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My first run in the longest time.

I’m really happy today. I’ll get to why later but for so long, this song has been spinning around in my head. It didn’t make sense particularly; it is about the love between a son and his father, particularly emphasising just how captivated the boy is by his father – overtly a beautiful charming sentiment. I’ve always loved this song, ever since I first heard it and every once in a while when I feel particularly positive about life, I feel its words tumbling from my lips. God knows, I’ve never had the best relationship with my father but I guess I must still love him on some level. You should watch it, just to have an idea of how I’m feeling at the moment.

So this morning having finished what seemed like an incessant weekend of nights, I apprehensively made my way to the gym. You’ll recall that feeling you have when you’re a girl and you’re about to embark on your first sexual encounter and everyone has told you about “the pain” and you’re so worried about “the pain”, that all you do is think about “the pain” and ultimately what results is what is essentially a prolonged (or not) friction tolerance test; not enjoying it whatsoever? Well me neither, but I imagine that’s how it must feel. I really didn’t want that pain again.

When I got to the gym, it was already pretty busy and I was lucky to get onto one treadmill; ensconced between a candidate for the world’s largest man doing his best to test the weight threshold on the machine and a petite brunette girl (bitch), donned head to toe in lycra who casually glared at me for reasons unknown. I made a mental note of this and later during my run, I was careful to shake my head towards her periodically, showering her in some of my man sweat. At one point I draped my sweaty palms across her stupid face causing her to lose balance and fly from the machine into a strategically placed dumbbell behind. No no, I kid, I didn’t actually shake my head towards her.

So I ran, and no pain! I cannot articulate how relieved that made me. My vocabulary is incapable of construing the equal quotients of relief and happiness I feel at present. Of course, there is a degree of apprehension but, no matter, I will take it easy and carry on with those ridiculous ITB exercises and hopefully, I can bore you with some more running stats! For those of you who don’t care, neither do I. Piss off.

So I ran 5k (3.16 miles) in 26 minutes 53 seconds. Average pace was some 8.34 miles/minute which is nowhere near where I have been or want to be but I care not. I’m back! Here are my splits:

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Not brilliant, as I say but it felt good to do all the same. My fitness has simply plummeted to the ground however. This is my heart rate throughout.

Screen shot 2013-04-22 at 20.44.02Look at that! Almost 180bpm with an average of about 178bpm throughout. To put it in perspective, previously I was running at a rate of 140bpm at my shorter faster runs. Absolutely incredible to see how much a few months can reduce overall aerobic capacity.

So anyway, I’m back. Back again. Shady’s back – well he can fuck off. I fucking hate Eminem.

 

 

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Hungry hungry Suarez

Well, Luis Suarez got a bit bitey in that last match didn’t he? I’m not going to use this post to remind you what an awful human being he is (because fuck me, he really is), but to dedicate it to some of the more important issues that resulted. The puns.

Players on the Suarez Menu:
Aaron Hamsey
Mcdonald Mariga
Andy Carrot
Bacary Lasagna

The fang’s favourite…

13/2 for Player of the Year. Might be worth a nibble.

Suarez gives Liverpool some added bite.

Liverpool are toothless with Suarez.

Disgraceful. Luis Suarez is not being fed enough. Just £2 a month can get enough for him to stop eating footballers.

Sky are making an absolute meal of this…

Previewers have been saying “This one promises to be very tasty” about this game all year.

Suarez fights tooth and nail for Liverpool.

If it looks like a rat and bites like a rat. Its a RAT!

Chelsea were bitten by the hand that fed them.

Liverpool will send him to Chewwentus by the end of the season. That or Bayern Munching.

Branislav Ivanovic. Now there’s a mouthful.

Ivanovic is good but I couldn’t eat a whole one.

26.2 miles around London and a Plasticine faced chef

The London Marathon is on Sunday. This is normally something I find reason to get excited at, but for all intents and miserable purposes, I’m not too enthused this year. It might be because this is the third time in three years that my application has been rejected from the very outset, without any sense of indecision. I have been suspecting racial bias for some time now and am contemplating writing my expose in the coming weeks and blowing this thing out of the water. It might be that I am still slightly injured with this bothersome Ilio Tibial Band Syndrome (ITBS), which seems to be determined in tearing out any satisfaction that I might yet have gleaned in life and cheerily pissing all over it, in front of my stupid sobbing face, arse cheeks flapping in the wind. Well no, it’s probably not either of those things. What it will be though, reader, is the fact that I can expect, without any shadow of doubt the casual entry to the race of any number of inconsequential celebrity oxygen thiefs; so deprived of merit or worth, I cannot bring myself to even think of their names. Like Gordon Ramsey. You know Gordon Ramsey? Well that is the degree of unrelenting cuntage we are dealing with. I can’t stand that man and his plasticine face and the simple thought of him and his merry brigade of nobodies taking part in the marathon year upon year, troubles me more than words can say. In my mind, I am hoping that someone has the sense to tie all their shoelaces togther at the start of the race, so when the pistol fires to set the runners off, they all fall flat on their faces in earned stupid unison. Whether anyone will do that, I just don’t know, but I can hope.

In more positive news, since my recent interview has now been left in the hands of the Gods and Luther Van Dross, I can begin running again. I have put it off for long enough. These are mutually exclusive events I should add; the lack of running was due to the aforementioned ITBS and not because I am the kind of pillock who needs to take a breather from something they are apparently passionate about everytime they wake up with a bad hair day (I should add, for all of you who believe in bad hair days; they are not bad hair days – you just have shit hair. Ditto passports. Stop saying “My passport photo makes me look terrible, you mustn’t see it.” I have news. THAT PICTURE IS AN UNEQUIVOCAL MATCH FOR YOUR STUPID FACE. It is irrefutably you. Your picture is not ugly, my friend, you were just not made for the close up.)

In any case, next week I shall gingerly begin running again, in apprehension of that dull ache in the right side of my leg and of course I shall be letting you all know how things are getting on. I know my fitness must be shot to pieces, having now not run for the best part of two months. I feel more unfit than a 90 year old asthmatic grandmother going down on her grandude with wheezy vigour, choking on her ill fitting dentures. Pass the inhaler.

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Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.

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One of my favourite scenes from one of my favourite films, (covering one of my favourite songs) in the last 10 years. The original medley is a show tune from a production called Pal Joey, which I have never seen, but I think it’s about a gentleman called Joey. I may be wrong. The website youku, wouldn’t let me embed the song, for reasons unknown. Also, I should add, the reason I didn’t take the equivalent clip from youtube, is that the video looks like it has been filmed using a one eyed toaster. I have more pixelations on my pixelated penis then that entire clip in general. I’m just saying – I’m not making a reference to being endowed or anything and I’ve certainly not become more oriental in the last few days so to have me wondering on far east web pages. I have no idea what is going on over there.

This song, moves me like no other. Ella’s voice speaks for itself and resonates through my screen as if she were sat here singing to me in person. I have always loved Ella Fitzgerald but there are times when I love her more than others and this lazy late morning might just be one of those occasions. The recording is peppered with idiosyncrasies and intentional errors, which make it just that much more endearing. Perhaps also the only song in the history of popular music which references words like “dyspeptic” and “anti-septic,” and manages to sound genuine. A fantastic piece of recording history.

The History Boys for those of you who are unfamiliar, is one of the greatest, most unsung British films (based on an Alan Bennet play) of the last decade. As someone who is oddly obsessed with the 80’s, the tone of the film is beautifully set in working class Sheffield, following the dreams of eight boys on their quest to gain entry to the elite universities of Oxford and Cambridge, whilst grappling with their sexuality, each others, poetry, paedophillia, literature and of course history. The one thing that ruins this film for me somewhat is the addition of James Corden as the chubby Timms. As a sane and rational human bean, I cannot help but take a profound dislike to this man. A sincere, bilious and dedicated dislike to him. He is also a West Ham FC fan, so that does not entirely help matters. In any case, he does little to take away from the film in general. It is in general a droll and delightful affair and makes me want to go and listen to the Smiths at full blast whilst riding around on my Chopper before the dawning realisation that Morrissey is an unashamed hypocritical genius racist, thus bringing the episode to a close. There’s always one isn’t there. Here are some of my favourite quotes from the film.

Mrs Linott – “Actually I wouldn’t have said he was sad. I would’ve said he was cunt-struck.”
Hector – “Dorothy!”
Mrs Linott – “I’d have thought you’d like that. It’s a compound adjective. You like compound adjectives.”

“History, it’s just one fucking thing after another.”

“Durham was very good for history. It’s where I had my first pizza. Other things too, of course, but it’s the pizza that stands out.”

Dakin – “Lecher though one is – or aspires to be – it occurs to me that a lot of women cannot be easy, who must suffer such inexpert male fumblings, virtually on a daily basis. Are we scarred for life, do you think?”
Scripps – “We must hope so.”

Scripps – “You complacent fuck.”
Dakin – “Does the Archbishop of Canterbury know you speak like this?”

Mrs Lintott – “History is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. What is history? History is women following behind with a bucket.”

The Boston Marathon and the inevitable castigation of Islam and Muslims

Two days ago several explosives tore into, what was supposed to be the finishing line in one of the world’s most recognised and beloved marathons, converting one of the most enjoyable moments in the sporting calendar, to a requiem of grief and sorrow.

Speaking as an international observer, I can only empathise as to how Bostonians might be feeling at this time. To inflict such a brutal attack on an event without political affiliation is truly deplorable and I hope for a quick and speedy recovery to all of those who were injured in the attacks and an ultimate resolution to this unpleasant affair.

This aside, America reacted with familiar prejudice in the ensuing hours following the event. With literal moments having passed, conservative commentators were calling for the death of all muslims, declaring Jihad in America and calling for reform to the recently revised immigration reform. How ironic. A young Saudi man, whose biggest crime was apparently to have attended the event and been injured in it subsequently, was rugby tackled as he fled the post blast commotion. This man was flanked in hospital whilst recovering from his injuries by the FBI, questioned, mentioned as a suspect, arrested and then released in a bizarrely discriminatory fashion. No such treatment was entitled to any of the other injured patients.

The American and indeed general Western media driven demonisation of Muslims is no new thing and shows considerable and repeated oversights, with no suggestion of correction or balance. The Oslo Massacre in 2011 was peddled over and again as having been the action of muslims until Anders Breivik was sentenced. Ditto Oklahoma City in 1995. Observer bias is a persistent characteristic of western media platforms and from the moment that two planes flew into the World Trade Centre towers, the script was written.

The 2010 Terrorism Situation and Trend Report reveals some, perhaps surprising statistics on international terrorism in the European Union. In 2009, there were 294 incidents reported as terrorism. Of those 294 incidents, 237 were carried out by European separatists. Another 40 attacks were performed by anarchistic parties. 1 of these 294 were performed by a muslim group. Let me put this in another way. 0.34% of attacks were caused by muslims. David Rapoport, an expert on terrorism, referred to a current wave of terrorism neutralisation based on religion and ethnicity inspired directly as a result of that fateful 2001 morning.

I don’t expect to see any changes in the coming months or years, simply because I am not an idiot. I know more than to assume anything different in the indoctrinated eyes of the western media. What I cannot fathom however, is the unrelenting self-sympathetic agenda of the American people. On the same day as the Boston Marathon, 33 Iraqis died and 160 were injured as a result of political unrest in the middle east, a direct result of American foreign policy. 200,000 civilian men, women and children have died as a result of the ongoing conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over 2,000 Pakistanis have died as a result of American operated drone strikes since 2004. Where are the interviews with these families? Where is the media haranguing of the western politicians responsible for these relentless atrocities? Can we be assured that Obama will not rest until he has brought the perpetrators of those events, aka himself, to justice? I imagine not.

Of course, there is every chance this might be the result of a Muslim attack and for that I cannot condemn it on strong enough terms. This however does not excuse the shameless agenda to point the finger in a brown face at every turn.

As a member of the human race, I feel saddened by the news of any death inflicted by intentional violence. It is a sad world we live in, where the colour of your skin and location of your death is considered of notable precedence.

Origami or not to be.

A lot of you, dear readers, will not be aware of the talent I have for folding paper, in a way that’s just pretentious enough to make the rest of you feel inadequate. Of course, I am not beyond sharing this ancient art with yourselves, but be warned; the obnoxiousness and superior attitude takes years of practice and application. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. So anyway here we go:

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1. You’re going to need a pretentious desk first. I suggest an Ikea one – because no one else will have one of those.

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2. Next grab yourselves some paper. It doesn’t have to be a leaflet, selling property refurbishments but this was the closest thing to me for the purposes of this article. I’m proper lazy. #jeah

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3. Fold the edge furthest from you in a clockwise manner so it lies perpendicularly to the left lateral edge. This is an important step girl.

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4. Fuck you.

Jim Carrey and what he doesn’t know about Vaccinations

Jim Carrey’s a pretty funny guy. I grew up watching him cavort across my screen in all manner of ludicrous performances, like a drunkard mongoose and regardless of whether the film was good or not, I usually found some favour within it. I would still count Dumb & Dumber amongst my all time favourite films and I have lost count of the number of times I have watched the convulsing police officer drink Lloyd’s bodily excretions; you simply cannot put a price on physical comedy. Carrey subsequently did what most OH-MY-GOD-I’M-SO-RICH-LET’S-URINATE-ON-EACH-OTHER-FOR-FUN actors in his position do and shacked up with the first female he saw with a halfway decent face and ample mammary glands. Unfortunately for him however, this happened to be Jenny McCarthy, idiot extraordinaire (I’m not sure if that’s her official title). Why? Well, put simply Dr Jenny feels contrary to almost universal scientific opinion, and links vaccinations to autism. Her and Carrey’s views are by no means unusual – by any account, the world is inundated with morons. What makes their moronity particularly noteworthy, is their irrefutable office in the tabloid auditorium. People listen to them.

Edward Jenner, the father of immunology initiated an almighty shift in the management of communicable preventable diseases, when he inoculated a 6 year old boy suffering with smallpox, with pus from a cowpox pustule. The boy was cured and the first vaccination had taken place. In 1979, the World Health Organisation (WHO) declared Smallpox an obsolete diagnosis. It had been removed from the spectrum of human disease. Let me reiterate – Jenner had made a considerable dent in the removal of short people in our world. Of course there are those that still remain and they are recognisably irritable and obstreperous but the problems of knowing where you’re going to keep them, what you’re going to feed them and how often you’re meant to take them out for a walk are issues of the past. Because of Jenner, the world is a taller place.

Next on the agenda of disease eradication is Poliomyelitis, a mortally inflicting neurological disease which although holds no cure, is confidently preventable by means of the Polio vaccine. Via means of a concerted and applaudable effort from the WHO, the condition has been cut down with devastating precision to the tune of a 99% reduction in incidence and today only three unfortunate countries are claimed as endemic – Afghanistan, Pakistan and Nigeria. Considerable headway had been made to declare the disease obsolete by 2018 via the Global Polio Eradication Initiative, until some ominous reports of the murder of vaccination volunteers emerged from North Pakistan. Astonishingly, both the CIA and the Taliban were implicated but the program has pressed on regardless. Maybe that manner of response was to be expected, maybe not, I really don’t know. In either case it makes for disconsolate reading.

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Let’s be clear; no child born today should be die before their fifth birthday. The communicable preventable diseases that once rendered childhood a formidable and precarious journey are exactly that – preventable. Our resources should be extended from the affluent surpluses of the entitled, to the provision of improved public health for women and children, the world over. Our efforts should counter the dire inequalities our political constructs have established and give every human on this planet a chance to live.

Only not according to McCarthy. Not according to Carrey. Citing anecdotal evidence concerning the constituents of vaccinations and an association to autism, celebrities in the anti-life lobby feel qualified to unsettle a lifetime of immeasurable action taken on behalf of the medical community to rid the world of communicable diseases. Quite where or how this competence was attained has escaped me and if anyone has an idea I’d be extremely grateful for some input. Please email me at fuckjimcarrey@SMOKIN.com. I don’t know – maybe McCarthy felt a need to point a finger of blame, given her kid has autism. Perhaps Jim Carrey had nothing better to do. Perhaps they stumbled across the work of a very refined sort of pleb, Andrew Wakefield. Let’s talk about him.

Andrew Wakefield was an English Surgeon working at the Royal Free Hospital in London when he made the eye brow raising association between the Measles Mumps and Rubella (MMR) vaccination and autism. I say eye-brow raising because that’s all we do in England really – raise eyebrows. We lack the capacity for full blown animation, but trust me, beneath those eye-brows, we were climbing across the ceilings. In a paper published in The Lancet in 1998, Wakefield suggested that a link was to made between the rising incidence of autism and possibly inflammatory bowel disease and the use of the MMR vaccination was of blame. Via succeeding reports, he advocated a triple stage vaccination, with each component of MMR given at separate intervals. The medical community went ballistic. Parents who had already been sat on the fence, jumped well and truly off into a lifetime of poor decision making on behalf of their hapless children. I was too young to be aware of what was happening at this point, so I can’t tell you what my reaction was. It probably wasn’t too constructive, I assure you.

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Anyway, what Wakefield omitted to mention was the following. Several years prior to his ludicrous paper, he had been hired by a solicitor called Richard Barr who had intentions of bringing a class action law suit against the manufacturers of the MMR vaccine. The idea of this collaboration was to bring the vaccine into disrepute. Around the same sort of time, Wakefield craftily pitched in his own vaccine patent for Measles and made his merry way to the bank, laughing malevolently and rubbing his hands with glee. I might have made that last part up. In either case Andrew Case was a very naughty man. In the end, following some remarkable investigative journalism, Wakefield was exposed for the twat he was and his medical career was swiftly ended, at which point he fled to the US to be embraced with open arms by the anti-vaccination lobby. Americans eh? All of this I could probably ignore, I possess the necessary requirements of apathy, but this is where the situation really begins to stink. His original paper was based on un-ethically conducted investigations on 12 children. TWELVE CHILDREN. Is that a representative population? Where is the sample size calculation? What was the inclusion criteria? What was the p value? WHAT’S WITH THE SHITTY STATS BRAH? I can put up with a lot but I have no time for poor mathematics. No time whatsoever.

Every 2o seconds a child will die of a vaccine preventable disease. 17% of the global mortality of children under the age of 5 will be due to innocuous causes. There are 30 million children in the world today who are at risk of never having the chance to live due to failure to vaccinate. The issue is one of poverty and inequality, of inhumane politics. Not of celebrity science. If a parent fails to vaccinate their children, their stupidity is not simply reflected upon their own unfortunate child, but also that of the community their child resides in. Herd immunity will only get you so far. The Anti-Vaccination Body Count have set up an online graphic representation of the lack of insight by Carrey, McCarthy and co, in an simultaneously hilarious and tear-jerking affair. To summarise, since 2007 there have been 113918 preventable illnesses in America, the result of failing to vaccinate and a further 1126 deaths. As of 2007, there have been no directly causal diagnoses of autism made following vaccination. Not a single one.

With respect to Jim, I’ll look forward to his next film, if he ever tries to make another. I’ll laugh at the funny bits and leave the cinema, having thrown a palpable portion of my pay cheque at some faceless multinational, thereby placating the conditioned materialistic part of my mind for the best part of several hours. Consumerism – Woo! As for vaccinations, 1.5 million children will die this year because of preventable diseases and that, is no laughing matter.