I wear two hats when I write this blog of mine. First and foremost, I manage a small charity in a small Scottish town called Dumfries. Ours is a front door that opens onto the darker corners of the crumbling world that is Britain 2015. We hand out 5000 emergency food parcels a year in a town that is home to 50,000 souls. Then, as you can see from all of the book covers above, I am also a thriller writer. If you enjoy the blog, you might just enjoy the books. The link below takes you to the whole library in the Kindle store. They can be had for a couple of quid each.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Bloody phone in shows

I wrote this ages ago and never got around to posting it. having re-read it I am perfectly happy to stand four square behind all sentiments expressed herein! The image by the way is one of Bromsgrove from whence call in show bastards with names like Kaz seem to all come from. It will all come clear as you read on. Or not.

I mean, why do we bother?

At about five past six on Sunday I climbed into the car after Liverpool 1- Everton 1 and switched on the radio. Why? Am I in the habit of boiling the kettle and pouring over my head? No. Do I tape United winning 4 -0 with Ronaldo getting three and then watch it 32 times with popcorn? No. So I'm not completely daft. And yet I am still mug enough to tune into 606 to be subjected to call after call of absolute and abject shite from so called Reds, most of who seem to be called names like Kaz and live in places like Bromsgrove or Bournmouth. Their moaning message is always crystal clear. Liverpool are in complete and utter crisis and doomed, doomed, doomed. They bleat on about how Rafa should be fired within the hour and nine hundred zillion quid be made available asap to save us. They are all convinced that Man City will overtake us in the next five minutes. And through it all, I get the sense of thousands and thousands of fellow Reds getting wound up like clocks rigged with Semtex and yelling at the radio 'CRISIS, WHAT CRISIS YOU STUPID BROMSGROVE WANKER! YEAH, YEAH. MASSIVE CRISIS. AS IN JOINT TOP OF THE LEAGUE, LAST 16 OF THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE AND FIFTH ROUND OF THE CUP. OH AND BY THE WAY WE'RE ALMOST AT THE END OF JANUARY AND WE'VE ONLY GOT BEAT TWICE IN ALL COMPETITIONS SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST PUT THE PHONE DOWN AND PISS OFF AND BE A MANC!" So you get the picture. Basically it is a case of bastards, bastards, bastards. So do I switch off and bang in a CD? Do I hell. I suffer the bastards from Bromsgrove and Bournmouth all the way out of town and onto the M58 and beyond and harbour dreams of tapping into some hyper CIA technology that could locate the exact position of Kaz in Bromsgrove and then do a Gaza on his house with a Hellfire missile or something. But switch off? No I don't switch off. Which I figure has to go down as self harm

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