I can't quit you babe...

...so I think I'm gonna put you down for a while

Pictures where his money used to be...

Been looking for a Father's Day card for (surprisingly enough) my Dad.

Whilst we all know such days are blatant commercial opportunities, I certainly don't begrudge buying a card with a wee present to go with it - and I don't always wait until Father's Day to do it. That said, I do find it highly frustrating trying to find a card which doesn't fall into one of the four categories I believe are stipulated under UK law.

Category 1: Schmaltzy sentimentality
Usually depicting something like a large pair of shoes sat next to a small pair of shoes (or similar) shot in an oh-so-arty, slightly out-of focus way. Often in black and white.

Category 2: Sports
A huge, stupid cartoon trophy with "No.1 Dad" or something written on it, usually with a golf or... ahem... "footie" (yawn!) theme. Yeah, because all dads are Alan Partridge-esque bores obsessed with sport, aren't they?

Category 3: Rude
Crap "funny" ones referring to sex/cocks or often being disrespectful to mums. This category also includes those awful ones along the lines of, "You're a big, fucking old bastard... but I love you."

Category 4: Beer
Probably the category which annoys me more than any other. Always with some kind of sub-Purple Ronnie/Bang On The Door amateur-ish cartoon depicting some grinning balloon-faced twat holding aloft a big, stupid, frothy pint. Aye, let's use this tedious, early 1990's student humour to celebrate the fucking pot-bellied wasters who fuck off down the boozer at every opportunity leaving the mums to, not only, entertain the bored kids, but also have the fucking dinner ready on the table.

Sigh. Why does life have to be so difficult?

The staircase (mystery)

Q. What do you do when the interior of your house suddenly decides to reconfigure itself?



A. Completely ignore it and carry on as if it has always been that way.



Coronation Street - Friday's fantastic photo

The lucky place for fruit

Grrr. I fucking love yogurt. I can't get enough of it.

If I'm having a standard sized "pot", I find that one is simply not enough and will happily trough my way through at least two in one go. I'm partial to a Müller Light (or three) and at least they come in fairly big pots as standard.

I'm not sure what kickstarted this particular penchant, but (needless to say) I have a feeling it all stems from my pre-teen years in the 1970s.

Yogurts were such a rarity in our house and the frisson of excitement I remember we felt when my Mum occasionally returned from Fine Fare at St Leonards or Woolies' food hall with some of these dairy treats is, to this day, indescribable.

Our yogurt of choice in those days was Ski; a brand (now owned by Nestle?) which is still very much alive and kicking, but largely overlooked in today's marketplace dominated by the likes of (Mmm) Danone and the aforementioned Müller. I used to like the pre-'80s shape of the Ski yogurt pot - it was wider at the bottom than at the top - which struck me as quite unusual.

I don't really remember ever having St Ivel's Prize yogurts, but I know I was particularly taken by the Prize Guys stop-frame adverts. So, here for your delectation - via the medium of lazy YouTube embedding [copyright Avenues and Alleyways 2006-2009] - is a typical example from the era. Sorry, I've no idea whether this originates from the '70s or '80s, but it should bring back a few memories nonetheless...

Just think... war breaks out and nobody turns up

It's 5 March 1984 and the man standing in the front row, second to the left, is my Dad.

He and his colleagues are outside Comrie Colliery in Fife, listening to a speech given by Arthur Scargill. It's the eve of the year-long miners' strike and the very day on which the National Coal Board announced that twenty mines were to close with the loss of around 20,000 jobs.

This is a screen grab I've taken from a report which featured on that day's lunchtime edition of Scotland Today. I didn't see it as I was at school, but my Mum did and I'm delighted to have finally found it online after a quarter of a century. If memory serves, that week's copy of The Dunfermline Press featured the story heavily and there was a big picture of my Dad and his workmates slapped right across the front page.

The scary thing here is that my Dad was 35 in that clip - two years younger than I am now. At the time, I was still about five months away from my 13th birthday and, oddly, it still only feels like yesterday.

Withering news

Say it ain't so.

As The Apprentice reaches its Series Five climax tonight, it has just been announced that Margaret Mountford - queen of the withering look - is leaving!

Whilst there is a sixth series - as well as a new "junior" version - lined up for 2010, maybe this really is the beginning of the end. Everybody knows the real stars of The Apprentice are Nick and Margaret and their role has built up magnificently over the years.

Time will tell whether Margaret's replacement will be any good, but as far as I'm concerned, The Apprentice won't be quite the same ever again.

Summer's gone... winter's in your eyes

Hope you enjoyed the summer.

Big Brother (10) starts tonight and suddenly everything feels very cold indeed.

Davina and all your hangers-on... go fuck yersels.