Monthly Archives: February 2006


Yes, it does look like it’s broken doesn’t it? That’s cos I am halfway through a re-tinkering project. When I next go home I’ll sort it out yeah? Keep it real in the meantime please….

Leave a comment

Back safe

Like Amundsen returning from the Antarctic, the cooling body of Scott buried in a snow drift, the bolo cru have returned from their epic northern voyage. I have a whole lot of stuff to write up from this, but suffice to say for the moment that my head hurts, my chest hurts, I am weak of mind and body and I congratulate thoroughly those who we visited for being good hosts and putting me in this state. Particular shout outs going out to Nick the Greek for comedy and a good line in strong liquor and women, Bobos for his hot curry and bacon sarnies and Steedo for keeping it casual. Lurcho, much respect for getting us home without crashing, killing a load of people and making the rest of our lives an empty abyss of terror and recrimination. Good work.

Leave a comment

Night night

Eagerly anticipating our impending trip to the land of Leedonia. It is now far too late and I must rest, for tomorrow Grantham awaits. Sleep sleep.

…. oh yes, I nearly forgot I have found a place to get them useful little pictures for websites. Apparently my useful little picture is processing before winging it’s way back to me while I sleep. Ride safe tiny picture. Ride safe! –

Leave a comment


Ok, so after a good night’s sleep, today I’m confronted with tube sardine syndrome. This is a painful condition for those who prefer to sit/nap on the way to work rather than spend an hour with their face in someone’s armpit/arse. So then I get to Liverpool Street and I’m buffeted on all sides by people racing for trains: fat city financiers, thin city financiers, dolled up chantelle esque admin girls and wandering German tourists. Big shouldered, blank faces and swinging laptop bags. Everyone’s in a big hurry and I’m thinking: “well all this rushing about is all well and good, but if you get there and you’re still a cunt, what’s the point anyway?”



Man, this morning I was so tired I had to stop in the park for a little sit-down on the bench. I was so tired I slept through to two stations after my stop. My dreams were full of images of throwing tex-mex dip at strangers and climbing coastal paths. Definitely looking for an early night tonight.


Bargain tits

Recently, on my epic commute to work, I have been occassionally aroused (semi-literally) from my listless, no-sleep caused sleep to gaze upon a surfeit of adverts aimed at women (or maybe their partners) to try to get them to part with their hard-earned cash for some new tits. There are lots of adverts for lots of companies, but they all basically feature some vamped up lady, leaning over slightly to expose her voluminous cleavage, the smile on her face telling you that you only know that you’ve made it when you’ve got a big pair. Any way, this is kind of by the by and personally I’m not in the market for it (or for my good lady friend I hasten to insist), but I just wanted to comment that I noticed today you can now get breast on higher purchase for just £70 a month. Later that’s less than my phone bill. I love the idea of it more than anything. Paying off your Next catalogue purchases, your sky tv and your breasts at the same time. Do you get a free pen and some air miles? Basically, the future is here, but I’m still holding out for a bionic eye. However, getting some big humps on my back in the meantime could be a possibility…….

Leave a comment

skanky tactics

I recently had to cancel two credit cards due to some very chavy action in darkest Dover.  Given that I’ve lived abroad for nearly three years, that both cards were paid up and hadn’t been used in two years this should have been a simple task.  No easy clicking on the web to get such a thing done though – I had to go through the call centre and walk the plank of the auto-cued questions.  “Why did I want to cancel?  Was I unhappy with Egg Card and Morgan Stanley?  Had they not been good to me in times of need?  Offered support, propped me up?  Did I know that I would no longer to profit from my anniversary date, five month interest free balance transfers ?  That the prize draw was now closed to me ?  That Stacey from billing no longer promised to blow today’s 500th caller ? (me)”  I was confident in saying ‘no thanks’ to all these automated pleas, cockily dispatching their grubby-handed questions from my white collar….but the white became cream, the cream became grey, didn’t I need that balance transfer window, even in an irrelevant currency ?  And Stacey’s luscious, bought and paid for embrace ? Maybe….and that’s what I hate about these bastards – who does the research to forumulate the questions that ensare the endebted when they are trying to escape ?  They’ve made a science out of being swine.

Death to the capitalist pigs!  Long live whatever these fuckers don’t stand for.

Leave a comment

Thieving toe-rag shyster

Yes, those are three of the thousands of words that could be used to describe the little sister-fucking shit licker that robbed my childhood home last week. For over a quarter of a century my mother has defied the laws of common sense and the best advice of Crimewatch UK by leaving the front door key hidden in very bait little cubby hole in the porch. Convenient as this placement of the key was for avoiding those fearful moments when you return home shitfaced, paranoid about having lost your keys, I think it’s now fair to say it wasn’t worth it.

The wee fucker’s light fingered nature first became apparent to us last week when mother dearest realised she no longer had possession of either front key – at least not the ones kept cunningly in the porch. Her Spidey senses began to tingle still further the next day when she received a strange phone call from Morgan Stanley. Their system had crashed the previous night and they needed MR D Bennie’s pin code to reactivate his credit card. Thankfully, it wasn’t “Oh, how kind of you to call” but more like “I suspect you’re crack-thirst over the phone, you wee slag”, or something more motherly in tone. It turns out that the five-finger discount-toting pig excrement felcher had stolen all the post the Muv had been keeping safely for me in the (fortress like) porch. Included in amongst the alumni bullshit and begging letters from Nigerian crack-whores with million dollar, unreachable inheritances was a new credit card. Why the arses bother sending me replacement cards when I have only used the thing once 3 years for a balance transfer is beyond me. In any case, the Miss Marple like qualities of my mother persuaded her to call to the police, who were very interested in what she had to say and arrived about 15 minutes later to fingerprint and ask questions….

Well, the thing is Sheila and Mick, to name the razor-witted protagonists, were due to go on holiday the very next day. What to do? They bolted the external door, top and bottom, and left the ground floor lodger, Kiwi John in charge. Now, John can talk in the style of a garrulous

Shortland Street doctor and smoke a few fags, but he’s no substitute for a few savage dogs on the home security front. Nevertheless, the tea-leafing little mummy chafer took no chances and avoided any potential ear bending by coming back during the day; John works 5am to 13pm shifts. The chav bashed his way though the stained glass and wood at 11.30am with a broom handle. And all this in broad daylight on a main road. What a crack hungry granny-toucher. He got the things he’d obviously priced up during his reconnaissance mission – when he also got the digital camera plus extra sim cards apparently. No doubt a fair few family memories have gone up this fiend’s nose, in his weakened viens, his filthy crack pipe or more likely up his ass in suppositories shaped like children’s digits. The brazen bum-bungling badger baiting batty bopper.

Well, this has been more sarcastic and more vicious than I’d intended, but it seems to have helped. The fear heads are right though – NO ONE IS SAFE. STAY INSIDE, THE STREETS ARE ALREADY LOST. Well, maybe not, but I can see how these feeling take hold. I think Kiwi John is safely in the land of Fear and Festering now…Soon the Mirror will become the Mail and there will be no way back.

Leave a comment

Bolo ushers in Bob

Greetings to Bob, who joins Bolo’s news breaking ranks today. The bolo roadshow looks forward to visiting his regional office next weekend,

1 Comment

Bright lights big city

Recently, the powers that be have embarked on an ambitious streetlight replacement project in the area where I live. The new street lights are giant totem like black structures, a bit taller than the old ones and emit light like they’ve scooped a bit of the sun out and put it into them. It’s cataract burning stuff and I do not recommend that anyone stare intently in their direction.

Actually, they’re not too bad, and I figure they’ve put them in to combat the current buzzword social force defined as ‘fear of crime’ (FOC is not necessarily related to actual crime as you can be living in an area with no crime, having never had a crime committed on you and still be crapping yourself – apparently). Anyway, the right people say that fear of crime is partly caused by night and so they have waged war on it. No more darkness equals for kids no more fear of monsters and for adults no more fear of crime (and perhaps there’s a correlation there somewhere….)

So to cut the story as short as it should have been to start with, I now live in a town that has no night, where the people no longer fear muggers, rapists and crazies and that’s a good thing, perhaps. The bad thing is that with all this light, the stars don’t exist any more. Call me sentimental, but I kind of miss them.

Leave a comment

The long and winding road

downs – due to a foolish error on my part and some bad design on my bank’s online service/ bad service on their phones, I have incurred a fine of £36 which the bank has refused to refund. In response, I have made a complaint on 3 grounds:

  1. Their phone line is rubbish and that’s why i used their online test of intellect (which admittedly, i promptly failed)
  2. they need to update their internet user interface to prevent innocent errors of this kind
  3. if they provided proper customer service, they would phone when this sort of thing happened and you could quickly sort out the problem and prevent the need for cheques to bounce and fines to be incurred

I also told them that I will be changing bank accounts – not because I am surprised by their treatment – but practicing the principle of ‘fairness’ “as you have taken £36 pounds off me, I consider it my absolute duty to take £36 off you”. I have also hatched a plan to make a few further phone calls and to make a further written complaint so that I can run up their eventual costs for dealing with this matter to at least £500. This may be a waste of my time and potentially sad, but I feel it’s important to prove to these swine that I will not be fkd with….

ups – just after the phone call with the bank, my associate rang me. His associate runs a pretty successful website company and likes our stuff and wants to work with us. He has agreed tentatively that he will pass on work that he needs support with. Our first two small projects for him should start tomorrow and obviously I’ve got my fingers well and truly crossed for this.

Is this karma? I don’t know.

Leave a comment

Bolo welcomes Bennie

Yes Bennie come join the bolo partnership – go forth, diversify, build consensus and knowledge manage.

1 Comment

Reasons why the ipod nano is likely to break

1) the ipod nano is destined to break because it’s so small it wants to explode to get bigger. It’s kind of like one of those unhappy atoms wanting to grab onto another atom to build a molecule from chemistry kind of thing.

2) the ipod nano is destined to break because under its skin it is chocolate, like a lovely chocolate coin.

Either way, it’s doomed to break – just too small.

Leave a comment