Alternatively...
I prefer this one

http://www.myspace.com/cardiffcitysupporters
(Click on the "Do The Ayatollah" clips)

Bluebirds Flying High
What more can I say!!! Download it on itunes or buy the cd...

Violated

I recieved a comment 20 minutes ago from a Blogger called DUMURO. The nasty wanker is a virus spreading bastard. I have delting it now and tried to report it to Blogger. Lots of others have had this experience.

http://groups.google.gy/group/blogger-help-howdoi/browse_thread/thread/2bea80ab4dee8098/433340c9a9eb61b9?hl=en&lnk=gst&q=dumuro#433340c9a9eb61b9

Another site gives the definition of the word Dumuro

duro, dumuro, duruin: Word: duroActive Verb: dumuroPassive Verb: duruinEnglish Definition: (verb) to pierce or to penetrate sharply as with a pointed instrumentExamples: 1) Duruin mo ng lapis ang papel. (Pierce the paper with a pencil.) 2) Dumuro ka ng papel sa pamamagitan ng lapis. (You pierce the paper with a pencil.)Source: http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Tagalog/

I'm not sure what language it is - but he/she certainly is a prick.

And here are some more...

On a serious note...

These are some of my favourite photos from my trip to Ireland

Barry

As I mentioned in an earlier posting - the prevalence of the name Barry in the town of Bantry challenged assumptions I had long held about said name.

A little known writer has documented a theory similar to mine at the following webpage

http://www.freewebs.com/recedinghair-lines/Called%20Barry.htm

Here are a few examples to taken in a period spanning 5 whole minutes last wednesday.

Minke Whale
I went on a boat whale watching with my son. We were in the boat 5 hours. We saw this Minke a few time. But not much of it - you have to be quick.

West Cork

Cork
Hello from West Cork. I've been here since saturday and realy like it. I went on a boat yesterday with my son looking for dolphins. We didn't find any - but saw some porpoises, seals and a minke whale. Later in the day I realised that I had badly sunburned my face - this was unexpected as I had been covered in a coat, hat, sunglasses etc. The only bit of my body exposed was the bit of my face below my sunglasses and this was burnt. I think I had sunstroke because I started having shivers and a headache later.

Things which I find unbearably parochial in england - I find amusing in Ireland. I expect that's a patronising attitude - but at least I'm more fond than dismissive here. The main reason that I feel at home hear is the prevalence of my name. Whereas at home - my name is mainly used for dorky characters on TV (And is even being ridiculed on Radio 1's Barryoke) in Ireland - everyone seems to be called Barry. Its a normal name an in Bantry seems to be the name of most businesses. Pictorial evidence for this on my return.

Rabbit
We walked back from the pub up the same road we'd walked two weeks ago. We'd watched football that time too - I think it was England v France - shoddy display. This time Arsenal and Liverpooll really turned it on for us.
"Did I tell you what happenened with the rabbit?", I said - remembering what had happened in that road last time.
"No," said Spire, " I was wondering, I didn't get the outcome".
"I turned my phone off and went to bed". I said.
"So what happened?"
"She made me come back to look for it", I said. " It was still there, under the car. We couldn't get it to come out. A woman turned up and said it had been on the street since 7 o'clock. We went home and phoned the RSPCA".
"What did they say?" said Spire.
"They called us back later and asked us to monitor it....I don't think so - I told them - I'm going to bed."
"Like you were going to wander around looking for a rabbit at one in the morning." he said.
"Neither of us blogged it". He added.
"No - I must have been tired".
"I wondered if we both would", He said, "It would have been interesting to see if the stories were the same.".

The Final Whistle

London
Its 7.15am. I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Bloomsbury just round the corner from my hotel. Its snowing outside and my denim jacket is damp from my failed search for an observer. I'm sure I would have found one eventually - this is central London after all - but I got too wet and I found this 24 hour internet shop with a 24 hour Subway next door where I bought a take out coffee (Black with no milk). Its £1 for an hour and seems pretty full. What are all these people doing here at 7.15 on sunday morning? For that matter - what am I doing here. Well I woke up at 5 and couldn't get back to sleep. My room mate is snoring gently and I didn't want to wake him so I came in search of coffee and paper and savouring and extra bit of the London experience.

I feel a bit rough from last night - though on usual performances we were quite civilised. We didn't start drinking till 3.30, we had both lunch (fish and chips) and dinner (Chinese) and were in bed by 11.30. This was because:-
a. We wanted to be in a good state to enjoy the game of a lifetime today
b. Two of our party were fathers in their seventies and we didn't want to make them overdo it.

We even went for the briefest excursion to the British Museum before the pub. It went like this:-
"Lets have a look around the museum"
"Its free"
We walked through the foyer to the new bit where the terracota army are installed.
"£12"
"I'm not paying that"
10 more minutes of wandering arund the foyer.
"I could murder a pint"
"Me too"
"Lets go".
Looking round the snow is getting heavier. I should go back soon - but I have forgotten my room card and will have to wake my room mate up. I may have to put up with the Torygraph which they seem to be giving away at the hotel. I wonder what the crossword's like. No matter - I haven't got a pen.

Service
I went to a posh hotel for a meeting today. The Tortworth Court near Wooton-under-Edge. My manager has his ankle in plaster so four of us had to go there to meet him prior to our service being inspected tommorow. I did some inspecting of the service at Tortworth Court. The woman who served us was eastern european, pretty and very helpful. I ordered a black coffee - as is my want. I drink black coffee - that is - coffee without milk. She brought the black coffee along with the other orders (A cappuccino, a latte, a herbal tea and a diet coke). It had one of those small italian caremelised biscuits on the saucer. I can't eat them at the moment as I'm not eating wheat so I offered it around.
"Would you like milk with your black coffee?", she offered - kindly proferring a metal milk jug in my direction.
"No thankyou" I smiled - flashing a look at my colleague. She carried on dishing out the drinks to the others. Before she left she turned to me enquiring again,
"Would you like some milk with your black coffee?"
No thanks, " I said - turning my Oliver Hardy look up to a level nine and wondering what her issue was.