Log in

No account? Create an account

Fencing Sculptor's Diary

The Ramblings of a Reluctant Civil Servant

Do What Son? Pardon? Come again ?
My very absent grade 6 is pinging me stuff from home saying she hasn't got time to do it.


Newsflash , neither do I ! She's started using latin as well *Oi vay*

I don't speak latin.

I got 7% in my last latin exam about 26 years ago.

One of the very few Latin phrases I know is Liberate mae ex inferis

I am minded to reply to her e-mail and tag it onto my eco-townificationisation signature......

Fiery the angels fell; deep thunder rolled around their shores;
I have been watching various theatrical releases of Ridley Scott's seminal film (aren't they all?!) Blade Runner, and watching some fascinating deleted scenes and unfilmed story board sequences.

Vast numbers of articles, and indeed books, have been written about which is the best version and countless documentaries filmed by greasy quiffed critics examining what should and should not have been included.... and fans hold entrenched views about their preferred versions.

Me I want it all in there, keep the narrative, bung in the deleted scenes of Holden in the incubator, restore the unicorn sequence, include the newly filmed shots with Joanna Cassidy, go back and film the scenes that never made it off the storyboards and leave the fwuffy ending in there (knicked as it was, from Kubricks 'The Shinning') because I like it that Rachael and Deckard left Los Angeles to head north and live out their lives together (….not just coz I'm a big old softee at heart, but because that genuinely fits with the film......I don't normally like added on endings following test audience screenings)

So, to my mind, there's still another version to be released...

and it's all, sublime beautiful and atmospheric and I love every single bit of it.....

Catherine Jenkins sings Pop including Evenesance...
...Whitney Houston, Céline Dion and Barbra Streisand...

...just why ?!

Writer's Block: War and peace
Many countries require all citizens to fulfill a mandatory period of service in the armed forces. Do you agree or disagree with this policy? Do you think the current recruitment system creates or sustains socioeconomic inequality?

I suspect many citizens in the UK would benefit, as would society in the long term , if National Service was reintroduced. I disagree with the concept of sending unwilling combatants to war, but those serving their Nat. Serv. could be trained to more than adequately perform the Logistic, HR, pay an other 'safer' rolls within the military.

The skills, fitness, self discipline respect and values learned in the armed forces would make for a more cohesive, tolerant healthy British society.

Sadly its not a UK vote winner. It will never happen unless the country is so threatened that the public itself push for it.

All the Exploding-Fatwa-Pixies in the sandy places of the world are unlikely to be able to bring that about.....

Hedgehogstarspangle and the Rock-badgers
Someone should really form that group.

I think they'd be big.

Bloody Nasty People
I try to avoid the populist media when ever I can because whenever I do happen to look at it I am confronted by the thoroughly revolting likes of Jordon, or Lilly Allen or Mika banging on about how they’re really misunderstood and that if I only buy their book/record/scent/used brain cell and took the time to appreciate them I’d realise that they were just normal just like me .

I bloody well hope not.

Normal yeah right because everyone in my neighbourhood wanders around with 25kg of silicone in each breast and drive a Pink Pony Wagon and has the intellectual capacity of a cracked house brick.

Well that last bit’s true actually, but I digress.

No, I loathe all that reality crap and do my very utmost to avoid it all. Therefore it’s been annoying in the extreme, that for the last fortnight BBC Radio 4 has covered precious little else other than the appearance on Question time this week of Nazi fascist pin up Nick Griffin. And dearo me hasn’t Aunty got her knickers in a twist.

I can’t see what the problem is myself the BNP are such a thoroughly nasty insidious bunch of fcuking halfwits far from censoring them they should be given every opportunity to demonstrate what a vicious evil bunch of narrow minded petrified pitiable bullies they really are.

I was thrilled to hear that the European Courts have forced the BNP to overturn their ‘whites only’ membership policy – fantastic - it’s just a shame that every person of ethnic descent in Britain didn’t phone up the next day to join the party and ask for tickets to their annual conference.

There’s nothing I’d like to see more than every bald, fat, tattooed, mentally deficient, knuckle dragging England shirt wearing thugs, outnumbered 10 to 1 by hardworking sweet 70 year old sari wearing Indian Grandmothers telling the BNP hierarchy that the could solve Englands chavtastic unemployment problems by employing Happy Slappy Hoodies to work for 13 hours a day in their corner shops for the minimum wage. It would make a change from having the yoof engaging in their usual occupation of hanging around outside the corner shops sharing spliffs and a SPARs own brand larger, generally cluttering up the place claiming benefits and farting out grasping little fatherless brats by the dozen.

My main fear is that when these hoofing arsewits are given their 15 minutes of fame the show will be hijacked by toffee-nosed middle class liberals from Hampstead and Chelsea banging on about how they don’t want their the minds of their darling offspring Rupert and Chlamydia to be polluted by such bigoted views being aired in the media. And that’s the point every one spends so much time jostling to prove that they have the moral high ground that the message gets lost and everyone decends to the same contemptible level.

Far more sensible would be let the arseweasels say their piece, then have the sane rational members of society smile witheringly, say “ah bless” and then move the debate on to the actual issues involved.
As for the BNP s tactic of trying to hijack the good name of Britain's military by suggesting that they somehow are the natural representatives of Britains ex Service men and women …fook right off !

If that’s the way they want to play I suggest we find out where every last ****ing one of the fascist bastards live and move a Ghurkha and his entire family in next door……

Fuzzy Logic....
I didn't really achieve very much at work yesterday and on balance probably won't achieve a great deal today. I mean it's quite unlikely that there'll be any more eco-towns by close of play tonight than there were say...last week. Under these circumstances if being at work isn't going to make any difference , they don't actually need me in the office do they?...
and I could just stay under this duvet....

Could someone pass me a warm PBG ?

Thanks awfully.

Sort Your Evidence base out, and Peer Test your Conclusions Numb Nuts.
Supposably ten years into the new century we are the generation that’s going to live longer than any preceding generations. We have better standards of living, longer projected life spans, raised awareness of healthy lifestyles, medical care that is more technologically superior to any other point in history.

And now HMG says we’re going to have to pay for the privilege.

I wouldn’t have a major problem with that if it were true, but scientifically you see …it’s all a load of bollocks.

This is because given the overwhelming evidence of childhood and adult obesity, the misuse of recreational drugs (including alcohol and tobacco), and STDs and all the mental and physical implications thereof (diabetes, degenerative brain disease, heart disease, STDs) I see little evidence that we have arrived in Utopia, and therefore would like, most wholeheartedly, not to have to pay for it , thank you very much.

I would however like the civil Service to be armed and permitted in law to dispense summary justice.

Thank you very much. Carry on….

Millennium Bug
It's hard to believe the TV series Millennium is nearly 13 years old.

"I become capability. I become the horror. What we know we can become only in our heart of darkness. It's my gift. It's my curse"

It's strange looking at recent publicity material of Lance Henriksen to see that he's now an old man.

How did that happen ?

He's so young as Shakespeare in Close Encounters...

Ghost Story
Well apparently I can rise to caddyman's challenge to write a 500 word ghost story based on a song Lyric, because here it is coming in at 500 words. I wonder if anyone will be able to guess the Lyric ?

31 October 2009

Sharon looked out the grimy kitchen window at the rubbish strewn garden, it was raining hard and the wind was tugging at carrier bags caught in a pile of old bricks and a rusty Yamaha engine. She touched her swollen lip feeling the chipped tooth below. The bruises were fading but she couldn’t afford the dentist.

It was Ricky’s fault. He was a thug. He’d left, but the pain remained. She looked down at the claw marks scratched into the kitchen cabinets. Ricky and his evil doberman dog.

A hungry baby screamed in the corner, and from the living room she could hear screeching tyres and gunshots as young James played on a games console.

There was a violent banging on the front door, followed by an eerie silence.

Fear gripped her, she peeped around the kitchen door to see a familiar figure silhouetted against the glass, shoulders hunched menacingly. She heard her stomach growl with fear. At least she thought it was her stomach. She reached the door, fumbled the latch, hands trembling, eyes stinging with tears, biting her bruised lip.

She opened the door.

From behind her came an audible snarl, a menacing growl and the unmistakable sound of claws on lino.

She spun round still holding the partially opened door. Behind her the shadow of a dog darted across the hallway into the kitchen where the baby was screaming again. She turned panic-stricken to the dog’s owner. The doorway was empty.

A silent scream tore from her throat as she ran to her baby.
She skidded into the kitchen expecting to see the vicious animal’s head in the pram.


At the front of the house a child screamed, “Mammy!”

She started to run, but slipped on something. Dog-drool?

She ran, clipped her head on the kitchen doorframe. Blood freely flowing, she clattered into the living room.


Outside, the garden gate banged violently in the wind. Suddenly she heard screeching brakes, the sound of a bonnet crumpling, a windscreen shattering and a sickening bone-crunching thud of a child against tarmac.

A car door opened and a woman’s horrified scream tore through the wind and rain.

Sharon reached the front door. She saw it all. She felt weak, vomited and collapsed on the floor screaming.

Epilogue: 31 July 2010

Summer sunlight streamed through the courtroom and particles of dust glinted.

“…return an open verdict, as the cause of death is unclear due to the presence of a ‘class A’ drug and severe wounds to the stomach and abdomen, inflicted by the canine following the discovery of the body of Richard Ross in an abandoned flat on the Clydeside Estate on October 15.”

The sunlight was warm on the delicately freckled skin of her forearm.

“...council confirm that the dog was destroyed two weeks later on 29 October…”

The young journalist realised she hadn’t been concentrating, distracted by thoughts of her lunch date. She straightened her skirt, folded her notebook and left the court.