Pen-blwydd orau erioed

Growing up, I was taught to appreciate everything. If someone has to get off their backside and do something for you, it should be appreciated accordingly.
A pat on the back for doing something good. A helping hand when I wasn’t strong enough to pump my football up. 50p here or there to buy sweets and chocolate. Yep, you could really do that back in my day !

Today I celebrated my 24th birthday.
It actually brought back memories of my blog some 365 days ago when I spoke of Estonians appreciating their mother tongue.
What’s birthday in Estonian?

But today has been different. Today I have enjoyed a day of being spoilt rotten- and as much as, alongside my parents’ teachings of appreciation of anything and everything, being spoilt is rather naughty…. Stuff it. It’s my birthday.

Over the last few days my closest friends have put what can only be described as an inhumane amount of effort and care into making my day wonderful. And that they have.
Doctor Who magazine (complete with do-it-yourself Dalek), Wrecsam scarf and over-sized hand ready for Wembley next weekend, bagels with Philly, wine (rosé, of course), various Liverpool FC goodies and heaps of lovely cards.

And as explained previously, as much as I now struggle to find the correct and apt wording to describe how fantastically amazed and blown-away I am, I genuinely appreciate everything.

Despite this…. you all lose!
Again taking nothing away from how brilliant my gifts and messages of good will and friendship are, you cannot top this:

Smiley, old-man face

Diolch

But if I vote yes….

Personally, I wish Wales would follow Scotland’s lead.
To even think of independence is a step in the right direction to prosperity and self sufficiency, whether their 300 years of Westminster influence comes to an end in 2014 or not.

So, from an interested Welshman to a contemplating Scot, here are four ideas I’ve accumulated on the extent of voting Yes;

If you vote yes, the British government can no longer reap the benefits of Scottish North Sea oil. But wouldn’t that make you all seem a tad selfish?

If you vote yes, Britain can no longer choose to TAX income at 20%. You could even end up paying less. But wouldn’t that just make you seem a wee bit pauper-like?

If you vote yes, British flags can’t fly in Scotland. But then people wouldn’t get to see Patrick and George’s crosses aloft your ancient buildings! Wouldn’t that suggest you’re all against multi-culturalism?

If you vote yes, the Gaelic and Scots languages would be even more free to spread their wings in a modern and technological world. But wouldn’t English tourists find that a little antisocial?

Over the next 18 months or so, those who benefit from a corrupt union of nations will feed you with the above information and talking-points.
They will push and pull and push some more so that failed legacies of Olympic competition are made to look ‘in Scotland’s interest’. They will aggravate the psyche into believing a foreign monarch has the Devine right to your prosperity. They will claim that Scotland will die.

I’m not a politician. I am an interested party who has read of revolution and of self-sufficiency. As a Welshman, I fear such a referendum will not touch my lifetime.

But you now have the chance to be your own nation’s heroes. To be a Mel Gibson. He’s a cool guy, right?
You have the right to succeed. You have the opportunity to win by peaceful means. You have the right to tell the world that no longer shall we be puppets. No longer shall we believe that our Scottish sporting heroes must sell-out to a money-bribing TeamGB to achieve fame and glory. No longer need you claim that the Calcutta cup represents a deep friendship.

I recently saw Scotland lose to Wales in a football match. Yet despite me witnessing a decent game of football with some good goals, the part that struck me most were the anthems…. In particular, Scotland’s.

“O Fhluir na h-Alba, cuin a chì sinn an seorsa laoich?”
“O Flouer o Scotland, when will we see Yer like again?”
“O Flower of Scotland, when will we see Your like again?”

2014

Wee smiley face

BU CHÒIR

Please show your / you’re working.

Aside from the grammatical ambiguity of today’s blog title, I wish to make note of the sarcastic comments I’ve been receiving today as a teacher off work (due to the snow, in case you’re reading this from outside Western Europe and wonder if I’m playing truant) whereas others have braved the harsh conditions to earn their bread.

My shower time formerly consisted of singing. Now they contain mass thoughts, much like the one fuelling this very blog.

I also thought of how another man’s job satisfaction – whether he today worked or not – gained a massive boost…. Theo Walcott.
The man now receives £100,000 per week for his services. The present current economic conditions forced me to ask whether he must pay 20% tax on said salary or it has already been deducted.

Now for someone who attempted A-level mathematics, this isn’t an easy thing for me to concede…. but say the £100,000 was post-tax pay, what would his gross pay be? I literally spent the whole time it took washing my comb-over working it out and then got nowhere.

So to prove to all that today has been a productive one for me, I pledge to work it out using this blog. And seeing as it’s maths, I’m going to show my working. See…. Title makes sense now, huh?

Do I take the trial-and-error route here? Surely there’s and easier way?

£128,000 minus 20% for tax would leave £102.400. So that’s not right…. unless the Gunners are paying him a little more for being a good and loyal boy?!

Right, I’m Googling it….

Oh bugger, I’ve just realised. £125,000. Sorry, blond moment! Does he actually earn that much before tax? Hmm, I understand women’s indifference on footballers’ pay now…. A bit, anyway!

Thanks for listening. Back to bed now

Lazy, smiley face

What’s the point in the Moon? Perspectives etc

Recently I purchased a new app for my ever-reliable Apple devices. The app, StarView, cost around £1.99 and involves the owner of said app searching the sky! The app works out the direction of the device and says what constellations, stars, planets and satellites (natural and man-made) are up there! It’s awesome!
The app also allows one to follow the orbit of certain objects. My illustration below shows the moon!

Now I’ve always been a fan of what’s up above us. Science rocks, after all!
When completing my degree I read of one of the first pieces of written Welsh – which spoke of astrology and the moon’s position at different times of the year. And I’m bound to find anything Welsh-related interesting, right?

My qualm lies, however, with it’s importance! What’s the point in the Moon?

Fine, it has been known to block small rocks / debris hurtling towards to the Earth. Thank you for that, Mr Man-in-the-Moon, by the way!
I’d guess that even Mare Tranquilitatis (woohoo, Latin) was formed by a monstrous object that was attracted to the gravitational pull of the Earth…. But even so, I’m sure the Americans would have sent up some Armageddon-like probe to sort out invading space-dust! Don’t ya’ just loooove the movies?

And ok, it produces light by reflecting from the Sun…. But be fair, we have streetlights now!

And who cares that it decides our tides. Ebbs and flows have been the architects of unexpected deaths since the dawn of time…. Who needs ‘em?

Rhiannon, Celtic goddess of the moon…. pffft, I’m sure she’d have found another job. We have Job Centres and everything nowadays.

And maybe it is rather pretty at night. Setting alight the sky that otherwise consists of darkness and flustering stars.

But what really is the point in that cheesy thing floating in the sky…. when she looks at it?

Smiley face

An effigy of whatever….

On the 5^th November, people across the British Isles will celebrate the fact that a group of men tried to blow up the English houses of Parliament. They will do this by creating a large bonfire (whose traditions derive from Wales and Cornwall [see Coelcerth / Coel Coth]) and placing the effigy of a human male at its peak and burning the lot!

A while back I raised the question about Catholicism and Protestantism with regards to the throne of England and her plundered acquisitions. I questioned why it was now incorrect to place a person of a Catholic stance on that hump of stolen gold in the Jewel House.

Guido (aka Guy) Fawkes also shared this interest in religious / regal debate. To be fair, I personally couldn’t care less who sits at the helm of elitist indoctrination over the peoples of the Commonwealth, my qualm lies with the fact that British people burn an effigy of a man!

Now I’m all for tradition. I love the way ancient beliefs and rituals celebrated by our ancestors can still be upheld today, but are we not instilling and enthusing hatred through celebrating this particular act? I know, kids, let’s burn a man alive! Granted, he was a rather naughty boy, but we’re all but condoning public executions and capital punishment.

Shall we not also uphold the tradition of burning witches? That’s long gone now but I guess James VI (incidentally the same guy who was nearly blown to pieces in 1605) made it all but tradition to burn females convicted of witchcraft in his day. Idiot!

If I’m honest, I’m mildly sad that James wasn’t transformed into smithereens (from the Gaelic term smidiriní meaning fragments) due to the hardship he enforced on the Gáidhealtachd (the Gaelic-speaking areas of Scotland) throughout the 16^th Century.

Smiley, burnt face

Why always us?

Thankfully, despite the title, this blog refers not to the arse-face that is Mario Balotelli and his apparent inability to recognise why he is such a knob!

 

I’ve often wondered why large corporations take the full brunt of people’s harsh words. Maybe it’s their secret capitalist agenda….? Or maybe it’s just that they’re popular and so widely accepted.

The companies to which I refer are those who we, the consumers, compare normality. For example; Coca Cola. Their brand is so widely known and loved that any other brands wishing to sell Cola-flavoured goodies are immediately put to the sword by the consumer;

“I don’t like this. It doesn’t taste like real Coke!” et cetera.

Now I shall avoid a boring rant asking why it must be Coca Cola who sell the only real variety of Cola to the planet, and move swiftly on to my next point….

McDonalds. Again avoiding the urge to ask whether, in a perfect world, there should be an apostrophe somewhere in the brand name itself, I’d love to know why they are the subject of jokes and mockery. You’ve all heard the headlines…. things along the lines of McDonald’s uses battery chickens or Burger King employ migrant workers before locals or eBay is the most unsafe place to buy a key ring!

Well my guess is it’s plainly because they’re popular and successful. These companies wouldn’t get half the stick they endure if they were mere one-off shops on a dying high street.

 

Today it has been claimed that English GCSE marks across England, Wales and Cornwall have been marked unfairly because of teachers. It is not because of a poorly-planned overhaul of the state of the education system with regards to English language schooling, but the fault of the teachers who have awarded too healthy a grade when marking coursework.

Without delving into the slippery realms of cynicism and complaining wholeheartedly that teachers are being used as scapegoats for an authoritative c**k-up, I find it incredibly hard to believe that EVERY single English teacher south of Hadrian’s Wall over-marked EVERY single piece of coursework required in the GCSE format courses.

So what can we make of all this? Why are teachers being blamed for this calamity and uncertainty?

Because we’re awesome, that’s why!

Smiley face (wiv correkt english spelin n punkchooashon n gramer)

Is it bad luck to open crisps the wrong way up? (Letta 2 me grand kidz)

I’ve been using Facebook since the times when the only persons permitted to its use were those with an university email address. I remember when it was used as a tool to discuss current affairs of the university amongst its soon-to-be immortalised alumni. I remember when it advertised student get-togethers and fellow students could remind each other (often in a largely un-sober and therefore amusing state) about forthcoming deadlines for essays etc.
Now the whole world is invited and it’s rather cool. Various friends who, without the use of this social networking phenomenon, would have been forgotten and neglected are now always there to admit they ‘like’ photos of you dressed as a Flowerpot Man…. or something like that.

But I’ll tell you what does enthuse a chuckle…. all these people with all the weird stati posted all day every day. They aren’t half humorous for readers. In fact, one often questions why the hell people post said things in the first place? For example:

I had eggs for breakfast….

I just waxed my toes….

I’m so drunk I can’t feel my face….

And don’t get me wrong, I’ve posted my fair share of pointless randomness too. Paranoia is then manifested and magnified when remembering the odd photo or ‘tasty’ status could also lose you your job because of it. It’s not unheard of!
Facebook is a weird and dangerous place, people!

Twitter isn’t much more technologically safe but I don’t mind because @UberFacts taught me that after just 100 years there will be a breathtaking (spoiler pun!) 750 million dead people with a profile on Facebook….
What an amazingly insane thing to fathom. By the year 2112, 250 times the current population of Wales will be in possession (is that a pun?) of a Facebook profile online.

But I suppose facts like this will always be mind-boggling until someone thinks about the positive effects of said pieces of information.

These will be our letters to our families when we leave life as a conscious being.
Now, instead of learning about the lives of their ancestors through over-grown grave stones and over-priced family heritage websites, our great-great-great-grandchildren can pop our name into a search and there we are.
To be fair, if you’re writing a status that isn’t funny or interesting, I’m largely going to ignore it or judge you on it…. lol! But what you ate on the 20th October 2012 at 10:30am for breakfast may well be strangely comforting to long-lost relatives who only remember meeting you once because you gave them a bag of sweets and a tennis ball you found in your garden.

So as much as I rant on about people’s pointless ‘abuse’ of Facebook and Twitter because they clog up my feeds, I truly do admire every single little thing you do.
Makes you wonder, though, about those who explain how sloshed they are having left their gorgeous / largely unplanned children with someone called Ruth who seems mildly more responsible than the last baby- sitter they employed.

Happy reading, kids….

I’m off to open a bag of crisps the wrong way up…. Thought you’d all want to know?!?!

Smiley face

It’s Only a Game, Dear!

Many people have asked myself and many others, how one can become so passionate about a sport that largely involves over-paid, ego-fuelled men to run around a field chasing an inflated ball. When put as such, it does sort of sound like something a child would do on their holidays to Rhyl beach in the 80s. Despite this, I have tried in a number of blogs to explain how feelings become intensified when our teams take to the field.

Thankfully, such periodical entry focuses not on the why I love the sport…. More like the parts that leave me with mouth agape on the ancient terraces and side-lines.

In my time as a football fan, I’ve been fortunate to bear witness to some fantastic things. Great covering tackles, decisive blocks, wondrous passes and outstanding saves. I’ve seen skills, determination and guts during my 15 or so years attending these feats of footballing greatness.

But it’s goals that people want to see. After all, to describe the objective of the beautiful game in one sentence would be something along the lines of ‘score more goals than your opponent.’ So here for your reading pleasure, I’ve decided to share with you my favourite goals.

Sublime

Only once have I been late for a match at Anfield. Despite this being a mediocre game between the reds and Middlesborough, the traffic around Scotland Road was abysmal. With five minutes before kick-off, I found myself running the paths of the Marie Curie Fields of Hope that separate Anfield from Goodison Park in a blind effort to reach the beginning of the match.

Arriving some 3 minutes into the game, we sat down to enjoy Mendieta score for the visitors to put us 1-0 down almost immediately. The game was a dull one and despite chance after chance, the reds couldn’t find that decisive spark in front of the opponents’ net.

Step up, Steven Gerrard. With around half an hour to go, a half-chance from around 35 yards out falls to the Liverpool captain who, incidentally, doesn’t need any more of a chance to have a pop at goal. The sheer power left the ‘Boro ‘keeper with no chance, despite his speculative effort at a save. Anfield erupted, the reds had their tails up…. But we still drew.

Amazingly, in another match between the two sides a few years later, I was present to see another out-of-the-box beauty from our captain marvel to level the score at 1-1 after the Egyptian, Mido, put the north-east-England side one goal to the good.

We drew that one, too!

Spectacular

Aside from John Arne Riise and a few others, I’ve never seen a man strike a ball quite like Dietmar Hamann. The German, who incidentally scored the last goal at the old Wembley stadium giving Germany a fantastic 1-0 win over the English, graced the fields of Anfield Road from many a successful year.

But it was not his contribution to the Champions’ League Final in Istanbul on that famous night in May that I remember the most about Didi…. It was a screamer against Pompey.

Didi had scored a decent goal the year before in the same fixture and I’d noted that he’d graced the front of the match-day programme that day. This game was no different as an image of him shooting to score that particular goal was present on the programme again.

Michael Owen had taken on a few midfielders after picking the ball up somewhere around the centre circle. Coming up against some tall defenders, he ran towards the corner flag in front of the travelling away supporters and pulled off a cross on the turn that was destined to land around 20 yards out. And it would have landed there, had it not been for Hamann!

Didi laced the ball so hard that Shaka Hislop could do nothing but twitch his right arm at the bullet – to no avail.

We won that one!

One-man shows

Most of my footballing heart-ache has been had at the Racecourse ground, Wrexham. It’s not easy following a club, who for the time I’ve followed them, have not seen the greatest of successes.

Granted, I saw us win 3-1 against Boston to keep us in the football league and I witnessed our brave lads pick up the LDV Vans trophy – only the second Welsh side to do so – in 2005. But even so, Wrexham have never been a team that has been expected to win every game and find themselves in cup finals galore. After all, it was only some 3 or 4 years ago that Wrexham found themselves out of the football league after a period of some 82 years.

But Wrexham have always warmed my heart. To see our boys battling for my home-town is nothing short of gold dust for me. And believe me, I’ve seen some cracking goals there too.

Mark McGregor against Gillingham, Andy Morrell putting us ahead in the FA Cup against Championship opposition in the shape of Brighton and Hove Albion…. But none have left me as speechless as little Jay Harris did a few weeks ago against Barrow.

Cutting in from the right-hand side and picking up a loose ball, Jay Harris let fly on a shot that was going nowhere else but the top corner of the goal. The 25-30 yard strike shot like a moving train and lifted until it tickled the underside of the away crossbar and all but destroyed the back of the net. Twitter went berserk with disbelieve and Wrexham fans once again had to pick up their jaws from the floor.

The annoying this is, had a player in more of the limelight than Jay scored such a goal, we’d still be talking about it today, tomorrow, and for eternity. That’s how good it was!

Ambitious

Ambition in football is what drives players to achieve more. Xabi Alonso was, and still is, my favourite player ever and he had heaps of the stuff. His work-rate and effort, coupled with the skill to pick out a pass from more than 60 yards, was breath-taking.

Forget Beckham’s vision catching Wimbledon’s Neil Sullivan off his line in a game that saw him rise to fame in one kick of the ball – Alonso went two better!

In an FA Cup tie against Luton, Xabi caught the opposition ‘keeper off his line as he stood some 10 yards into his own half. Not a problem for the Spaniard…. Liverpool were in the lead.

But this blog is about goals I’ve actually personally witnessed and Xabi didn’t let me down. In a league game against Newcastle, goalkeeper Steven Harper, found himself wandering around his box during a period of Newcastle pressure. Picking up the ball yet again in his own half of the field, Alonso lofted a ball over the waiting defenders towards the Kop goal. Realising his lack of decent position, Harper rushed to claim the ball, slipped, got back to his feet and just about got a hand to the ambitious effort. But it was not to be and ball teased its way into the net to increase Liverpool’s lead. I found it wonderful that the Kopites and Anfield faithful felt the need to shout ‘shoot’ each time Alonso gained possession of the ball…. Can’t fathom why!

Needed

A victory of at least two goals was required from Liverpool against Greek side, Olympiakos, to progress from the group stages of the 2004/05 Champions’ League competition. Trailing 1-0 at half time, step up the reds!

The score was 2-1 to Liverpool with 5 minutes to go. A cushioned header by Neil Mellor was met by a certain Steven Gerrard. With the ball coming towards his run, which incidentally aimed towards the corner flag, Gerrard angled his shot (somehow) to curl out of the ‘keeper’s reach and into the bottom corner of the Kop net.

I nearly received a stab to the eye from a Scouse fan holding a flag – but golly was it worth it! Perfection!

Bale

As a Welsh international football fan, I’ve had little to shout about lately. But let’s put it this way, I now refer to pêl-droed [bêl-droed] (Welsh for football) as Bale-droed!

Scotland vs Wales at Cardiff’s City Stadium last weekend. A stadium full of Scots…. A stadium with blue seats. It was pretty much an away game for us. And considering I travelled some 150 miles to watch it, it definitely felt like an away trip for me personally.

Somehow, the Scots found themselves level after 88 minutes after a game dominated largely by the boys in red. But we needed a win.

Then…. Gareth Bale! Ladies and gentlemen, this goal had the lot! He had already scored a penalty which he’d won himself too!

Taking on two Scottish defenders to find an inch of space around 25-30 yards from goal, Bale hit a shot with his left foot that looked destined to smack the Barry Horns above the goal-side seating area. Somehow it dipped just after Scotland’s ‘keeper was beaten and found its way into the top corner. I for one stood in disbelief while others went wild.

This goal…. This sublime, spectacular, ambitious, much needed one-man effort….

I have no words!

Smiley face for young Gareth!

Beware! This is a nocti one!

Personally I wouldn’t read this…. Ignorance is bliss, after all!

Which nation has suffered more directly because of the English? Sounds like a paltry dissertation question for a degree in being an awkward and arsey anarchist, doesn’t it?

However…. I Googled it. As one does! Coupled with both a link (so you can have a read of, in particular, gentleroger’s response yourselves) and a senseless whine (courtesy of yours truly) to follow.

http://uk.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20091221095336AAo0z7k

But you know me…. I look for what is NOT written and recorded as well as that which is included. Reading between the lines, if you will?
For me, the response to the question, however detailed and enlightening, epitomises the greedy English influence on people’s history – the writer himself also gives the impression of a blissful lack of awareness towards Cornish atrocities!

In his book, Cornwall’s Historical Wars: A Brief Introduction, former Grand Bard of the Gorseth Kernow [i], Rod Lyon too (aka Tewennow) discusses his discoveries on a history not mentioned in educational text books perched on classroom shelves. This is the missing Cornish story.

http://cornovia-press.wikidot.com/

And here also is my assessment on the contemporary use of the Cornish language after a four-day visit to the duchy! How to Sell a Nation! [ii]

But it isn’t just the Cornish and Welsh Britons who have received (and continue to receive) this treatment. At least they only lost their diminutive cultures and traditions. Other countries overseas have seen their national identity as well as their lives ripped away by British troopers as easily as stealing candy from a baby…. or to paraphrase the expression in its British English variant, like borrowing tea from India. Ok so I made that up…. Get over it!

The Malvinas (or Falkland Islands) have been disputed with regards to ‘ownership’ for many years culminating recently in a BBC-pressured series of programming devoted to ‘celebrating’ the deaths of human beings who never returned home. It may be damning to reflect further into this too. Here’s a point; Britain is the only conglomeration of nations in Europe to invite (or to be gate-crashed by) the armed forces into schools to administer propaganda-driven job opportunities to our little ones. They even make British Army dolls now. I wonder what their reception would be should the British government teach true British history? A real and factual history from which I shall attempt to shave the bristles of ignorance later.
Furthermore with regards to the BBC, I heard someone on [BBC] Radio Cymru refer to the media giants as the British Brainwashing Corporation due to recent events in London this year as well as the Jubilee. It made me chuckle but it didn’t half come up against some nasty opposition. I suppose it’s now frowned upon for not wanting to be British. Even fashion is going union-flag mad! Thanks to famous people paid millions to put a bunch of red, white and blue on themselves, we’re all going insane for British!

But I digress and therefore head back to my international point. The Irish haven’t always met eye-to-eye with their ‘buddies’ from across the sea to the east either. Doing my annoyance-filled rounds of the internet’s delightful search engines (and after listening to a chorus from a Wolfe Tones song – cum hoc ergo propter hoc et cetera….); I managed to surf by a petition site called Care2 [iii]. What follows is a quotation from a particular petition ‘Calling for a Historical Investigation of British Atrocities’:

“The British government, through their actions, or lack of actions have caused the deaths of more than a million civilians, during the “Irish Potato Famine”, and other atrocities as well. Similar actions were taken in other countries throughout the world. It is time for their actions to be made public for all to see!”

See, I told you it wasn’t just me with these ideas. There are more of us! I’ve always wanted to say something like that. It makes me feel accepted, ya’ know?

Coming closer to home, I have decided to share with you the true extent of the hard-gripping British hold on Wales. It’s time for me to come clean and put my money where my mouth is! What’s this business of (formerly) placing ‘Pleidiol wyf i’m Gwlad’ (Devoted am I to my Country) on an English pound coin? “Here you go, Wales. Spend our money to make us richer…. It’s got your funny words on it!”
Incidentally when said coins were in circulation and before Bernard of Chartres’ quotation (Standing on the Shoulders of Giants) graced the £2 coin, the only two languages found on British coinage were Latin and Welsh. Doesn’t that just make you feel awesome?! No…. Does it bollocks!

But it was also our English chums [proposed, in fact, by a man of Welsh birth] who said the following after a highly-flawed yet uncontested treachery instilled on Welsh education. This is one of the conclusions drawn from the Blue Books’ report on the Welsh language within education in 1847 with quotation take from The Story of Wales by Jon Gower:

The Welsh language, it was concluded, was the main cause of these profound failings [in the Welsh education system]. Jellinger Symons’s [along with three other English commissioners; R. R. W. Lingen, and H. R. Vaughan Johnson] devastating critique is oft-quoted and no less lacerating for that:

‘”The Welsh language is a vast drawback to Wales, and a manifold barrier to the moral progress and commercial prosperity of its people. It is not easy to over-estimate its evil effects. It is the language of the Cymri, and anterior to that of the ancient Britons. It dissevers the people from intercourse which would help advance their civilization, and bars the access of improving knowledge to their minds. As proof of this, there is no Welsh literature worthy of the name.” Nonconformity was labelled as the other root cause’

Personally, I believe the best way to understand how easily Welsh people are manipulated into believing in Blighty-full harmony is to look at arguably our best musical export – The Stereophonics. I love the way we’re silently told to keep our differences solely for the Millennium Stadium’s hallowed turf:

“We don’t wanna be your enemy, but when we’re on the field it’s red, white and green.” [iv]

Playing to the hearts and minds of the egg-chasing idiots beyond the Marches by talking about rugby. Classic! And in other ‘Phonics news, their latest song ‘Get Back Down the Mines, you sheep-shagging idiots!’ is promising to go straight to number one in the UK charts by Sunday.

My broad-spectrum boycott of British newspaper media originally stemmed from the fact that I used to openly despise reading. Nowadays, my love of novels and ancient Celtic ex-libris hardbacks means that I now have a fresh excuse to leave the drivel on the supermarket shelf. This time it stems from the fact that they’re simply full of sh*t!

Yet despite this, I’m always one to give things a chance…. Cough!

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/apr/23/british-empire-crimes-ignore-atrocities

Here’s another article [v] entitled Britain destroyed records of colonial crimes featured on the Guardian’s website written by Ian Cobain, Owen Bowcott and Richard Norton-Taylor:

 

‘Thousands of documents detailing some of the most shameful acts and crimes committed during the final years of the British empire were systematically destroyed to prevent them falling into the hands of post-independence governments, an official review has concluded.

Those papers that survived the purge were flown discreetly to Britain where they were hidden for 50 years in a secret Foreign Office archive, beyond the reach of historians and members of the public, and in breach of legal obligations for them to be transferred into the public domain.’

The article, however, does go on to conclude through Dr Ed Hampshire (diplomatic and colonial record specialist at the National Archive) that:

‘ …. the 1,200 files so far transferred from Hanslope Park represented “gold dust” for historians, with the occasional nugget, rather than a haul that calls for instant reinterpretation of history.’

And hence the subtitle of today’s blog - ignorance! See how it all fits in now? And so, from originally ignoring corporate and commercial media to understanding mathematical symbology, here’s today’s point.

HOLOCAUST DENIAL ≤ or ≡ BRITISH ATROCITY IGNORANCE

To those who deny the sick goings-on behind closed doors of some of the foulest and indescribable sh**e to happen in human history, is it not just as bad to be blissfully unaware (and therefore content) that British people overseas and on ‘home soil’ can be at the helm of concentration camps of their own? Well, some do say that Hitler was an admirer of how the British empire plundered, and later ruled, almost 25% of the known world – I wonder where Adolf gained some of his inspiration to turn a blind eye to events on the Polish borders during the 1930s and ‘40s?!
Is it right, for example, that history breezes over the way black and native Africans were literally stolen from their homes and families by British and Portuguese empire-builders to toil for other people? All British history teaches us about with regards to the slave trade of the 16^th-19^th centuries is that we’re now all happy that it’s over because these people had a really tough life in places hundreds of miles away from their native lands such as the Americas…. But now it’s all hunky-dory!

To conclude, I’m not asking you to instantaneously transform your outlook on the British royal family and become a die-hard nationalistic republican. I’m sure old Liz is a lovely lady! I merely wish to employ my hardened techniques as a self-confessed serial blogger to relieve the nation of ignorance. And surely that’s the right thing to do…. Right?

Righty-oh, I’m off to read about Wrexham’s next home game in the English league pyramid via the BBC Sport website.

Smiley face

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[i] http://kw.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gorsedh_Kernow

[ii] http://stecymru14.wordpress.com/2012/08/22/how-to-sell-a-nation/

[iii] http://www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/697/876/789/

[iv] The One (As long as we beat the English) by The Stereophonics, 1999

[v] http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2012/apr/18/britain-destroyed-records-colonial-crimes?newsfeed=true

Your eyes will go square!

This is the first page of results from a Google search. The reason I stumbled upon it was for use with lesson planning. The search I entered was ‘Sports Games.’ Then…. I cried.

Due my profession, I’d like to ask you why you think I wept upon seeing this in front of me on my laptop screen. I think it would be rather interesting to see what you guys make of it.

Ok, so we’re not in class now…. and frankly, if I keep pretending I am, I’m more than likely going to come across even more patronisingly than I usually do.

Do you notice how many involve computer gaming rather than real sports? Well of course you do now I’ve told you!

When I was a child, the hills were our PlayStations. Our X-Boxes (correct plural, Mr Gates?) were the fields. We’d make dens from broken branches and fallen leaves. If we didn’t turn up home one afternoon covered in mud and soaked to the bone from being out with our friends, our parents would get ever-so-slightly worried and ask if anything was wrong.

Today, kids are different to the way we were. They talk more. Don’t get me wrong it’s brilliant to know they communicate and enjoy sharing feelings and opinions about their world but not when all they talk about are mindless boy-bands destined to fail and computer games that cost £50…. That could feed a poverty-stricken village for a f*cking week!

Yet I can merely put my slant on the present outlook…. not change it. It’s nigh-on impossible to change the hearts and minds captured by gaming. Even I myself became a slave to various games. In truth, I guess I still do. Each and every summer holiday from teaching promises a new ‘Football Manager’ instalment…. Which are exactly the same every year except Torres now plays for Chelsea…. Arsehole! But I shall hold back my bitterness to put forth one last point.
I wonder if a conversation between parents years ago went as follows: “For crying out loud, they’re on that bloody Monopoly again!”…. Doubt it!

So ladies and gentlemen, today I place the blame for our unforgiving and failing youth. I blame Google….

To be fair, if it wasn’t for Google I’d never have written this blog! A largely poor reason but don’t we always blame the bigger boys? That’s what I did when we once started a fire in my back garden using non-virtual and flammable items…. outside…. in the fresh air….

Smiley face with non-square eyes!