

B.

I’m taking a quick break from wrapping one of Sophie’s presents. It’s winning by one fall and one submission but I’m confident that it’s weakening.

I really need a cup of tea. This is how the ‘not working self-employed’ amongst us spend our time; sitting around all day, drinking cups of tea whilst masturbating and listening to music.

Good times. As Justin Lee Collins would have said right there!

I’m also listening to a clutch of tracks by Sienna who are fast becoming my favourite NuMetal band. Hmmm… I must check out their gig dates.

B.

That pillar of journalistic integrity The Daily Fail Mail has published an insightful piece of seasonal editorial concerning one of the regular ‘hot topics’ that occupies many of our thoughts at this time of year…

Women’s arses.

Yes indeed, Middle England (for whom The Daily Fail Mail widely speaks), must surely be very busy thinking about little else than the size, shape and (quite possibly) the content of the backsides of certain celebrities.

So to aid Middle England’s thoughts on the matter, the editors of The Daily Fail Mail have helpfully provided us with a series of photographs of backsides of a few celebs.

We have for our delight and edificiation, a range of close-up photographs of the arses of:

• Kate Winslet:
• Beyonce:
• Jennifer Lopez:
• Kelly Holmes:
• Kylie Minogue:

Setting aside, if you can for a moment, the unbelievably questionable journalistic value of having a non-news story about a non-news item all over The Daily Fail Mail (both hardcopy and internet productions), could you for a moment imagine that you are a family member of one of these people?

Can you think how you might feel if you saw close-up pictures of your relative’s arse all over a comic reputable publication like The Daily Fail Mail in a thinly disguised piece of letchery very poorly masquerading as (I hesitate to use the word) journalism?

But I have an idea!

We could make it a New Year’s Resolution to stalk the journalistic and editorial staff of The Daily Fail Mail and snap photographs of their backsides and post those pictures all over the internet.

What say you?

And, for good measure, we could also stake out the homes of the owners of The Daily Fail Mail, and make sure we take lots of photographs of their wives’ and (18 years or over, natch) daughters’ arses too – and publish those pictures all over the place.

Because surely, what’s good enough for The Daily Fail Mail is good enough for us, no?

B.

And so with the advent of Christmas Eve, the festive season is just about truly upon us. I’ve been scouting around my favourite blogs and it’s all very quiet out there. Hmm… There may be a task for the New Year in reorganising my blogroll.

But I wonder what everyone else is going to be doing this Chris…

Oh my God, Soph’s watching The Tellytubbies!

She’s just sat down with her bowl of porridge and channel hopped right to The Tellytubbies.

Where was I (he asked in a very distracted manner)?

Oh yes.

I wonder what everyone will be doing for Christmas?

Are you going away for a quiet spell (like Masher and his tribe), receiving family from afar (like Trixie) or inflicting yourselves on family (like Mya)? Or perhaps you’ll be having a quiet time at home?

Tomorrow (Christmas afternoon) we’ll be off to the wilds of Worcestershire for an overnight spell at The Inlaws, thence to a hotel near Gatwick for Boxing Day night and then to somewhere altogether more exotic.

Bognor, I hear you cry. Yes, quite possibly.

But feel free to let me know where you’ll be and what you’ll be up to.

I might be dropping the occasional post in here from wherever in the world I find myself, but if you’re catching up on stuff before you vanish to a world of food, television and dozing with the occasional bouts of whatever is your choice of religion…

Merry Christmas!

B.

Thanks God it’s over!

What a complete and utter bunch of useless tosspots this distinctly average drama has served up for the viewer, week after week. With twats like these left on the planet there really is no hope for the propagation of the species. Mankind is doomed, official.

The main group are so totally useless that they’re actually a waste of bloody good oxygen. There are five. And between them they share three braincells which gives the entire group a collective IQ of, umm, zero.

Meanwhile, off in the other camp the ‘Head of Government’ is deluded to such an extent that she no longer resides on this planet. She’s just visiting; keeps on about ‘the law’ without recognising that without an executive and operational branch to prop up a properly functioning judicial system there is no such thing as ‘the law’. Hmmm… remind me. Before the outbreak what did she do for a wage? Oh yes. She was a politician. Ah.

This programme is massively frustrating to watch. But I think that’s the writers’ aim; to hook the viewers through an injected combination of chemicals mixed out of frustration and limitless but undelivered possibilities.

Because that, in a nutshell is what the programme has been all about; undelivered possibilities and frustration. Oh yes, and a group of main characters who are collectively and individually unable to learn painful lessons that they had inflicted on them in previous episodes. They really do deserve to become extinct.

On the positive side of the balance sheet we have:
* Good concept
* Strong cast
* Well acted
* High production values
* Above average direction
* Well located

But weighing heavily on the negative side of the balance sheet is:
* Crap writing
* Unimaginative plot devices
* Distinctly awful characterisations

The trouble is that the three items on the negative all outweigh the six items on the positive.

B.