PETE TOWNSHEND CANT HEAR ONE OF THE LOUDEST ROCK BANDS IN THE WORLD AND HE'S THE LEAD GUITARIST!!!!

Shock, horror and aghastness abounded as i ambled along the magazine rack in Asda the other day. I avoided all the Katie Price and Alex Reid stories and stumbled across a headline in one of the music mags. Basically it was ROGER DALTREY saying that 'cos him n' PETE TOWNSHEND are both 'shagged out' and...(this is where the shock n' horror an' agahstness really kicks in!)...THE WHO MAY HAVE TO STOP PERFORMING!!!!...

Roger has trouble with the voice, but has managed to overcome that as his apparently triumphant performance at the R.A.C.(No, not the car people..the ROYAL ALBERT HALL..if you dont mind!)..of QUADROPHENIA. But he's also having hearing troubles. But not as bad asthe almost deaf Mr Townshend, who's tinitus may be beyond repair. So one of the loudest guitarists in the world could be playing ,blowing the eardrums of stadiums full of fans and not knowing if his guitar is plugged in.

THE WHO were officially once registered as the loudest band in the world. I think it was a concert at CHARLTON F.C.( Probably the only thing Charlton fc is famous for.) The noise, apparently was the equivalent to five atom bombs going off in your living room. If your standing three feet in front of the speakers producing this cacopheny of sound, i'm sure the ol' tympanic membrane (ear drum ,ya ignorant gets)...aren't built for that kind of hammering.

The other possible cause for Townshends ears was the famous filmed version of a performance of MY GENERATION, on American telly and at the climatic instrument smashing end, KEITH MOON thought it'd be a bit of a wheeze if he dynamited the drum kit. Which he duly did. The explosion knocked Townshend sideways across the stage and was reputed to have added to all the other drum wreckage across the stage a set of perforated eardrums belonging to poor ol' Pete.

The other probable cause ,which is a lesson in this MP3 n' all that stuff age. Its been said that Townshends lug'oles have taken a hammering from earphones over the years in the recording studios, etc. Its not suprising really. The old earphones were cushioned and 'clamped around the head. Whereas the modern earphones actuall bore deep into the ear cavity. The noise can still be heard from the far end of a train carriage. I dont know which is the more annoying the actual ,being able to hear the music being played;Or the buzzing ,when you can hear the noise, but not make out the track. Yes, i know i'm a moanin' ol' fart, i've a loving(?) family that constantly remind me.

IF YOU START PADDLING YOU MIGHT CROSS THE ATLANTIC AND MAKE THE SHREWSBURY CARTOON FESTIVAL!

iTS THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN...THE SHREWSBURY CARTOON FESTIVAL is about to explode into inky action when cartoonists are either mad bad n inky or mad bad n boozed up. Where the main squares are full of cartoonists drawing cartoons on boards or bored drawing cartoons and caricatures in all temperatures and weathers. Being as well as a stupid breed a hardy bunch of breeders or bleeders, i'm still not too sure which. I never imagined that the nice town of Shrewsbury and the not so nice deranged scribblings of the countries cartoonists would be tied up with an erupting volcano over in Iceland ,but it is. There was meant to be a bunch of scribblers from 'Darn under! coming along, but thats looking extreemly dodgy .And a very talented caricaturist and friend ROBERT LAFONTAINE from Canada was going to come over. We had cleared the lawnmower and various bits of stuff so he could sleep in the shed at 'chez Leatherbarrows' for a few days and then we would hit Shrewsbury together. But likewise i cant see that coming to pass!

Last night i spoke to him on the phone and over in Canada nobody seemed to know what was occurring. At that time no plane at all was flying in British airspace from anywhere to anywhere for another couple of days. So i advised Robert to get the kids dinghy and start paddling if he wanted to get to Shrewsbury. Then a mere few hours later on ,when the multi million pound losing air authorities arm wrestled the goverment in a drinking lounge in the bowels of Westminster, in to lifting the ban on aircraft flying over British airspace. In a matter of hours the skies were safe and theres nothing to worry about. We know that cos the minister for safety said so.

If anyone out there is flying over the Atlantic just keep a look out for a lean tall guy with an art portfolio in a dinghy

NEWS FLASH......Our hero has made Blighty. And as i type he's having a wander around the fair city of Liverpool. I dont know how Quebec compares to the 'pool', but he's got to face Warrington later on!.......Bon chance ,mon ami.....

WHATS KEEPING ALL THAT VOLCANIC ASH UP THERE?

Convection currents n' bullshit ,thats wot! After the travesty of a party leaders debate last week it was found the only good thing to come out of it was that all the hot air n' bull shit convectional currents given off prevented all the ash from landing on Manchester. Our beloved leaders are now being shunted strategically around the country ,not only to bore the arse off us all with 'their policies' and how its time and our chance for change ,blah ,blah ,blah yak ,etc,etc, etc, and on...But the main reason for shunting them around the country is so that all the hot air they give out is prodding and shoving all this volcanic ash up into the higher stratosphere and not coming down to cover us down here on the ground .Covering the houses and gardens and causing coughing n' spluttering on plague-like proportions.The main news coverage is about people stuck in airports around the world. But what about the abundant numbers of cheap car wash's around 'our way' manned by grinning foreign looking lads who dont speak a word of English. They would literally 'clean up' if all the ash coated the land, but it looks like they will lose out if the ash stays up there. Thats unfortunate for them ,but like everybody else in their new homeland they've got something to blame the politicians about.

EXCUSE ME !...BUT WHAT IGNORANT GET SAID GOOD MANNERS COST NOTHING, AND POLITNESS DOESNT HURT?

This very morning something on the telly made reference to a newspaper article about ,how good manners and politness is in a sharp decline. I absolutly refute this 'nothing else to stick on the page, so we'll put this on to get a mention on the telly news programmes less serious moments story- headline.'.....As someone who always holds the door open for people and who will give up my seat for the old ,needy and extreemly sexy. I know its not the good manners and politness thats on the decline, but the polite response from the increasingly ignorant shower to whom i hold the doors open to and give up my ,by now warmed up seat.

I go into town shopping ,for my sins ,with the Lovely Lynne(not sins with the Lovely Lynne ,the shopping, sadly.) When i'm entering or leaving a shop, i'll hold the door open if theres somebody nearby. If i'm lucky i'll get a barely responsive grunt from the recipient of my well-meaning action. But ,not often. What often happens ,people speed up to take advantage of the open door ,and often whole families pile through ,mum, dad ,kids ,bloody prams, the lot .Nobody would consider pressing their hand against the door to hold it open for themselves or their brood. So yours truly ,grinding his teeth, but too polite to say anything stands there like a bloody idiot as a queue starts to stretch across the concourse waiting to be allowed through the door. As they stomp past ,most dont even give a sideways glance as i give filthy disbelieving looks in all directions at the ignorant shower of bastards who're walking past me ,who've walked past me and yet to walk past me.

The other fun-packed way of passing a few moments is to give up your seat to somebody on a train or bus. I've stood to let some old dear or a pregnant woman, or whoever sit, and ,on the whole get a guarded response. But quite often someone else will pile past slamming their shoulder into me or their palm into my face knocking me back like a foreward fending off a tackle in the Rugby 6 nations championships. Then ,once they've parked their fat ignorant stupid arse on the seat that i've kindly warmed for them. Not a word is uttered to me ,or the person to whom i'd originally intended the seat for. They sit gazing with a fixed glassy stare straight ahead, totally oblivious to anything you may have to say to them.

So whoever said good manners doesnt cost anything and politness doesnt hurt....Except for the battering to your ego and confidence by being ignored; The ruination of your day as you try and hold in your temper; And your growing dissappointment in people, except for that ,they may well have a point.

THE LITTLE HARD-ON COLLIDER HELPING TO DISCOVER THE BASIC BUILDING BLOCKHEADS OF THE POLITICAL UNIVERSE!

When the LARGE HADRON COLLIDER whacked a couple of sub-atomic particles together at 9.999999999999999%recurring, the speed of light, these protons ,using the equation describing the relationship between mass and energy....E=MC2. The resultant energy release was meant to show conditions billionths of a second after the BIG BANG, the event wot caused us all to be here. Along with all the other stars, galaxies , planets, and the French. Who knows the sub-atomic particles could've been split into even more basic sub-sub-Atomic particles, which could've caused the creation of even more sub-sub-sub-Atomic particles, the basic building blocks of the universe and the whole of creation itself. Mind-boggling and as fantastic as it may seem ,there is an even greater mystery that needs to be solved.

This mystery,the creation of the political universe and the bacic building blockheads that it was formed from will be solved by the SMALL HARD-ON COLLIDER. This device will fire the most basic SUB-HUMAN particles, the political party leaders at each other at the mind numbing speed, much faster than the speed of light. The SPEED OF POLITICAL BLAME. Using the political equation E=MP2, showing the relationship between expenses and MP's pay, hopefully there should be some fascinating results. The sub-human particles could shatter into even more basic sub-sub human particles than MP's and party leaders ,hard as it is to believe. The political energy released could produce miniature black holes, commonly known as policies. These may form WORMHOLES to other dimensions .The political particles may worm, or crawl through the aptly named inter dimensional gateways. Eventually the political particle may explode into the nothingness of another empty dimension. It wouldnt be a Big Bang ,as any politician wherever he is, even a new dimension, would be canvassing for votes for the GENERAL ELECTION. So, possibly a universe could be formed from a BIG YAWN. The hot air and wasted energy radiated into the void by any bullshitting politician worth his salt would be more than enough to start the formation of stars, planets, galaxies ,a whole new universe with the same old politics.

LETS SHUTTLE CRAFT OFF THIS MORTAL COIL AND FLY INTO SPACE WITH THE RUSSIANS!!!!...(Or...Eeeer!...Baikonur, ve haveski a problemski!)

Being a cartoonist ,i'm obviously financially well-off. And having the lovely Lynne running the banking system of the country(i must point out , its not the part thats nose- dived deep into the s**t, and your having to pay to dig out, but the good bank thats alright and the sun is still shining on.)...But between us ,gosh n' golly we're absolutly loaded, absolutly 'rolling in it(?)......So ,as a nice easter present she paid for me to be a 'SPACE TOURIST'. Great stuff, magical even ,until we tried to book a SPACE SHUTTLE on SPACE SHUTTLE RESERVATIONS.COM. It was then to my shock n' horror and severe dissapointment and disbelief i discovered that Americas first Irish ,Afro- President BALLCOCK O'BARNPOT Had cancelled the Space Shuttle programme. So, instead of a few days in Florida at Universal studios and Disneyland ,before going to CAPE CANAVERAL and blasting of into orbit on ATLANTIS....I would have to go to a desert in Russia. In the middle of this desolate nowhere land is a particually desolate piece of nowhere, where stands a particually delapodated ,slightly rusty looking heap of tanks ,pipes and scaffolding. This is BAIKONUR COSMODROME.Where the Russians launch their Soyuz space craft from. I was shown the craft which due to the fact theres no money, hasn't been updated since the 1960's.... I noticed scratched on the entry hatch ..Y. GAGARIN WOZ ERE '61.

Whereas, the Americans check n' treble check their craft right up until launch. The Russians walk around it; Whack it a few times with a hammer; Have a small religous blessing, then whack a few vodkas down...Apparently thats the only way they can get the crew on board.

Eventually we were on board and all of a sudden there was loud banging and thuds and high pressure steamvalves exploding. yes it was 'lift off'! The cockpit shook and rattled, i thought my teeth were going to crack into fragments, must remember not to spit them out if they do. The weightless bits of incisor and molar might bite somebodies eye out....International relations are tricky enough things to maintain. And an Eastern eye poked out by Western Capitalistic teeth n 'fillings could herald WORLD WAR 3. But suddenly the noise and shaking eased slightly. The Captain pointed his thumb over his shoulder and one of the crew shovelled some more coal into the boiler to give the ship a little more thrust to push us into orbit.

As we floated about the cockpit(clang..My head).....I peered through the mucky window with sqashed flies plastered across it and could just about see the Earth. (clang....My Knee!).......Eventually we approached the INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION.... It looked like a model of the brass bedstead in BEDKNOBS N' BROOMSTICKS' made from metal toilet roll holders....The design consultant could've been VALERIE SINGLETON during her BLUE PETER days which were round about when the Russian space fleet was designed. As i looked up(clang...my head)..At the docking tunnel i could see scrapes, dints and dents all around it. The captain laughed "Ah pilot has too much of the wodka,da!". I've a week on board this tubular contraption floating around (clang, clang, clang clang.....head, knee, elbow....etc,etc,etc.) Working out how to force space food into my mouth and then trying to figure out how to get rid of it from the other end...

I couldnt wait to finally float down towards the cool blue waters of the Pacific ocean under a canopy of parachutes. Until it was explained to me that the Russians specialised in HARD LANDINGS....Landing in the middle of the desert. Just before make contact with the ground they fire booster rockets to slow the craft down to ease contact ,apparently it works quite well, sometimes......It was then that i noticed how strange tears look in weightless conditions as i burst out crying and begged somebody to pass the wodka!!!!!!

I'D'VE PREFERRED A FIRING SQUAD, BUT A HUNG PARLIMENT SEEMS LIKE A GOOD IDEA!

Oh let joy be unrestrained its been announced that in a months time we'll all race breathlessly down to church halls and schoolgyms all across the land to put a tick in a box to help decide which bunch of slimey shitheads are going to screw us up for the next bunch of years.A bunch of years which, will be much the same, if not seperated at birth as the last bunch of years . The new set of earnest ,yet sincere faces to most of us will seem exactly he same as the last lot. But to the expert perceptive eye The differences will be more than apparent. As most animal experts their specialist breed of animals do attain a character and personality of their own and become familiar over a period of time and keen observation ,say of apes in the rain forests. Politicians, they are a breed of creature. Instead of fur ,scales or rough hides , they have posh suits and quaffered hair. And it will take a perceptive eye to spot the differences.And a keen understanding to discern any personality ,your better off with the apes!...

.A hung parliaments ok ,but surely we can find a more diabolical way of making them suffer. Firing squads ,flame throwers , clubs with sharp bits sticking out ,pits of venomous snakes, Locked in a room with endless opposition party political broadcasts playing on a giant screen at deafening volume ,or just anything with Tony Blair speaking sincerly.

This piccie was another used by those nice people at HA!...They have a sharp eye for talent ,as ever have a look at the link on the right of the page, at the top it says HA! you can't miss it.

LIVERPOOL'S GOT WIND!

My old Irish grannie used to say people were "full of Piss n' wind!"....A very wise lady was my ol' granny! Being from the fair city of Liverpool many of my friends n' colleagues from all points north, south ,east n' west of that fine city have voiced similar sentiments. As most scousers do seem to be partial to the odd drink and have a lot to say for themselves .But this has never bothered me ,as most of the Fine folk that line the banks of the River Mersey ,being of Irish heritage we do like a drink and do like to talk and have a 'bit of a crack (no not the drug)'...So many scousers do like 'going on the piss' and a good drinker needs good wind,(to talk and pass) like a set of bagpipes needs to keep the bag inflated to keep playing. But it has come to pass its not the people of Liverpool that are full of wind ,but the city itself.
Apparently some smartarse clever people have worked out a way of extracting methane gas from the coal seams under the city, hugh chunks of the northwest , and out into the mersey bay and Irish sea. This will supply power to thousands of homes and industries,( or those that are left). And keep us going 'till we're overun with nuclear power stations..So this thousand millenia -old fart gas will undoubtably turn Liverpool into a miniature Texas, so there!
So if your with me one day on the piss and your smell a farty gaseous smell, it wasn't me it came out of the ground, under the cracks in the pavements of the backstreets of the fine city of Liverpool, so there!
I got all this from my blogging mate 'Thud',from his blog 'OVER THE WATER',which you can click on over on the link side of the page, he's linked into a newspaper article explaining it all. He's a clever lad....Now, he is full of P&w!!!!!...Only jokin' ,mate!

JORDAN BOOBED AND GOT HER TWO BIGGEST BOOBS MIXED UP!

The other week i was walking the dog through some local woods and espied not one, but two Asda trolleys stood side by side amongst the undergrowth and thought isnt nature wonderful now spring is sprung, shook my head and wandered off. When i got in to the house ,i put the kettle on and the telly, just to help me plug into whats going on in the world, you understand....Not to catch up on my Sky+ recordings, obviously ,'cos thats what you were thinking wasn't it. Hope your ashamed of yourself, judging people by your own low standards. But as soon as the picture appeared there was something about JORDAN/KATIE PRICE, now theres a suprise thought i. Apparently she was talking husbands and out of the two boobs she's been married to ,she got the names mixed up and was talking about her 'ex'PETER ANDRE, rather than the present cage fighting /Holloaks(?) acting new Mr Jordan: ALEX REID. So, obviously this was the big news beamed to all four corners of the globe. Again i found myself shaking my head...I'll get the hang of life ,one day, i s'pose.
I had a look up (phnaar, phnaar) of Katie Price on the computer and read about this silly cow who is, well everywhere and with everyone and every ,every that the ultimate' chav',can get involved in and squeeze as much publicity out of Thats not my description, by the way ,before cage fighters start kicking the door in. She was born in '78 ,so she's about 30 and she's had 3 autobiographies published. Jeez! i'm (aaaaagh!) 50, this year and i'm not sure i could fill one. Her private(?) life has been documented and filmed before, during and after her marriages .She'll appear at the flipping of a coin. Now shes writing, with ghost writers ,novels and childrens books. But ,apparently she has been refused addmission to some high class events ,such as CARTIER- sponsored Royal polo tournament, as "she's not the type of person we'd like attending our functions". The Queen goes n' she gets in(?).....Funny that!.. Couts bank refused her, even though she had the money reqired for them to let you in. Whatever she is ,or does ,she has about FORTY MILLION POUNDS !!!!....for doing it. Good luck to you, girl ....I'm shaking my head again.
She travels the world to get her nails done and hair extensions put in. I saw a picture the other day and she is a big busty girl . And this is after shes had her boob job reversed and made smaller as she was worried they'd start to droop after the birth of her kids.....My god!, if they did start to droop ,she'd need to wheel them around in an Asda shopping trolley, or two, one for each. Those two in the woods ?..Nah they couldnt be, I've not seen her mentioned in the WARRINGTON GUARDIAN......The heads shaking again!

MISSION DEAD IMPOSSIBLE

Well they can give him all the time they want before 'this message self destructs', as Jim Phelps the fearless leader of the IMPOSSIBLE MISSION FORCE(IMF), or that lot from MISSION IMPOSSIBLE, that great ol' series from the sixties. Jim was played by craggy faced twinkly eyed Peter Graves. Sadly, aptly named considering he recently'popped his clogs' and died. Any more missions, unless they invole clouds, harps n' halos will prove bloody impossible. Or as they say in good ol' Scouseland "Dead impossible,mate".
Ah well another link to my formative years snaps. It was a great old show and everybody remembers the music and the explosive fuse fizzing away as the way over the top, but wonderful opening credit sequence ran. Then Jim would turn up in the middle of nowhere in a kids toy warehouse on a merry go-round; A ladies toilet on an oil rig: A shed on an allottment in the middle of the artic circle,or someplace as equally obvious to recieve secret instructions. He then had to listen to a tape message that would tell him about some general or scientist from behind the 'iron curtain', always from countries that ended with'DAVIA'. Then the voice would tell him they were in deep shit if they were caught as nobody was going to admit to knowing anything about anything. They'd wish him 'good luck' and inform him the tape was going to blow up in his face in ten seconds....Its a great life being a secret agent.

The cartoon was featured in HA magazine, just click the link to the side and you'll be whisked away.

CARTOONISTS AND POP STARS ARE SEX SYMBOLS,MARK OWEN FROM TAKE THAT,TOOK LOTS OF 'THAT',I'D LIKE TO TAKE SOME OF 'THAT' TO,BUT THE MISSUS WONT LET ME!

Aaah after years of gallavanting around the world posturing and performing in front of thousands of screaming adoring gurls....It has come as an astounding shock to one n' all that the saintly Mark Owen, the 'nice guy' from 'Take That' has been a little too nice a little too often and took that what the adoring hormone riddled screaming gurls had to offer. Funnily enough his missus wasn't as understanding as myself and other such 'men(ok and gurls,chiz chiz) of the world'. This is possibly due to the fact being a cartoonist and caricaturist ,once of great renown, i would travel around weilding my brushpen to the adoring public. Admittedly i didnt have quite the response that maybe 'Take That' hitting town or a Boyzown, or whatever ,but a few kids seemed quite taken with me. Nah, i could've had my pick,gurls would gaze adoringly, i think, at the top of my head as i peered intently at the fine precise ink lines on the paper, then occassionally glancing up to see if her eyelids were the same size, if her ears were level, if she had a full set of teeth and how far down her top chin did her bottom lip droop. Important things for a caricaturist.Romance could've bloomed n' blossomed many many times but for the queues of people i had to bloody draw before i could lay the irresistable Leatherbarrow charm on anyone. By the time i'd got the chance there was only me and a curled up ham sandwich on a crumb riddled plate on one of the empty tables, if i was lucky, before my long lonely five hour drive through the night. But i'm having a quiet time of it these days. So i thought i'd ask the Lovely Lynne if it was ok for me to have ten affairs, as she's out a lot of the time and it'd be nice to have an outside interest. Much to my suprise she seemed quite keen, until i realised she thought i'd said something about me buying her some 'Furs'. She thought they'd look quite smart when she has to go to these banking 'do's', or if she's playing with her band at various 'gigs'. But when she realised her mistake she wasn't so accomodating. Why would i want to have torrid affairs when we've had SKY+ fitted? So my cartoonist sex appeal is laying unused, gathering dust. The last time it was put to good use, just to show you how uncontrollable i was, it was with the Lovely Lynne. I was working at her bank and she fell madly in love with me and married me...It's a dangerous thing this sex appeal.

TRAVEL MAY NOT BROADEN THE MIND ,BUT IT BROADENS THE HIPS!

Having just returned from a more than well deserved holiday across the Atlantic pond in the wild untamed themeparks of Orlando.Stuffing our faces at a variety of help yourself buffet restaurants and having a lot to drink in everywhere else. In lovely sunny Florida, i caught a cold after getting soaked by that killer whale and the girl he killed a few days later. This drama and adrenaline pumping ride-fest(after 2 hour queues) was followed by a week on a cruise around a bit of the Carribean on a 30-storey, 5 mile long luxury cruise ship. The boats are made that size to accomodate the people who go on cruises(of which we aren't). Very large ungainly ,definitley not streamlined, like the boat ,take time to get' up to speed' and have trouble coming to a stop. So the passageways above and below decks are constantly filled with very strange shaped older people shuffling along. You have to be in possession of swivel hips and boxers feet to avoid collisions. But with the stop offs on various tropical isles and copious amounts to eat n' drink i can think of worse ways to pass my time. Only the other day my beloved 'lovely Lynne'treated me to a breakfast in Asda. (There! I told you she loved me.) There you are one morning on the sunny deck off the coast of Honduras having a luxury gut busting fruit n' pancake breakfast. One week later your choosing what greasy fried combination you want slapped onto your plate in the cafe in Asda ,Warrington.

Once back i have found it damn near impossible to get back to writing this rubbish. Stop clapping and cheering, i'm a sensitive soul you vicious bastards. The brain and the imagination just would not function, absolutly nothing was there to light the blue touch paper of the imagination.And they say travel broadens the mind ? The food and drink might have broadened the hips as the Lovely Lynne keeps complaining. I suppose its just as well i dont write travel books, Bill Brysons got nothing to worry about for a while anyhow. I'll sit and gaze out of the window and see what flotsam and jetsam drifts into the vacumn of my imagination. A total void cannot exist as is proven by the theory of the 'big bang ' suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Maybe i'll have an imaginary' big bang'.......(Ooooh' err, missus!)....Sigh.....only in my imagination!!!

WHAT DO 'THE WHO', SKY +, N' A SORE LEG HAVE IN COMMON?

ME, THATS WHAT!....... A week ago , i woke in the middle of the night shivering and shaking with a raging fever, it was a patriotic fever ,my leg ,where some infection had started (cellulitis, for those clever medical sorts) was red and the rest of me freezing to death was blue except for my clenched jaws and knuckles which were white. The following week was spent in and out of sleepy byes on the setee in front of the telly catching up on all the stuff we'd recorded. This was interuppted by the occasional howls of agony as i tried to stand to go for a pee, which is quite a lot as they've given me so many tablets that i truly do rattle when i move. And to aid the consumption of these truly awful tasting tablets i'm drinking gallons of water and ,of course tea. But all was forgotten and forgiven the other night as i went to bed and left SKY+ on, to record the SUPER BOWL!!!..Not through the slightest interest or understanding of or in AMERICAN FOOTBALL, But because, the Yanks ,Gawd bless 'em ,dont do things by halves.....AT HALF TIME THEY HAD THE WHO IN CONCERT!!!!!! Over here ,half time you go for a piss , over there they watch THE WHO?....I've no idea when they go for a pee, must be during the 8 hours of football, they wouldnt go during THE WHO...Even the Yanks aren't that much of a philestines.
But i hobbled from bed to settee and fast forewarded the SKY+ through the 4n' a half hours of the first half and ,finally there , in all their glory ,PETE TOWNSHEND and ROGER DALTREY! They let rip on an awsome circular platform with light displays ,rockets and lasers and were wonderful. At the start , with the crowd away in the darkness in the middle of a huge empty field with 12 minutes to 'do the works' .Ol' Daltrey started a little hoarse, but by the time they finished with WONT GET FOOLED AGAIN, Daltreys scream was as good as ever he's done .And Townshend 'exploded,' leaping ,windmilling and 'blistering' as only Townshend can. And a poorly sick dying man didn't feel quite so miserable, i almost bounced off the settee and leapt into the air to do a few air windmills ,a'la Townshend ,but that might not've been a good idea. But from there things started looking up . I'd gotten my WHO-BOOST, and i'm going on holiday and i'm walking. Tried a Townshend leap , but soon found out , it probably wasn't the brighest thing i've done recently, nearly pulled my shoulder muscle and landed on my bad leg and nearly bit through my lip stifling a scream. To give you an example of the differences between our transatlantic cuzins and ourselves. Whereas the super bowl half time show was THE WHO. Warringtons half-time rugby league show was....JEDWARD!!!!!.....I cant give a critique on that show as for some reason i didnt record that showbiz spectacular.

I was going to train every day so i'd look wonderful and DANIEL CRAIG-like in my 'cozzy', but i've been flat on my back for a fortnight and my legs all lovely ,blistered with a skin like a blood orange, swollen and where this rough skin has missed the rest is a bright crimson colour, very pretty. The problem is in comparison to the white spindley other leg it looks a little odd. Don't think i'll be bothering with my 'cozzy'!

SIKH DAGGERS AND SAMURAI SCHOOLKIDS DO THE BASH STREET KIDS BECOME THE SLASH STREET KIDS?

School and all aspects of improving our fertile young brains has always been a breathtakingly dangerous experiance. Beginning from the ungodly hour we started the long trekto school and our first bad tempered scowling teacher of the day ,until the trek home at the end of the dayafter our last bad tempered scowling teacher of the day .In those days we did a full day educating , none of this finishing about two o'clock in the afternoon. In the morning we had to get a double decker bus laid on esspecially for us. The bus was absolutly 'chokka-Block 'full.....Then at hometime the same scally hoardes were supplied with a single decker bus ,which if you missed ,well!...Tough shit ,basically!...The bell went at 4 o'clock and the bus was full by 30 seconds past. There was no waiting for sir or miss to give you permission this wasn't school discipline this was a fight for survival. I saw lads break bones on that crush in the home bus, absolutly insane it was....None of your health n' safety for the fruit and hopes of the future in them far flung days.

 I went to a really good grammar school and ,basically being a lazy bastard 'Blew it!'....Thats how i became a cartoonist!....It was run by the De La Salle catholic brothers and when we saw them in their full length black smocks with a little card  white brotherly looking collar....Us little snotty kids totally 'bottled it!'
The headmaster was about 6foot 6" tall ,but they called him 'THE SKULL'... And you only had to look at his thin boney face to know why !....There were civilian teachers, some absolute bastards ,but all quite happy to inflict pain in a variety of cunning sneaky , ingenious ways , which even as you were being battered you had to admire the skill and technique only attained through years of practise that was going into the infliction of pain into you !

Fear was the tool by which the knowledge and education was crammed into our totally uninterested boyish brains. Homework was only done if you were afraid of the teacher of that subject, but even then it wasn't done at home. The work was copied off someone on the bus in the morning and finished in the classroom before lessons began. The work was in two , blindingly obvious stages ...Firstly the totally indecipherable writing done while crammed on the moving bouncing  bus. Secondly , the slightly less awful ,but twice as rushed from the fairly stable classroom before the lesson began.

When we had playtime we had 47 -a-side games of 'footy' with a TENNIS BALL'???....Which for obvious reasons resulted in busted toes ;twisted ankles ,but most annoyingly ,for parents causing a pair of shoes to last about a week!

. I've never smoked in my life, but a lot of my mates would go around the back of some sheds and trying to look cool puffing ,gasping n' coughing on some ciggies. The teachers all knew when and where they wer so just took turns to leave the ciggie smoke filled staff room to grab the kiddie smokers and haul them out. Not having had a fag, when i tried to plead my innocence i was told "SHUT UP, LEATHERBARROW!"...But not me ,in my never ending quest for right and justice i would go on and on and in  the end would find myself in front of the BRUCE LEE of the cane....BROTHER DAMIAN....'THE SKULL'....He whizzed that cane like BRUCE LEE'S nunchuka's. If you see any of my old teachers and mention me they will probably be suprised i'm still alive as they thought i was smoking about 70 ciggies a day when i was 12.

Many of you ol' farts out there will remember reading the BEANO, DANDY,SPARKEY, BEEZER, etc,etc full of good ol' tales of kids getting' whacked' by 'teecher'!.....In fact, like me many will remember the various forms of torture and tools of torture that were used in real life. The canes old, new, battered ,thick, thin ,long, short; As were the belts; Pumps ,galloshes and even rugby boots. But the simplest were the unerring accuracy of the piece of chalk or board duster which flew across a class of snotty little schoolboys as if controlled by a form of laser guidance system avoiding the 'innocent'and homing in on the guilty target, normally just above the nose. And of course there was the unarmed torture; Pinching earlobes; Pulling the hair that would one day become your manly sideburns; Various,pinching, prodding, poking, pulling, slapping, etc, etc, all good fun, but i have to admit it did keep us in a form of control and discipline which the snotty little bastards of these more enlightened days have no concept of. Now teachers have no defence against the snotty little monsters they have to face. As we live in more enlightened times and every classroom is filled to the gunnels with all race and creeds; Languages ceremonial dress, etc, etc. But it has turned dangerously insane....

Awhile ago a Sikh judge  decreed that a Sikh boy shouldnt've had his ceremonial dagger taken from him in school one day. So whereas everybody ,in schools, colleges, airports, etc aren't allowed to carry sharp implements of any kind, schoolkids can carry ceremonial daggers into the class. Soon Japanese Samurai schoolkids will go for lessons with their Katana sword; Scottish kids'll have a Dirk down their sock like the children of Gurkhas with their Kukri's. English kids can have a sabre, the welsh can have an axe, the irish have their swords and shelaleoughs(sorry about the spelling). Various other peoples around the world in lots of nice places dont seem to carry swords, but carry AK47 machine pistols or rocket launchers, but i'm not totally sure there for ceremonial reasons......Must be wonderful being a teecher, once all they had to worry about was catapults(yes, i actually made one that worked, it wasn't just Dennis the Menace) and the variety of inky,snotty,flemmy things that could be flicked from a ruler, a ceremonial wooden 12 inch school ruler, before they became ceremonial 30 cm plastic school rulers.

OH, OH, OH WHAT A LOVELY PROFITABLE WAR!!!!

Once upon a time there was a time when 'our boys'...Who've neveractually gone to war, butmore along the lines of having been sent to war. But they'd go off to the land of the baddies and give them a good seeing to and the flag would flutter high and proud over the latest aquisition to the empire. All well and good and perfectly reasonable. 'our boys ' would be armed and ready and well supplied for any eventuallity or resurgence of 'baddies' activities that may and normally did occur in the future. Our latest military jaunt has taken 'our boys' to that desolate hell hole that was, is and will always be Afghanistan. Why we're there? who knows! How long we're there for?....Who knows!....All we know is that a group of fellahs living in the mountains who've never been defeated by various invaders throughout history, even the might of the Soviet army and they're next door neighbours. These sweethearts're blowing the hell out of our badly equipped and funded 'lads', (gawd bless the politicians) with roadside bombs n' booby traps ; rockets and a variety of 'stuff guarenteed' to upset a good nights sleep, if you knew that some psychotic nutjob was on a hill nearby overlooking your base armed to the teeth with said 'stuff'. But the politicians have decided we shall not curl up and surrender!.....No, we're British!....WE'LL PAY THEM TO RENOUNCE VIOLENCE!!!!!.....So the British taxpayer will be comforted in the knowledge, that, instead of paying for equipment for 'our boys', we'll be paying to keep their boys happy.

And this groundbreaking military genius doesnt end there, no! The 'Homeland,the battlefield that is 'good ol' Blighty, herself'. As we all know and the 'spooks' in MI5, and all the various security and police departments know there are hoards of terrorists living free and easy in the land that they want to blow to hell. Apparently their assetts are frozen and money spent must be accounted for with receipts ,much as any businessman must do. But this is, TERRORRISTISM, so no checks any more on our terrorrists they can help themselves to any money and benefits they are no doubt entitled too. There, that'll show 'em.

INVADE OR SEND IN AID, THERES NO DIFFERENCE TO THE GOOD OL U.S.

After the horrific eartquakes that hammered the hell out of Haiti the other week, people still manage to survive ,even though there was a terrible loss of life, illness and injury and streets full of rubble and rubbish; A goverment totally useless and unable or unwilling to help its people....Basically at the end of the day the standard of living post disaster isn't that much different than it was before. The main shock to the world is that people ignored the place when it was a poverty stricken shit hole, but now its gained a bit of respectability being a disaster zone it has the eyes and attention of the world on it for now, anyhow. Pop stars that most Haitians have been fortunate enough never to have heard and movie stars they've never seen, and , of course Cheryl Cole and Simon Cowell, who even the Haitians know. They've all got together to have give a hand and be sincere. Stars and politicians(which are very similar creatures in the U.S.) spoke of rebuilding Haiti, giving the locals work; rebuilding the infrastructure and industry, imports and exporting produce ,etc, etc. All very nice and sincere, but stuff that Haiti never had or did in the first place.

Aid workers powered in from all over the place and did their best, as did the U.S. But even the locals as well as all the other countries were angered and upset the way the US took over 'the show', as the military literally invaded the island. The US have a long history of sending aid and 'security advisors' to help protect , help and police foreign reigions, its just getting them to go home after thats the tricky bit.

THE PRO'S N' CONS OF REAL FALSE FOOTS AND REAL ARTIFICIAL ARMS !

Now that ,'I'm a celebrity, x-Factor and all the rest of the shit on the box that makes life so worth living is over for now, except for Big Brother, but nobody actually watches that, do they? but now as we're 15 feet in snow drifts the 'finger on the pulse' telly execs give us celebrity ice skating. The main reason i dont like the ice skating is because whenever they show the skaters crashing to the ice, my arse twitters and my teeth grind as it makes me cringe seeing people fall on ice. The other thing that makes me cringe is seeing people hit with cricket balls. I've suffered injuries from ice and cricket balls and still get the oral and anal clenches when i see it happen on the telly. So the forthcoming weekends are going to be periods of tension for me as celebrities go arse over tit left right n' centre.

One of the celebrities is the ex-Mrs McCartney, probably not the most popular of people ,but trying for the public vote with smiles and dancing, good luck to her, esspecially as she's only got one foot. She can't win as i've already heard people commenting on how the foot will be a handicap ,but she's using it as an excuse to stay in the competition, a little unfair, i think, but people will think the worst of celeb's, all part of the job, m'dearies.

But whose to say she wont go all the way. I've seen and personally know people with false legs/feet. A member of my family lost his leg as a lad in the 50's, so his leg was a wooden heavy thing, but he still played Irish football and Hurling and still is very active. I have a wonderful picture of him doing the Can-Can, in a bar in Ireland at a funeral. He kicked his leg out and the foot went sailing across the lounge. The photo shows a mass of bog-eyed drinkers watching this flying foot. I must point out ,it was deliberatly loosened, he's a lad is 'our Sean.' But the handicap never handicapped him.

When i 'were nobbut a lad', i used to see all the film baddies; Ersnt stavro Blofeld; Dr No; Dr Strangelove; Mr Han, from 'Enter the dragon', they all had false hands ,and some used to have one hand in a leather glove, which i thought looked great, so i could often be seen with one glove on. A few of the baddies hands could crush bricks, except Mr Han who used to unscrew his hand off and replace it with various weapons like a tigers claw, or a knife hand, to cut chunks out of Bruce Lee in the hall of mirrors at the end of Enter the dragon. There was also an excellent comic strip called 'The Steel Claw', and i really fancied having a steel artificial hand. On the whole i think i'll stick with my god-given extremities, at least until cybernetic technology is up to the level where i can become the Six Million Dollar man for a few bob less.

ANY DAY NOW THEY'LL LIGHT THE RED TOUCH PAPER! AND GIVE RAFA THE ROCKET!

Every cloud has a silver lining ,for a cartoonist anyhow. Liverpool have had one ,if not the worst season in their history. Only last night being beaten by Reading of all people, at Anfield !(sob).....In fact Reading looked the better side and Liverpool looked the first division side instead of the great premiership side they should be. But on the plus side i can reuse my Rafa getting the' rocket' cartoon again. With his American chairmens launching him, as thats what yanks're good at launching things. In this case from Cape Anfield, has the countdown started.

GLOBAL CATASTROPHE, WILL IT BE GLOBAL WARMING; GLOBAL TERRORISM, OR GLOBAL ELVIS IMPERSONATORS???

During mankinds tenure upon this planet he has gone through various changes, mutated, evolved if you like. Standing upright, loss of body hair (which was alright ,but could've stopped when it came as far as the head, body fur ,well thats ok, but the old bald patches up top, now that was nature and evolution at their most petty.). The apes snout becoming a nose and mouth. The bright red monkey bum breaking up into smaller piles. But this evolution hasn't stopped yet. In the next decade a vast one third of the worlds population will develop swivel hips, on the way to evolve into wobbly bellies; Strangely gangly swinging knees; Highly curlable sneering top lips; Impossibly high greasy quiffs, with long wide sideburns. Language will undergo a change also, as a strong midwestern American twang type dialect prevails and phrases such as, "Well thank yuh very much ladies n' gentl'm'n... Ooh,Hoh!" and references to how you don't look like nuthin' like a'Hound dog', wich is important in the world of Elvis, apparently.... Dress will evolve as collars will be as high as the head and a form of jump suit with rhinestones and big belt buckles and a small cape will be the wardrobe of choice.



This is the dawn of the ELVIS PRESLEY IMPERSONATOR....Apparently ,there was some news report along the lines of:"When Elvis was alive, there was only a hundred or so impersonators, but now since his death the number is into hundreds of thousands, or something. But by the end of this new decade 2020(god, only 10 years away.)....At this rate of growth...ONE THIRD OF THE WORLDS POPULATION WILL BE ELVIS IMPERSONATORS!!!!! I thought that was the best news item of the year....But i can't help wondering what percentage of the other two thirds left will be, MICHAEL JACKSON IMPERSONATORS?

ONLY A FEW DAYS INTO THE NEW DECADE AND I'M SITTING SURROUNDED BY THE BROKEN REMAINS OF MY NEW YEAR/DECADE RESOLUTIONS.....

Yep!...I'm back, its only been a decade since last we spoke, so you probably haven't even noticed my absence as you recover from the festive session of sinful debauchery and overindulgence I'm proud of you, my children. So, as all you fellahs have got to squeeze all the new socks n' undies in to the bulging drawers full of socks n' undies from last year. And you ladies steal some more of that precious cupboard space for all them nice trendy cloths you got. Women never get knickers n' tights, no, they get nice things like cloths n' jewellery. Ah, such is the mans lot, be it the festive season or not ,to suffer to keep our ladies happy.
Christmas is a lazy slobby time of year ,sitting stuffing your face with food drink and sweeties. I doubt many of you have even set foot outside into the frost, snow and cold in over a fortnight.With about 4 stone in weight added to your fine physiques ,its not just the cloths getting tighter, but there doesn't seem to be as much room on the setee either. A strange thing happens, you get a little restless watching the telly and being warm and cosy all the time. Your watching festive films busting with endlessly repeated adventure and excitment; joy and happiness beamed through the flattened cathode ray tube. And tear-jerking things like Noel Edmonds christmas present All these things build you up ,ready for that annual total waste of time ,The NEW YEAR RESOLUTION!!!!!... The films, etc make you decide."Right ,this year, i'm going to make this year as full and exciting and as enjoyable as i can!".......And Noel Edmunds will have you in tears, swearing blind that you are going to help charity , the poor and needy and you are there to help your fellow man. This one ,thankfully, lasts only a very short period, possibly 10 minutes or so.....Wipe the tear away, put the kettle on and watch HOLIDAY ON THE BUSES, or something. That'll bring you back to Earth. The resolution to have a 'whizz-bang exciting year', may take a little longer. This includes taking care of yourself; Going to the gymn;Packing in the fags; Laying off the pop, etc.....But, you swear to all the gods you follow 2010 will not be spent and wasted, sitting around and allowed to grind by, like most others.........
Its the first monday of the new year/decade and i'm sitting watching the telly with a mug of tea, haven't gone to the gymn, took the dog out,done any reading( Spiderman on the bog doesn't count ,i don't suppose?)......Not a lot of effort gone into the first few days, but theres plenty of time....Isn't there?