Bad Track Records!

For England, for home, and for the prize! ....

2008-04-24T06:32:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while we small children of the internet try to further our pitiful cause by joining some site enhancing directory or listing, and those of us unfortunate to live the dark side of "the pond" have to face a rather unpalateable truth when filling in our details....... Country.

Those we know as "Americans" only have to click the default choice, we "Brits", or to haul up the colours (sorry about the "U") have to scroll down an interminal list of fledgling countries trying to guess what we are going to be today.

I consider myself English; I speak English, I live in England and England is my country. But as I pause momentarily on the "E"s.... I realise that will not do.

Neither will the "G"s.
Great Britain? Nul points for that one! Ok so we haven't been great since the industrial revolution - and most of the things we invented are now done a thousand times better by other nations - but don't some people call us that?

No.
Apparently we are the United Kingdom!
mmm?

No matter that the Scots hate us and if they didn't already rule England, have their own parliament and beat us at every sport we can scrape a team for, would no doubt be setting fire to things, demanding independence and generally behaving beastly.

Ditto the Irish
and the Welsh (both of them)
and the Cornish
Most of the island north of Watford
Brixton
The Channel Islands,

And not forgetting Mr Smith of Tunbridge Wells who protested against being dragged through the "Imperialist English courts" for non-payment of council tax by declaring unilateral independence. (Despite a late night sitting of the House of Commons his efforts were ultimately quashed by a combined services assault force, and after a brief, and relatively blood free "liberation" his insurrection was "neutralised")

Alright, admitedlly it has taken me until today to write this. I forgot all about St George's day (still recovering from St Patrick's day..) But isn't it about time we... ENGLISH! - re-established our superiorty over these upstarts, former colonies and fifth columnists, not forgetting Mr Smith of Tunbridge, and painted the world Red again!

Torch the Burns units!
Welsh on our bets!
Let the Irish Stew!
Smash the Cornish Pastie!
and charge that nasty Mr Smith his council tax!

..... or have I got a chip on my shoulder?

BROWN KNOWS...

2008-04-18T06:23:00.001-07:00

Who our friends are?

Barrack Obama, Hilary Clinton and some other bloke looked slightly bewildered yesterday when confronted by the wobbly jawed, glass eyed, would-be-British president Gordon Brown, visiting Washington as part of a Labour party " What's this democracy thing all about then?" fact finding mission.

Gordon looked cheerfully dapper, despite having spent the night in a cupboard after being smuggled in within range of his idols by cleaning staff. The three contenders bandied world power small-talk genially with the ex-chancellor before he was whisked away by security.

BALLOTS TO DEMOCRACY!

2008-04-09T07:33:00.000-07:00

That incorrigible old rogue Mugabe

is still as keen to govern Zimbabwe

as the day he took power.

So an elections gone sour?

Oh sod it! just call in the army

APRIL FOOLS DAY

2008-04-01T08:17:00.000-07:00

Well here I am staring at a computer screen; bored.

The funniest day of the year. The day when even the BBC manages a jolly jape at the expense of its licence paying victims.

Oh BUGGER.

I suppose though, the whole of the Internet is in fact one big April's fool joke, really..

I mean here we all are pouring out the minutiae of our sorry little brains for any Tom, Dick or Harry to click on and derive five seconds of dubious enjoyment.

And for what?

SOD IT!... the CIA could close the whole thing down if it wanted. (MI5 have been trying to for years, but even if they had the budget for a computer and I doubt they could find the right buttons ).

For all you lot know I could be a 12 year old one legged Ethiopian girl sitting in an Internet cafe getting my own back on the bastards who blew my leg off...

Or a bored teenager from the planet G?%jk^ hacking into your primitive Internet as a school project! In fact I have long been of the theory the whole Earth thing is a intergalactic school project. That would explain God, Darwin and Douglas Adams etc . May have to follow up that delayed train of though later

But nevertheless here I am, scraping the dregs from the bottom of the creativity barrel; It's pithy, acerbic, topical comment my public want; and they shall have it!... in abundance!

Later though...

Meanwhile if someone kind soul could make a token visit to my woefully execrable (a retired journalist?) website http://www.badtrackrecords.co.uk/ ?

it would make all this worthwhile.

Possibly not.

Anyway must go. I've just had an email from a world famous fashion photographer who is flying in to Addis Ababa to do a Vogue cover shoot - must update my facebook profile.....

Have fun!

TIME GENTLEMEN PLEASE

2008-03-30T05:07:00.000-07:00

So here we go again; the twice yearly farce of waking up to find nobody knows what time it is.

We are now officially in British Summer Time (BST) which of course being an hour ahead of Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) coincides with Central European Time (CET) or Western European Summer Time (WET+1) until they decide to move their clocks around too. As everyone is fully aware GMT has been replaced now by UTC which is Coordinated Universal Time or UT for short. Originally UTC was Coordinated Universal National Time which nobody could think of an abreviations for. Perversely the military call GMT "Zulu time" for reasons that presumably are a question of national security. The Navy would still be lost without "solar time".

GMT was adopted across Britain by the railways in 1847 although in 1858 a court case upheld "local mean time" as the official time. By 1880 GMT or "railway time" was adopted nationwide. This is not to be confused with British Rail Time which meant anything they bloody well wanted it to.

During the darkest days of the Second World War Britain was effectively on "British Double Summer Time" (BDST); The British Double Summer Mean (BDSM) was abandoned as an official name as it sent the "wrong signals" to the Germans.

The clocks were not advanced for the summer of 1945 and were reverted to GMT at the end of the summer of 1946. In 1947 the clocks were advanced by one hour twice during the spring and put back twice during the autumn so that Britain was on BDST during the height of the summer.

Safety campaigners, including the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents (RoSPA), have made recommendations that British Summer Time be maintained during the winter months, and that a "double summertime" be applied to the current British Summer Time period, putting the UK two hours ahead of GMT during summer.

The British Standard Time (BST) scheme was trialled between 1968 and 1971, when Britain remained on GMT+1 all year.

In 2005, Lord Tanlaw introduced the Lighter Evenings (Experiment) Bill into the House of Lords, which would advance winter and summer time by one hour for a three-year trial period at the discretion of "devolved bodies", allowing Scotland and Northern Ireland the option not to take part. The Local Government Association has called for a three-year trial of the Single/Double Summer Time (SDST).

During all this "time" Greenwich has actually moved; the prime meridian is now 5.31" E.

As Shakespeare so aptly put it:

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet."

TERMINAL 5: AIRPLANE 3

2008-03-28T10:17:00.000-07:00

With characteristic British cack-handedness the much vaunted Terminal 5 at Heathrow has opened with a damp fizzle. Apparently a "high tech" (brit speak for things we don't really understand held together with sticky tape and bits of string) baggage handling system has gone pear shaped.

BAA are sheepish about the whole fiasco: "I wouldn't call it a complete disaster..." Pedro Cojones, the official sacrificial lamb for BAA protested, (The "British" Airports Authority is now owned by "Johnny Foreigner" as indeed is most of the "British" infratructure).... "Mrs Beryl Scruggins sold out of her home made scones in the Douglas Bader "Last Leg" lounge and apart from a party of Iranian tourists taking a short excursion across the runway we have managed to maintain a light hearted "party" atmosphere" he wittered on.

Heathrow has always been a stopping off point for weary travellers. According to local legend a group of passing knights found themselves stranded en route to the Crusades on the edge of the moorland outside of London. Wary of the light fingered habits of their porters and servants they arranged their armour in a defensive line and spent a fitful night in what eventually became "Heathrow"

Later a small settlement sprang up catering for pilgrims gathering ouside London for the then long and arduous journey to Canterbury. Chaucer mentions the "roges and villens" that robbed him of his belongings whilst staying in "Heeth Rowwe"

In an early portfolio of Richard III Shakespeare obliquely blames Heathrow for Richard's defeat:

"a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse

twere not for grazing on that forsaken gorse

my kingdom lost through spite and force.

What hope for England now?

my past behind, a throne beneath

all lost on that dammed heath

and this accursed row"

It was only natural therefore that Heathrow should be selected as the main airport for London, Britain and the rest of Europe!

RYE ECONOMY GETS LEG UP

2008-03-25T04:00:00.000-07:00

With a brimming treasure chest from her recent encounter with crinkly scouse rock legend Sir Paul McCartney, allegedly 'fit blonde' Heather Mills dropped anchor in the sleepy Sussex port of Rye last week and sizzled the powder of local male drinkers by "cutting out" a local barman and Captain Jack Sparrow look-alike in a local tavern. She "was almost legless" one local quipped pithily into his pint, waking the parrot on his shoulder with an envious shrug.

Already home to Captain Pugwash creator John Ryan, Rye with its history of seafaring and smuggling looks "on station" to take advantage of the Piratemania now washing its quaint cobbled streets. The picture postcard town has been in the doldrums since waking up one morning to find the sea had upped anchor and moved two miles away to the distinctly unpicturesque Rye Harbour.

Enterprising local furniture entrepreneur 'Walking the plank' Andy has already embarked on a range of pine wooden legs suitable for would be buccaneers and their Molls - "it's a shot in the arm for the local economy" remarked Andy with a swash buckling swagger.

A short cable length from Andy's cabin is the newly renamed "Sailmakers Arms" where Rye's "lower gun deck" are already running up the town's new colours. To a heavy swell of rattling half-empty beer tankards and rum soaked ribald comments two buxom local wenches grapple with each other on the sand covered deck. To cries of "Avast behind!" 'Stow-away' Rose out-guns 'Canonade' Karen and sets course for the other bar where the clink of ill-gotten doubloons is soon heard.

As Rye's timbers shiver with anticipation and its tea rooms, antique shops and pubs open their gun ports and run out their canons for the coming tourist season, rumours have already started to circulate that a fouth Pirates of the Caribbean Film: "The Mermaid's Curse" has already been set in Rye. If so there should be no shortage of extras available...

ARMS AND THE MANN

2008-03-14T03:53:00.001-07:00

Simon Mann, who once shared a brain cell with successful British entrepreneur and society raconteur “Sir” Mark Thatcher, has rocked the British establishment by revealing a surprise list of his co-conspirators in the ill fated attempt to overthrow Obi Wan Kenobi the Emperor of Equatorial Guinea.

It was all a bit of a shambles admitted Mann affably; "...one minute the chaps and I were quaffing a few beers in the the back of the plane and ...CRIPES! ... the the next thing we knew we were surrounded by frightfully unfriendly darkies waving machine guns.... and hauled up before the beak with exercise books down our trousers"

Amongst his alleged co-conspirators are a number of ex-inmates of the notorious Eton public school in Windsor, England where Mann studied A' level: Overthrowing small oil rich African States, Mislaid weaponry, and Social Networking.

He was, “Mad” Mike Madison, his house-master and explosives teacher at Eton reflects vaguely, “ an unremarkable student”

Immediately on his release after spending 4 years in jail in "Zimbers" the softly spoken soldier of misfortune was whisked unceremoniously away to Equatorial Guinea and Black Beach in Malabo; a popular local beauty spot. “..not too bad as nasty foreign jails go...almost cushy after Eton...” Mann remarked with his characteristically endearing stoicism as he toyed absentmindedly with the chains adorning his wrists.

Shares in several leading British companies took a tumble today as leaked copies of Mann's list circulated in the City. “Poor show...letting the side down” was the muted response of one senior government minister, speaking from Heathrow Airport on his way to an urgent conference abroad.

Meanwhile rumours that Harrison Ford has been asked to play Mann in a forthcoming film of the mischievous scamp's adventures suggest that Mann may yet leave them all with EG on their faces.

The playing fields of Eton will be closed this Easter Weekend for essential mine clearance.

BUDGET WINDUP

2008-03-12T07:07:00.001-07:00

An icon of Britain and probably the most famous timepiece in the world, Big Ben towers over that infinitely less reliable institution and seat of British Government, the Houses of Parliament. Famously regulated by the adding or taking away of pennies to its mechanism Big Ben is used all over the world as a symbol for marking the new year.

The British economy is likewise watched the world over and regulated by the adding and taking away of pennies. Once a year the press gets into a lather of speculation and the public into a stupor of indifference whilst those MPs not too inebriated to leave the duty free commons bar trundle into the chamber with all the exuberance of a gang of stockbrokers visiting a strip club.

The Budget is presented by the Chancellor of the day live on national television with all the gimmicks and showmanship he can muster. The MPs harrumph and guffaw appropriately, the heavyweights of the government squeeze in around him cosily and a jolly old time is had by all.

It is of course a total sham. The Chancellor is picked for his maleabilty and "Brown nosing" capabilities and has as little knowledge of how the economy actually works as a sea cucumber does of quantum physics. The average MP doesn't know his GDP from his RPI and the whole thing is cobbled together from stolen school maths exam papers and whatever can be retrieved from the hard drives of rusty old Civil Service computers after the vice squad have finished with them.

The penny slapped on a pint of beer and the penny "slashed!" from the litre of petrol will make the next day's tabloid headlines and the obscure, barely mumbled "reform" of XYZ duty that will actually crap all over the average person's disposable income will not be discovered or unscrambled until the weekend Budget Special pull-outs. By which time England will have been thrashed at a sports event and some celebrity will have climbed out of a car with no knickers on, commending the budget to the dustbin.

The whole event is really just a chance for those who can be bothered, to watch their local MPs reacting in the glow of publicity radiating around the Chancellor; raising a querulous eyebrow, frowning speculatively, looking outraged and generally hamming it up whenever a camera comes in range. This is in stark contrast to everyday parliament "live" on television which consists usually of some obscure geriatric backbencher droning away interminably surrounded by a "doughnut" of wannabes, the remaining half a dozen MPs sleeping off last nights excesses on the plush green benches.

The Budget is like a cut-away window to the intricate inner workings of a stately grandfather clock - the glitter of wheels whirring away conveniently disguising the fact that the rest of the case is just a pretty empty box filled with a old rope and swinging lead.

SINFLATION

2008-03-11T05:36:00.000-07:00

Apparently the Vatican has just decided to extend the official number of mortal sins to include a whole load of bad things which the ever resourceful and inventive mankind has managed to sneak past the almighty since the last stock-take. The new sins take aim at those who "undermine society in far reaching ways, including by taking or dealing in drugs, polluting the environment, and engaging in manipulative genetic science" The Times of London reports.
Also new to the list are paedophilia, abortion, and social injustices that cause poverty or "the excessive accumulation of wealth by a few". (That last one's bit rich coming from the Vatican)
They join the long-standing, but one might argue far more catchy evils of lust, gluttony, avarice, sloth, anger, envy and pride.

Which all tends to beg the question; What if more religions return to free collective bargaining for our souls? Were Islam to follow suit with a drastic cut in the number of virgins martyrs were rewarded with in heaven and The Chief Rabbinate of Haifa to tighten the definition of kosher we could find ourselves with a mounting sins and rewards in heaven deficit, a run on Rosary beads, a plunge in the value of the Hail Mary, panic on the stoning and excommunication exchanges and panic in the Divine Entity markets.

This trading in our futures should not be an option.....

A SPOONFUL FROM NANNY

2008-03-10T05:40:00.000-07:00

As storms lash Britain and the usual grim faced newsreaders catalogue the terrible disruption to traffic alongside the obligatory car crushed by tree photograph, the Environment Agency has warned people to stay away from the coast. As fatuous government warnings go this is pretty innocuous and not perhaps as immediately chuckle inducing as last year's Police warning for us all to reduce crime by staying away from bad people or the notorious NHS's "Just say NO to disease!".

Last year saw government spending on Public service announcements, officious bumf and general nanny state hectoring reaching record levels with one Department of Officious Announcements (DOA) spokesman proudly proclaiming "it is now impossible in Britain to be more than 893.7mm away from a notice, sign or warning telling you to not do something, do something, or what unspeakably nasty things will happen to you if you persist in ignoring whatever it was the last warning warned you about." And any way "ITS THE LAW!" he added smugly.

Back in the golden days the traditional English pub was reassuringly bereft of wall based literature. The nicotine coated walls provided a natural defence against the adhesive qualities of all but the most tenacious felt tip penned event "poster". Even this stronghold of free will has now been swamped by "sensible drinking" posters, No Smoking signs and public health pronouncements. Pub toilets (hardly the British library) have blossomed from the simple NOW WASH YOUR HANDS (which most ignored anyway - just don't eat the free peanuts....) to advice on What you could catch, already might have caught, how to avoid catching it and where to have it cured if you had.

Everything purchased in Britain now tells you what is in it, what isn't in it and why you shouldn't have bought it in the first place.

One common feature of all this omnipresent worthiness is the gratingly complacent style, the first year graphic design student layout and the way it preaches the obvious in such a self righteously trite manner. Unlike the glossy commercial ads which fight for our attention against each other, rules regulations, guidelines and tight budgets and have to constantly be on the cutting edge of creativity, this sanctimonious government sponsored medicine is waved through just about every creative checkpoint and is given pride of place on our walls, TVs and products.
Like some smug, know-it-all teachers pet it gets patted on its neatly brushed head in the classroom - let's all wait in a dark corner of the playground and, when teachers not looking give it a dammed good kicking!

By the way
SMOKING SERIOUSLY HARMS YOUR HEALTH
so smoke, smile and live forever (or buy it with a foreign warning on the packet, learn a language and save money!)

OH BUGGER....

2008-03-08T06:41:00.000-08:00

Lady Barking gives her trade mark Salute on Leaving The General Pinochet Memorial Hospital Yesterday.

The sprightly 82 year old shared quips with nursing staff who treated her to a nostalgic chant of "Maggie, Maggie Maggie ..... Out, Out Out" before being bundled away fondly by psychiatric staff.

ONE PRAT TO RULE THEM ALL...

2008-03-07T05:47:00.000-08:00

News from Mordor! Ken and Boris have reached the slopes of Mt Doom and are preparing to do battle for THE PRECIOUS. I can't be the only one to find the struggle between tousled haired scamp Boris Johnson of the Shire and the slithery creature formerly known as Ken Livingston, for control of London intriquing. Wouldn't National politics be more fun if these two were leaders of their respective parties?

All a load of Balkans!

2008-03-06T06:30:00.000-08:00

So it looks like we won't be getting a referendum on Europe. Did anyone ever think we would? Gordon Brown has cast his lofty glass eye on his subjects and decided that as democratically elected leader of the country (must have missed THAT vote) our future lies with Europe whether we like it or not. Not the nasty Old Europe that would periodically trample through Belgium to have a bit of a barney, but a happy contented, prosperous and United Europe that is now expanding faster than a puddle of puppy pee on a sloping lino floor. This New Europe is now dividing and subdividing faster than an amoeba on amphetamines with a serious generation gap developing between the grumpy old farts in their tatty slippers to the west and the callow hoodies swapping illicit ciggies in their playground to the East.

Barely fresh from burning each other's tractors, shagging each other's goats and generally acting in a frightfully uncivilised manner these New Europeans have also taken with gusto to dissing their elders in that most sacred of European institutions - The Eurovision song contest. In golden times we had the risible Boom-a-bangs of the Germans, the skirt shedding, barefooted antics of the Britains, the game Norwegians who lost valiantly singing in their own language, the crafty Swedes who didn't and the The French whose nasal love ballads left everyone with a cold. A jolly camp time was had by all and we all got the last laugh on Terry Wogan by conspiring for Ireland to win so many times it practically bankrupted them.

Last year it was the ASBO's of Europe's turn and with a fine lack of regard for the hallowed traditions of Eurovision they swept all before them with an exuberant display of strategic, tactical, anarchic, wilful and downright incomprehensible voting.

The Old countries of Europe are now the parents of rowdy teenagers. We will still hand out the pocket money but tomorrow belongs to them.....

FIRE AT WILL!

2008-03-05T06:02:00.001-08:00

As anyone who as watched the film Zulu will recall; the first Zulu to be shot at Rorke's Drift was called Will.. No doubt this was uppermost in the minds of British inteligence when deciding on which Royal to send out to Afghanistan to "do their bit".

There was a time when any self respecting King or Prince would jump at the chance to get out the shiny armour, polish up the crown and lead his troops to victory. Occasionally this would backfire and bloody be-crowned heads would be waved about embarassingly on the field of battle - but generally capturing visiting celebrities alive was far more lucrative and no doubt more dignified. In the absence of widespread media coverage nothing could up the profile of an uncharismatic monarch quite as much as a loyal peasantry being forced to tighten their belts at home in order to raise the necessary ransom for his return, A few months being wined and dined as an honoured guest of the triumphant victor and then back home to cheering crowds and a heroes welcome. Of course one had to be pick one's enemies - the further one travelled away from the civilised playing fields the less likely it would be that the game would be played properly. Which brings me to The Crusades ( first blood part I ); Being chained to dungeon wall for dozens of years only to find your brother on the throne and the local forest awash with outlaws came as a bit of a shock to Richard the Lionheart. But then he kept the Lionheart bit - not Richard Who? or Richard the Unshaven, or Dungeon Dick.

"Leaders of armies have better things to do than fire at each other!" Wellington says in the 1970 film Waterloo, as Napoleon comes into range on the hill opposite. Possibly a better solution would be the exact opposite - Let the leaders get on with it whilst the rest go home and watch it on telly.

Of course its all a bit different now. No big set-piece battles with carefully choregraphed squares and columns of colourful cheering troops gleefully lopping bits off each other to the stern approval of distant mounted commanders. From the most important medal bedecked general to the grunt peeling potatoes - now all are fair game.

To his credit Harry took his chances and has returned safely. Whether this was one individual doing his duty, a morale boosting propaganda exercise or just an old fashioned British cock-up is up for discussion in every pub in the country. Should we have known? did the Taliban know? and who else is out there?. Not to Imagine the embarassment of the establishment if the ginger haired little scamp had been captured and we had been forced into clandestine negotiations with the Americans for the release of half of Guantanamo in exchange!

But then let's have some real fun...Round up all the politicians who supported this/these wars and give them each a tour of duty. (preferably in a bright red uniform with the startegically crossed white belt that the Boers found such sport ) and while we're at it lets re-name them all Will.....

The times they are unshaven

2008-02-18T08:17:00.000-08:00

Has anybody ever noticed how all the bad guys in history have dodgy facial hair? This is another tasteless lyric from Bad Track Records! (Not by the legendary Robert Zimmerframe but bearing a passing resemblance to Times they are a' changing)

THE TIMES THEY ARE UNSHAVEN

Strong men all tremble
Its just as they feared
confronted by a baddy
In a strangely shaped beard
It ain’t really right
And its probably not fair
To judge a man on the strength
Of his odd facial hair

But stubble equals trouble
And much misbehavin’
And the times they are unshaven

It just looks so sinister
And no lesser than that
If its not a Bin laden
Or a Yasser Arafat
Men find him threatening
Women find him cute
For a villain ain’t gone wrong
If he just ain’t hirsute

And without the daft ‘tache
And the clothing all khaki
You can’t cut a dash
As Iranian or Iraqi
So forget the hi-tech
Cruise missiles and lasers
When the going get tough
The tough ditch their razors!

GORDON BROWN

2008-02-13T03:43:00.000-08:00

GORDON BROWN - Appologies to the Stranglers

Gordon Brown taxes your fags
Come back from France? they'll search your bags
Ending in tears
As they find those beers
Never buys a round does Gordon Brown

Gordon Brown opens his mouth
Taxes your food, your car and your house
He'll watch you sink
Drive you to drink
He'll let you drown will Gordon Brown

Gordon Brown hands out Tax Credits
Even his best friends admit, and have said it’s
Just a ploy, to baffle and annoy
To confuse and confound,
but he’s Gordon Brown

Gordon Brown drops his square jaw
as the share prices drop through the floor
The Oil price is rising
Its hardly surprising
Confidence abounds with Gordon Brown

Gordon Brown rips off your pension
He’s got us all by those bits I can’t mention
In for a penny,
in for a pound
Into your Wallet dives Gordon Brown

Gordon Brown charges the students
All in the name of fiscal prudence
Now each degree
comes at a fee
Attendance is down with Gordon Brown

Gordon Brown schemes and he plots
Awaiting the day Blair gets the chop
He be right over,
He’ll be right round
He’ll be next door; He’s Gordon Brown

Anyway he's Prime Minister now more is the pity