SkyNEWS Gaffe

errrr, whatever

on winkle pickers

"these dark corners in our black economy"

you wouldn't get me going up to Morecambe to look for winkles

Mavis! You're joking

Mavis an intergalatic monster in Doctor Who, my universe wobbles on the turtle's back. There are others from that strange universe of Coronation Street that I was very suspicious of being shape-shifters and the walking undead; Albert Tatlock was one, that grumpy, unsmiling git; the malevolence of Ena Sharples and the world destroying hair net, we almost had her with the bridge and the heart of darkness, Minnie Caldwell and her evil acoylyte, Bobby the ginger cat.

Walrus To Give Labour 'Is All

Lie back labour darling, I've got me urges and I have to give you me all.














Ooooooooooooooooooh he's so masterful

Rottweiler on the Loose in Manchester

Grooooooooooooooooooowl Wooooooooooooooooooooffff snarl gurrrrr ID Cards, ggggerrrrrrowwwll International Terrorist Threat, wooooooooooooooof wooooooooooooooof stoke the fears of terrorism, whine snuffle GROWL asylum seekers, woooooooooooooooof woooooof detention without trial, snarrrrrrl, mad red eyes, growlllllll make protest illegal, growwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwlllllllll bite rip and rend Brian Haw wooooooooooooofff howl I don't want to be PM but if you insist hhooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwllllllll

Three Goons

Three men entranced by Clinton.

Beering and Nuttiness

The advert is about crisps making you fat, so why don't they have a porker glugging on the cooking oil. Why do we have a photogenic model slurping on the oil? Let's have a chronically fat person on the poster, somebody we can identify with. Let's have Johnny Vegas or Phil Jupitas ("My Body Mass Index is 400 and when the nurse checks my blood pressure she runs away screaming 'he's going to blow'" or something like that on the News Quiz Radio 4 September 22) on that poster or is the problem that they might make it look a little bit too much fun and the British Heart Foundation (i love the way they say Don't Try This At Home on their site) or the nanny state don't want us naughty girls and boys to enjoy our tucker too much, or cigarettes, or drink.

Hang on a minute aren't we getting contradictory messages from the government. I love the way Blair and his Buggers bang on about burgers and obesity but really all they're worried about is the bottom line, the NHS is in crisis so stop the fatties having operations when they keel over with a heart attack, surely they've paid their taxes and they have a right to keel over with a heart attack whenever they want to.

And what's all this about smoking? Stop smoking oh please stop smoking, and if we do how will they make up the shortfall in taxes that smokers lovingly donate to their future care?

Drinking: oh please don't binge drink but we'll open up the pubs so you can sit around having late night discussions like satre and de beauvoir did about philsosophy and stuff, but usually it's more like Ollie Reed on a late night chat show marching around with his trousers around his ankles pissed to the gills. Anyway jean-paul and simone usually ended up arguing about how many of their students they'd slept with and pretending it didn't matter coz they were mature philosophers so it wasn't important where their smelly bits had been. I would have liked to see Ollie Reed arm wrestling JP Satre to see who was right about philosophy. I'm pretty sure Beering and Nuttiness would win out.

Virgin High Speed Bollox

The Fat Controller at Virgin Trains inflates himself like a malignant toad and croaks "Hurrah, it's a great day for British locomotion. One of our super-fast trains has hurtled from Glasgow to London in the astounding time of 3 hours 55 mins. A record! Let all rejoice. Three cheers for Virgin, Hip Hip...."

"Errrrrmm Mr Fat Controller Sir, Sir please Sir!"

"What is it??" "Do you have a ticket to be here?" "Who are you?"

"Reginald Sir, I collect Train numbers when you let me. And I have me ticket 'ere, look it's a super-advanced only to be ordered at 06.15am -06.17am on a Friday in a month with five Thursdays. It's a bit of a collector's piece, Sir, look."

"OK, OK so you're allowed to travel on my super-fast, modern, sexy trains. Do you love every second? Of course you do. What's that smell?"

"It's me cheese and pickle sandwiches, Sir. Us spotters are a bit addicted to 'em."

"Why are you interrupting me?" said the Fat Controller, idly wondering why they allowed people to bring food on to his trains, surely they could ban that, and then they would have to buy...the idea crawled through his brain like a maggot through the blown meat of his brain.

"Well, Sir, you said your train is fast, and yes it's a record for Britain, but I've travelled on them there TGVs and they're shit hot. I could get on a train at that Gare de Lions and be at Marsails in sniffing distance of those fish soups in three hours and that's about 470 miles as the corbeau flies or there about. Now your train travels at an average of 102 mph but those TGVs they lick along at an average of 157 mph. I don't think those trains of yours are that fast are they?"

Like a traffic light the Fat Controller's skin changed from suppuratent green to incadescent red.

"Get this man out of here! He's a terrorist! Have him banged up on a Virgin Special to Hartlepool, with no toilets and an automatic door that opens and closes for no reason every ten seconds. Get him out of here, NOW!!"

High Speed Irony

It's kinda Ironic that the Crashing Bore wasn't driving the car.

SkyNEWS Gaffe

Commenting on Richard Hammond's accident, the presenter hoped for his "speedy recovery."

Travelling to Irony

In an effort to change the hackery apartment from something that looks like that man's flat in Se7en, too many books and cuttings, so I'm on a big feng-shuing of my flat and it will end up looking like that man's flat in the lager ad; empty except for an armchair, a large TV and a small glass-doored fridge for my lager. So trawling through the hackery archives I found this from January from the Guardian's travel section. I think it sums up my ideas about our obsession with travel. It pretty much tallies with the hobbit on R4's travel programme talking about a market somewhere in somewhere, "It's fantastic, it's so untouristy." So you're on holiday there and you don't want other holiday-makers there? What does that make you? An effete snob? Does that make you a traveller rather than a tourist? Travel generally narrows the mind it seems.

But back to the Guardian travel section. What is a travel section, by the way? Is it honest journalism or a touting of holidays provided as freebies for journalists?? How independent are these reports? Anyone seen a report saying, "This is a crap place, don't go you'll regret it." Anyway back to the travel section.

Front page a big picture of a gorilla gazing magbificently at at its much more intelligent cousins and underneath it the caption,

The gorillas that have never seen a human
Gabon, untamed Africa

So how is this supposed to work? You tell everybody about the gorillas, they go there because it's so unspoilt, no tourists, to see the gorillas, who will then become habituated to tourists. it doesn't matter whther you're the first fucking person there, you're still the first fucking tourist.
Welcome to Irony.

It might go against the grain but if you find somewhere lovely, then don't write about it. Let the people with imagination, ingenuity and some sort of desire go there. on their own and keep it secret.

PS You can go to the link but you won't see the picture. If you want to see it you'll have to bring around a bottle of Black Tower to the hackery.

Blow

It looks like he needs one.

Thanks to an esteemed colleague for this one. I don't look at the FT, strange for something which is big and pink.

Full and Comprehensive Use of T'Interweb

The National Society of Allotment and Leisure Gardeners

This is a lovely site which is hardly embracing the full resources and connectivity of the t'interweb.

Now imagine trying to get an allotment. You're mystified as to how get one. And you probably are as it's the latest thing that the middle classes have taken to their capacious and ravenous bosom. Here in London you can't move for lovely middle class people blagging, stealing or bribing their way to allotments. It's a dirty world on the allotments, it's difficult to keep your fingers clean out there. You think I'll check out the National Society blah blah to see what they say. Call it up, ooh there's a special section I can click on to find out how to get an allotment. Click! And what do you get? The options are for the question,

"Where is my nearest allotment and who do I contact?"

The options are

contact your local authority, no clicky postcode connecting thing here

or speak to someone on the local allotments, OK!

and finally the only clicky things on it is a link to the office of the deputy prime minister, a scarey idea but at least you can imagine him in his potting shed, shagging the allotment secretary after punching someone for impugning his leeks. Shall I press it? It's changed and I'm being redirected but finally a site with a little more info.

Try the site or maybe not....site

BlogaramaBlogarama

SkyNEWS Gaffe

"Afghanistan is all about bodies on the ground."

Me Dysmorphic, Fat Chance

Looking at the Independent spread on Dysmorphia I'm convinced that I have Dysmorphia. I've done the quiz and I've racked up a glut of points.

Do you feel you are disgusting

Yes, I'm Jabba the Hutt, but even he pulled Princess Leia. You know if one were so inclined and one pondered on Leia in Jabba's Palace, she must have been there at least a couple of months. What indescribable things did she have to for Jabba, anyway enough of that...

Am I forever checking my appearance and forever comparing my body with other people's

Yes, does my gut look big in this T shirt? And I'm always comparing myself to Peter North, how does he do that?

Do I avoid being seen in bright light or from certain angles

Yes, I am a thing of the night but i hadn't thought about the angle thing, when I'm doing it do my jowels hang down and wobble? Right doggy position for me from now.

Do I attempt to camouflage my defects with clothing, make up or posture.

Unfortunately yes, I wear fishermen's jumpers at all time and it's fucking hot at Stringfellows, I can tell you. I hadn't considered make up but maybe if I painted my gut bar coloured i'd look like I was standing next to a lumpy bar? Posture? Well I do thrust my hips forward so my packet looks bigger but it's putting a lot of strain on my back.

Yes and I do constantly groom, every week or so.

And I am seriously considering a surgical procedure but i'll wait until they get those cock jobs so they work afterwards. I'm not sure if others think I look normal.

But then again you wouldn't find me climbing into bed with Posh, I'd be scared of cutting myself to pieces, let alone the conversation.

Mind you the woman in the article who uses some sort of bady scanner to assure women that they are normal has some brilliant advice for the ladies. Dig out the old bikini pictures of yourself that you've hidden at the back of the draw, those ones you hated and look at them now after 5, 10 or 15 years and see how good you really looked. That's stunning advice, look at pictures of youself ages ago and now you can sit down at say fuck that was then, this is now, I'm so old and saggy. Women are like farmers, they'll always find something to complain about, too thin, too fat, too old, not enough setaside or subsidies.

That's the wonderful thing about being a man, we look at George Clooney and Brad Pitt in Ocean's Eleven and know we are them; we are Sean Connery in Goldfinger, no matter how addled, gutted or droopy we are, we are them in our minds, "And we don't care," to echo Johnny. But magazines have had a longer time to addle ladies self image; men's mags are trying to do the same now, throw them away and watch Ocean's Eleven, and yes Julia's too too thin in that film.

Hewitt is a Patronising Tosser

I've just watched part of Patricia Hewitt's speech today on Sky to some luckless people who have to sit there and be patronised by this utter tosser on how she's going to cut hospitals but provide a better service and we can all do our bit by shutting up and lumping it. This is like Terminator Two with the new T 1000, she morphes and shifts and it's almost impossible to destroy her as she spews bollocks in the most patronising of ways. Anyway she's Australian, nuff said, only 65 days to go to the Ashes first test, bring it on, to quote Wacko Bush

Sergeant "Scruff" McGough

This is an obituary that I read a litle while ago but looking through the massive archives of Hackery I found it again and thought it might be interesting but any obituary that has a sub-head of

Member of the Special Boat Service who held an Afghan fortress though beseiged by hundreds of Taliban

has to be read

Now read on

a few more (this seems to have gone dead) however this youtube video maybe relevant is Scruff here?

It's George, Just Do It; Save Darfur

Look I'm a red-blooded, virile, totally Hetero male but even I go weak at the knees with George Clooney, of course he's devastingly handsome but he seems such a cool guy as well and he doesn't half wear a good suit. Of course if you went out with him for a drink you wouldn't get a look in as women arrow their way towards him but at the end of the evening you'd be able to pick off one of those swimming weakly in his wake, they might be heartbroken enough to consider consoling themselves with a George substitute, wouldn't they?

Anyway, he cut a superb figure at the UN Security Committe yesterday, sharp-suited and gravelly voiced as he laid it on the line to the committee,

"In many ways it is unfair, but it is nonetheless true that this genocide will be on your watch. How you deal with it will be your legacy, your Rwanda, your Cambodia, your Auschwitz.
We were brought up to believe that the UN was formed to ensure that the Holocaust could never happen again. We believe in you so strongly. We need you so badly. If not the UN, then who?"
Read the rest at FOXNews

I just had to try to post this, she's a US deputy ambassador to the UN, but that don't count for anything when you're sitting next to George...

Best Daily Express Story Ever

The Daily Express is like an aging relative that you once admired for their courage and vitality who now despite your better instincts embarrasses and annoys you as it sits there farting, drooling, fiddling with its gonads and ranting at the top of its voice about,

"Them killing Princess Di."
"Who dearest?"
"Them, the Royal Family, the Queen Mum in the White Fiat, she flashed the car and it crashed, They killed her."
"Some tea?"
"Not if it's been made by an illegal asylum seeker, has it? They're everywhere you know."

Leading to the ultimate Daily Express front page

ILLEGAL ASYLUM SEEKER

KILLED

PRINCESS DI

If they're not banging on about Lady Di or asylum seekers then it's house prices crashing on upwards, which is an indicator about the market, if the Express thiinks house prices are still going up then you can hear the creak of the iceberg as the good ship Homeowner steams full ahead.

Exactly how does the Express think that it is "THE WORLD'S GREATEST NEWSPAPER"

how does that work? A paper obsessed by the death of the world renowned air head Di, sad yes but a major conspiracy maybe only in the wildest realms of speculation but if you are the world's greatest then why keep banging on about it, there are a few other issues out there.

The other thing they have on their front page is "5p CHEAPER THAN THE DAILY MAIL" maybe it's a trick of my memory but I'm sure it used to just say cheaper than the Daily Mail, which sums it up. Get the Mail and Express together and it's going to be like a zombie film as they stagger towards you, arms outstretched, chanting Princess Di and Stealth Taxes.

But the Best Express story ever, well since the 60s, was yesterday,

"Harvest mice back after 100 years"

Harvest mice are lovely and cuddly and impossibly optimistic building their nests in corn, a race against time before it's reaped, they look so cute when they're nibbling on a blackberry almost as big as they are. Apparently they are back in Shropshire, so three squeaky cheers like the mice on Bagpuss.

They have a cute page on Wikipedia, conceited, arrogant voices off to the left "but it's not accurate" yes it is you wallies, but an even cuter one about Salt Marsh Harvest Mouse. And they prefer salty water to fresh water, they must be the feistiest Harvest Mice ever. More cute photo at the Mammals Trust. I can't stand rats but love the different mice, I must be ratist.

So that's the best Express story ever, since the 60s at least.

A Commuting Moment

Parliament Square 0903 BST

I was walking through the square when two of those giant american helicopters with two rotor blades fly over making a hell of a noise, they were flying so low, the sound of their rotor blades was echoing back off the buildings, criss-crossing in ripples of noise. As I looked up I knew there was only one thing to say to the pin-striped commuter next to me, and in my best Martin Sheen drawl,

"Saigon … shit; I'm still only in Saigon."

He looked blankly at me. Looked me up and down, noticing the blood on my shorts from yesterday's bicycle accident (don't ask, but since you have it was another cyclist who slammed into me, sending me to my knees in the middle of the road. He claimed to be in advertising and was working on a cycle safety campaign errrrr whatever, if he were he was on too much of that inspiration powder.), after gazing in twitching horror at me, he seriously freaked and walked into traffic to get away from me, luckily for him the lights were changing.

I loved it. I thought it was a beautiful moment, the perfect quote for the perfect time and because he was a tight-assed, fucked-up commuter unable to accept any sort of off-the-cuff remark he almost killed himself. That's London.

This is the closest I can get to the Saigon clip.

If you want Apocalypse Now And Then try this...

A film made by a very talented friend Sand, on the right, since you ask.

and if you want a truly brilliant Apocalypse Now, try this
which has the Saigon quote...

Peace Wimmin Take The Piss

This is a bit of a larf on the Guardian site.

George Monbiot is reminiscing about his days at Greenham Common and in particular how the "Peace Wimmin" threatened and harassed a young hippy called Cat.

"He led me for what seemed to be miles through scrub and woodland, all the way urging me not to trample the leaves or break any twigs: only he knew the paths, and he didn't want anyone to be able to follow him. When we stopped, however, I realised that we were just 200 yards away from the camp. "Here we are", he said. I looked around. All I could see was bracken, birch and hawthorn. He parted the bracken to reveal a clear polythene sheet, stretched over a rowan sapling which had been bent down and tied to the ground. Even after he had shown it to me, when I stepped back a pace I couldn't see it.

"Why are you taking all these precautions?"
"Because they set light to my last two benders. The last time was when I was sleeping in it."
"The police?"
"No. The women."

Cat had slept there, on a pillow made of moss, with nothing but his I-Ching, a candle and an enamel mug, for a fortnight, since he had lost his other possessions in the last fire. Recently, he told me, someone had held a knife to his chest and promised she would kill him if he stayed."

Later they scare the shit out of George by talking to him.

"In the morning, unaware of the trouble I was in, I sat by the camp fire, waiting for the kettle to boil. I sensed that someone was standing over me, and looked up. I was surrounded by a ring of women. They held their palms out towards me and their eyes were closed. Slowly and quietly they started chanting. "Go away. Go away. Go away." It was terrifying and extremely effective. I left immediately."

Hardly the bold warrior.

Are these people so serious that they are unable to understand the deep irony of their actions. Anti-abortionists killing the born to save the unborn. Animal right activists freeing mink to save them so they can lay waste to the birds and animals of the local countryside. Peace wimmin threatening violence.


But here are a few comments.

'Surrounded by a ring of women chanting go away go away'You and Cat should have stood up with your eyes wide open and chanted very slowly with two plates extended 'where's my breakfast, where's my breakfast'


JJ10


handinthebush
Comment No. 204199
September 7 12:44
GBR
can someone explain to me why when some bunch of fusty old duffers want to keep their London boozing den male only it is an example of wretched sexism but when a bunch of hairy lezzers want to keep their camp female only it is empowerment? God what a load of bollocks.


Starsqui
Comment No. 204144
September 7 12:19
GBR
So you didn't get laid, then?

Tone's So Relaxed

Lame Ducks Come Home To Roost

Denis McShane, labour something or other, says he "hasn't seen Tony looking so relaxed." mmmmmmmmm right. I was lucky to hear that on sky news, I was almost deafened by the sound of pigs flying and lame ducks coming home to roost.

Editor Beheaded

Editor Beheaded

Mohammed Taha, the editor of the daily al-wifaq in Khartoum, was kidnapped yesterday and his beheaded body was found later. It saddens me that this is another attack on the freedom of the press. The press, the media, all of us cannot be cowed by attempts to muzzle the freedom to write what we think, we should be allowed to debate issues, to mock, to criticize. Unfortunately mohammed's murder looks like it might be connected with an article he wrote that cast doubt on the prophet Mohammed's ancestry. He was tried for blasphemy for that and fined. We cannot bow our knees to any attempts to censor the press whether it's an attempt by a sleazy politician to hide from the electors their wrongdoing or the attempts of various insecure religions to quash any other thought than their supposedly divine thought. Another article here.

SPORT

Andy Murray played "off the court." Sleepy head Murray ain't good in the morning. Yawn, not another moaning, slugabed teenager, "Come on Tim."

Tone's lovely in he

Praetorian Prefects Move In

The blonde magnificence that is Karen Buck was running around Parliament yesterday asking MPs to say they loved Tone and he really is the bees-knees and stop regicide now!! Soon a mass rally will be be organised to demand that Tony stays, maybe he will take emergency powers as the country loves him so much that he must accede to to its wishes and stay, taking all power onto his broad shoulders. I love you Tony.

Karen Buck is quoted on the Guardian politics page as being most proud of,

"With half a million London children living in chronically over-crowded housing, (double the level of 10 years ago) my proudest achievement has been persuading the government that the way we measure over-crowding (dating from 1935) has to be ditched and modernised."

Well done Karen, you must be proud.

Other FOTs, Friends Of Tony, were whining and frothing at the mouth on radio 5 this morning. variously accusing the disloyal 2 (6 now) of mounting a coup, toppling the PM and being part of an eruption of self-indulgence, while another John Hutton denied he was in self-denial over Tony going.

Though of course there is a deafening silence from a lot of other MPs as they try to time their jump perfectly "I love you Tony;Oh Gordon take me."

Latest odds are

McBrown 1/5
The Fishermen's Friend Alan Johnson 6/1
Stalin Reid 7/1
The Man of Grey Milliband 16/1
The Straw Man 33/1
Hain the Shame 33/1
Caravan Beckett 40/1
Big Ears 50/1
Detessa Jowell 60/1
Mr Balls 80/1
Cinture Kelly 80/1
Hokey Croquet Prescott 100/1

effics init

Sky Ethics

Blonde news Sky babe on asks another journalist where he got the leaked Blair "I'm Orf Schedule" memo. No journo reveals sources, so why did the numbnut ask the question? Blah, blah fill air time blah blah

Tony's orf in he

Leave Tony Alone You Rotters

Thank God those turncoats,Tom Watson and Khalid Mahmood have resigned. They besmirch the honour of the Labour Party, how dare they even question our Great Leader Tony as to his intentions on when he's going to go. They are part of the disaffected lack-a-mounts, fed on the breast-milk of patronage, lullabied by the New Speak of New Labour and now with an eye on the main chance they jump ship like the rats they are, swimming to SS Mcbrown, how dare they??

UPDATE

Shit you bastards four more of these lickspittles have jumped, check it out on the Guardian and maybe sky news.


Hands up all those who think that Brownie is not going end up as PM. He's like those boys hanging around to have a go on a bicycle, being all patient, yes Tony you cycle as much as you want, go on have it a bit longer, oh i thought you were getting off, oh you're McNot, OK I'll wait a bit longer. Then when Tony's ridden it into the ground, a wheel's clunking and a tyre looks a little dodgy and the bell doesn't work anymore Tony hands it over and McBrown climbs on and he rides it straight into a wall as the brakes fail, "Oh shhhhhhhheeeeet you McBastard!"

CRICKET

Does Marcus Trescothick not like the sub-continent? Who'd a thunk it a professional cricketer stressed out. As a nipper, a spotty teenager and indeed still as a fully mature adult gentlemen I can think of no more a relaxing occupation as that of being a professional cricketer. What do you do? hit a ball, catch a ball, bowl a ball. OK, maybe, you sometimes have some beastly Australians saying nasty things about what they did to your mother last night as they crouch in the slips stinking of Foster's and vaseline, but apart from that nothing. Oh and you have to travel the world to far off exotic places which are sunny, that's harsh. Trescothick! get your pads blancoed, polish your box abd get on that bloody plane you 'orrible little cricketer.

Crikey Irwin Crocked

Crikey Irwin Crocked

So the final sting in the tail for the ockker....

Sky kept banging on about Irwin all day (4th Sep), occasionally considering the murdered tourists in Jordan, then sliding back to Irwin again. I suppose it was more photogenic than Jordan, more croc wrestling, baby dangling and lots of oh crikies, except of course if they had the Skycopter to hover over the murder scene wobbling back-and-forth as we gaze at inexplicable pictures of immobile ambulances and unmoving police.

I suppose they could have dispatched that sad faced gentleman they usually make go and stand outside Scotland Yard or the Old Bailey (the Home Office today, that's new), he never gets much of a look in, always standing outside a police station or court, in the rain, to recite the fact that The Plod are still holding some men of Muslim appearance because they might have thought something about something in a threatening manner.

Why do they do that, does it give us colour, drama, action? The smarmy studio presenters, you can hear them smugly thinking to themselves "I don't have to go outside in the rain to read out The Plod's statement," then they cut off the sad gentleman before he finishes with a lofty "errr thank you err Martin thingy" and with relief they turn to the world expert on everything; you want the firing rate of a sniper with a Walther WA2000 in Afghanistan, he's your man, how to commercially produce and cut heroin, he's your sky expert, the subtleties of Japanese royal protocol, he's your instant guru or in this case how to wrestle a crocodile, he's your man again.

"So Genius, what do you think?" "Pontificate, blah, blah, name drop, a little amusing story to show what a world renowned journalist I am, on first name terms with the news, blah, blah and a wry smile."

"Yes, indeed and thank you, now some breaking news, Steve Irwin is still dead, Police are on the trail of the killer skate. So genius, Skates, where is their sting, in the nose?"
"Chuckle, chuckle.....No you vacuos lap dancing news whore, chuckle, chuckle."

That was yesterday. Today's today and they're still banging on about it. Though lightened with Ian Huntley trying to top himself, cue genius on what it's like being banged up in Monster House, "Blah, blah, bit depressed, bored, hide the pills, swallow them all at once, blah, blah."

Then they have a discussion on voluntary euthenasia, turn a blind eye, let them top themselves, for the best really blah, blah.

And the rest of the News

Sep 5 06

Top Story

Elderly cyclist loses identity while on trek(China Daily)

A 90-year-old man in Jinan of Shandong Province loves riding his bicycle in mountainous regions. However, his forgetfulness left him lost in the southern part of the region, where he stayed for 10 days. The villagers in the region gave the elderly man food and care. But he could not remember his name, and the villagers didn't know how to help him. Eventually they turned to the police for help, and policemen finally helped the man to find his way home.

Qilu Evening News courtesy of chinadaily.com

Man loses memory and is helped home. Fantastic.

Other Top Stories

War On Terror

More soldiers dead, no blood on hands of politicians. We're even safer today than yesterday.

Government to stop fatties by teaching them to cook....right

Shoot the Rogues, Deserters And Cowards

I love this, in the Telegraph, Haig's son, George Haig the 2nd Earl Haig, attacks the pardoning of 360 soldiers shot for cowardice

"the commanders knew best" he says; as stupid as his dear papa. "Rogues, persistent deserters and criminals...They had to be made an example of," he intones, the authentic port-ridden voice of the British ruling class. And all I could think of when I read this is General Haig in Blackadder sweeping his soldiers into a dustpan and tossing them over his shoulder. Men were nothing to this butcher of the Somme. Labour MP Andrew Mackinlay has a nice turn of phrase, ""I'm astonished he's got the audacity to put his head above the parapet on this one." So come Haigy we'll put you in a muddy hole, fire heavy ordinance at you, snipe at you,let you get trench foot, surround you with rats the size of cats and see how you feel after 4 weeks, or maybe 4 months...or as they might have put it in the trenches, put a sock in it you wanker.

BEAR STORY

The curse of the bear lands again as a man tries to barbecue a bear and sets fire to his garage. Oi you wanker leave that bear alone.

SPORTS

Sports prediction : William Gallas to score a home goal when he plays for Arsenal

Sports Opinion : Still don't like that surly bollock Andy Murray, I never thought I'd say this but "Come on Tim."