What's wrong with this picture?

My soup collection: it's been coming together steadily for about two years, the Ainsley Harroitt pretentious packet soup collection in my desk drawer bottom, an eclectic mix of soup vapours and colouring atoms that populate the space besides my breakfast crackers and one cup coffee sachets. The trouble is that I've lost control of it. It started with a few Stilton and lookalike Leeks, then some Mulligatawny and now it's grown like floppy bunny Topsy into an encyclopedic display of unknown but coded packets of mysterious powders, each one containing the basic ingredients of some exotic soup or other. As they are mixed and anonymous I have to guess or imagine the contents; Carrot and Bamboo Giraffe, Merseyside Mud Pie and Wensleydale, Chicken and Plum with Scrotum Lemon Grass, Suet and Blue Budgerigar, Italian Matto-Grosso with Chick-Pea Turpentine, Seaweed El Greco? Mmm can't wait till lunch time.

Glasgow Rangers RIP: Over in Scotland's favourite city fans have been rocked by the news that their great bigoted and ignorant institution has been quietly run into the ground by a combination of swollen headedness, ineptitude, chronic failure and Karmic consequences. Yes, Rangers FC, now ready for anything including the administrator and are up to their Broxi Burgers in debt. “It's like watching an ill relative that's not going to recover.” said a commentator. More like an ill dictator or despot hanging on the barbed wire or from a lamppost in my view. The fans will of course rally round, sing a few heartfelt and plucky folk songs and then quickly desert the sinking ship as if it was the Costa Concord on a barrel roll. Then as Rangers slink slowly into the West so will the rest of Scottish football along with them as the golden goose chokes. It really should be so easy to succeed at success but then again it's heartening and possibly humbling to know that nobody is too big to fail. I wonder if the SNP will band together and bail them out from the Tesco tax coffers? Maybe one fine day we can all relax, forget about keeping up with the Champions League, the pressures of Sky and stupid salary levels and just play decent and entertaining provincial football that we can all follow set at reasonable prices and within realistic costs.

Science comes to the rescue: Scientists and clever students with Persil white coats and Nike shoes have stumbled upon the elusive mathematical formula that even Leonardo Da Vinci failed to find. In a announcement that will be celebrated by men of a certain age all cross Scotland it's become apparent that the answer to middle aged nasal hair growth and stimulation has been found. Using only a simple Casio calculator and some ex-Post Office rubbers bands scientists have made a full genetic model the predicts and illustrates the possible outcomes and consequences of certain key genes on nasal hair development. “It's a great day for all fashionistas and sufferers,” said Doctor Kelvin Bidet. “No longer will blokes be worried about nasal hair projections, root dysfunction or impulse tweezer purchase from Boots the Chemists, they'll be able to enter in their details on a simple web site and monitor their growth prospects and follicle projections on line.” An Ap for those fiddly about to be obsolete iPhone things is also planned.

Never mind the Snake Oil

Greatsnakes Oil Company Ltd.  From the mouths of babes (or grandchildren): "The old cat's just trying not to die." Never mind your religious snake oil, philosophy, meditations, prayers, petitions, fetishes or argumental political sciences, they won't provide the big payoff you're looking for. As the young man observed in the cat's natural actions, that's all we're really busy doing, trying hard to live and trying equally hard not to die. Enjoy the moment(s).

Wit's lowest forms

Sneezers: Following on from the proposed yawning while driving ban there is a further option to include in this keynote legislation a “sneezing while driving ban”. This is designed to prevent germ ridden drivers from passing their spiky blue bugs onto passengers and the velour upholstery when they sneeze within the confined space of the vehicle’s cabin during any car journey. It’s also intended to prevent the numerous traffic accidents that occur in those few seconds when, in the act of sneezing, eyes are closed tight and any semblanceof normal physical coordination stops. During these critical moments the risk of bird strike, rear ending the car in front or swaying into another busy traffic lane or hapless cyclist is increased by a factor of 17% according to recent studies carried out by the Fellows of the Aberdour University. £100m in ex-Westminster funding might be released to allow the construction of special “Sneeze Zone” lay bys on Scottish trunk roads, the A90, A92, A9, A81 and so on. On motorways drivers will be advised by flashing overhead warning signs to pull over onto the hard shoulder, open their window and sneeze out into the direction of the oncoming traffic.


Professor Finlayson McBeanie from Aberdour advises that this unselfish action will best disperse the cold germs and allow them to fly back to their homes in Norway. A special graphic designed by fun loving graffiti artist and enigmatic attention seeking multi-millionaire Banksy could underline the message for all drivers. The neon telecaster would also be automatically translated into Polish, Hebrew and Esperanto to aid foreign visitors, catering professionals and Welsh tourists. A spokesman for Lothian and Borders Police praised the initiative but also took the opportunity to criticise the inadequate lengths of lady’s skirts and the strange bulbous nature of the modern wine glasses used in trendy bars and at airports. 


“Whilst I’m all for eradicating the careless, lazy, anti social sneezers and exterminating those geriatric drivers over 55 who still think there’s a war on I can’t help but feel that the young girls of today might just be asking for it, particularly when driving in  their pink Fiat 500s and hanging around in establishments like the Dome or Whighams in Edinburgh’s more Bohemian districts.”

Lottery: In other news the SNP government has decreed that ugly people should be discouraged from entering the lottery. “Seeing their stupid, smug, winning faces does nothing to uplift the morale of the common man or woman as the case may be. We don’t want to live in a modern Scotland where the ugly and often overweight are seen to succeed just because they can pick a few numbers or happen to do well with the vague and criminally repetitive lucky dip algorithm. What kind of message does that send out to young mothers and the unemployed?”

Football:  An FA Spokesman and occasional Sky Soccer pundit has said that the England Team really needs an English manager who is “old school and knows best”. This mythical foot-balling saviour should come from solid middle England foot-balling stock with a proven heritage of village idiocy, straw sucking and chronic under achievement. The successful candidate should also have no idea what’s in his bank account and be able to get over emotional at the drop of a Morris Dancer’s straw hat or a ragged Spurs tammy. Tick box application forms are available but they are running out fast. A decent salary and the chance to appear on Breakfast TV defending your corner are only some of the smaller parts of the attractive package on offer. Don’t forget that that this year is yet another Jubilee one so no excuses will be tolerated.

Sexuality Geography:  An independent study has revealed that many lesbian and gay couples are living in ordinary houses all across the UK.

Stop the yawns

I'm not sure that it can be effectively policed but still  I fully support the Scottish Parliament's new proposal to make yawning illegal whilst driving a motor  car. This bold move will not only save lives but will promote a healthier lifestyle, cut out obesity and encourage a far more focused attitude towards that most hazardous of pastimes, driving. It might encourage upright Scots to spend less time fiddling with pointless video games, listening to accordion music and downloading late night porn on their phones as they'll have to  get a decent early night now and again. In an additional piece of legislation listening to "soft" or so called classical music will also be banned mainly because of it's medically proven soporific and growth stunting effects. Also up for prohibition is daydreaming (in colour only) and thinking about things other than driving or the current atrocious traffic conditions. Chewing gum will also be banned because we all know that it's just plain dirty. An unnamed spokesman for the SNP regime later said in a limited release press statement, "we're up for  sorting you lazy bastards out."

Watching out

At last the tension has been broken, the waiting and the interminable watching is over. I've finally managed to buy another car. No more mind numbing late night searches on Gumtree, Autotrader or Ebay, no more wandering about used car lots looking for some unloved and affordable specimen, no more stupid comparison making, no more trying to figure what features I really want and, worst of all, what car is actually cool enough for someone as uncool as me. Now I can get on with doing the things I should be doing,  whatever they are (and of course worrying about clunks, clicks, squeaks and other mystery noises coming from the new to me vehicle).

In other even more tedious news the winter thick vegetable soup diet is currently doing battle with a serious coalition backed cold virus that is determined to gnaw it's way out of my head via my nose. I'm resisting like mad but it's not enough, not yet anyway. Once again the drugs don't really work nor are they even remotely effective.

Always worth remembering...

As a simple soul with no wish to run the risk of trying to say too much via inked in and irremovable body art I might go for a more simple emergency type message like the one below, but in what actual location?

No scallops,

or Penicillin

and don't bother

 with resuscitation.

Then you get into the business of fonts, word layout, kerning, additional graphics and all the rest of it. No wonder most people need to be drunk and be in the middle of some life time crisis beforehand. Hmm, what about punctuation?

Back from Missoni

Functional frame and picture

Functional cupboard

A short stay in a Missoni Hotel and I'm quickly reminded of my age, cynicism and lack of a cosmopolitan background. All the staff are young, non-UK and slightly camp and cheerfully stripy. Each hand picked and groomed to exude style over substance and intelligence but they are still polite, professional and helpful. Those stripes are also a big part of the message. Good design is fine in small doses, it doesn't work so well for me when it's repeated Warhol style to the point of being nonsensical and meaningless, it's dazzling but as unattractive as newsprint. After a while your head aches and you long to be away from the funky ambient music and great red washes and just sit in somewhere disguised as normal  in dull magnolia and old leather. Having said that the bed was very comfy, the room warm and the breakfast slickly produced. What else do you want from a hotel? I just wouldn't want to be paying their facilities management company's bills or be trying to copy their business plan, it's all high maintenance stuff and the edges are beginning to fray.

Tripped out advisor

599 reviews with an average of 4.5 out of 5 but surely the devil is in the detail of the breakfast buffet and the efficiency of the valet parking.  99% of all things will probably be revealed in the fullness of time or something like it.  You just have to wait and see.

My favourite kilt

HuffingtonPost Huffington Post 

Vampire woman takes tattoo expo by storm huff.to/xTXxE7

2 hours ago as you might expect.

The third day of a dismal winter cold that has laid me as low as the couch, I've been stuck there for about an hour, thinking creative and hydrogen filled thoughts that soar up to the ceiling and then spontaneously combust never to be heard of again. At least they were here for a short time. In my more lucid moments I've concocted soup mixtures, driven in the dark, been massaged by cats and managed to get to work. The over arching feeling being that I'm on a long and painful journey into the weekend that I might never quite complete. I always knew I didn't much care for February but I was never sure why, I think now it's because it seems the optimum month for any active germs to attack me and me alone, but now I must move away from these debilitating thoughts and  iron my favourite kilt.

Basic phenomenons of wave physics

Domestic goodness: Stirring green and orange lentils until they swirl, boiling in the pot, gazing into the murky maelstrom as it spins and bubbles adding chopped onions and seasoning. Then come the pre-cut vegetables, whatever is in the bag, homogeneously crisp and anonymous but full of assumed goodness. So the final part of the process, simmer and forget. Consider drinking alcohol, sitting down or cleaning out the cat's litter tray. Perhaps building a fire or just to stare out of the window, flick TV channels and wipe your nose, cut bread with a knife using a sawing motion, post silly pictures on Facebook, fumble over Ebay items, take medicine and plan the next dishwasher campaign. Once these things are done and exhausted the soup will be about ready and you may allow yourself a generous kettleful. You then ask yourself, "will this magical broth from Heaven's deep springs cure my cold and soothe my aches and pains?" No man, no woman and no baby knows.

Straight to vinyl

TV boxes from the back, what are all those extra inputs for?

Thanks to a combination of global warming, food additives, stress related stress and irritable car ventilation syndrome my nose is blocked. This leads to improper (but still effective enough to allow me to function) breathing which sets up a spiral of physiological despair leading to a simple sore throat. Of course I blame the greedy bankers, uncontrolled immigration, shouting sports TV presenters and the great and terrible lizard people who really run the government from converted sewers. They're out to get me and all the other common little people who have dirt under their fingernails and freakishly short inside leg measurements. The only known antidote is the antidote, if only I could find that secret phial. Could it be in Fife Fish Pie, sponge pudding surprise or just be hidden in lashings of warm alcohol?

As I'm at a winter induced low point health wise I sought solace in my old friend and sparring partner;  statistics. The warm glow of looking over added up and processed numbers and pleasantly repeating numerical patterns should do the trick, and it does. I've also broken my duck on using XL for Mac, it almost works and it's leading me straight to vinyl.