It lives!

After 3 months without internet access at all, and the previous 8 months being a miserable crawl using a 3G dongle that made the days of 56K dialup seem almost fucking halcyon in comparison, we now have broadband here in the deepest wilds of the Mayenne.

Sure, it’s only 2MB, but it’s a very reliable and consistent 2MB and comes as part of an Orange ADSL package that gives us the interwebs, unlimited national and international VOIP phone calls and French TV for a reasonable price.

We finally moved into our house last Friday and this coming Friday marks the beginning of our second year here.

We can’t decide whether the past year has flown by or we’ve been here forever.

Regrets about leaving the UK?

Absolutely fucking none.

The hardest thing is leaving the people we love behind – family and friends – but we’ve been back to the UK twice, are going at least twice this year and have had visitors with more to come.

The continued existence of this blog was never in question and, rest assured, it will be regularly updated with the usual mixture of comment, music reviews and reports from France on what we’re up to.

I’d thought about creating separate blogs for these categories but decided against it as I’d rather put my energies into the writing rather than organise several blogs.

I’m back.

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‘English Nationalist’ outed

Regular readers of this blog may recall that about 18 months ago, a highly disturbed individual calling himself ‘English Nationalist’ left many abusive comments in response to some of my articles about the English Democrats.

Here are a couple of examples of English Nationalist’s ’wit’:

Steve No wonder, you are so angry, I guess it’s a long time since you got laid !!!!!
I guess you have to make do with the Hand Shandies
Who do you shopping with to get those clothes
David Blunkett ?
What a loser

and

You look like a Cunt and write like a Cunt

Email notifications from WordPress showed that the comments were sent from an EDP mail account and a specific IP address:

Author : English Nationalist (IP: 81.2.97.151 , mail.engdemmail.org)
E-mail : England@EngDem.org
URL    : http://www.EngDem.org
Whois  : http://ws.arin.net/cgi-bin/whois.pl?queryinput=81.2.97.151

Now, here’s some interesting information obtained from a domain lookup site:

Domain ID:D134828206-LROR
Domain Name:ENGDEMMAIL.ORG
Created On:11-Dec-2006 16:58:24 UTC
Last Updated On:11-Dec-2009 12:33:45 UTC
Expiration Date:11-Dec-2010 16:58:24 UTC
Sponsoring Registrar:BB Online UK Limited (R20-LROR)
Status:CLIENT TRANSFER PROHIBITED
Registrant ID:1165856300o89536
Registrant Name:Steven Uncles
Registrant Organization:D****** and*********** ***
Registrant Street1:***** *****
Registrant Street2:
Registrant Street3:
Registrant City:**********************
Registrant State/Province:D*******
Registrant Postal Code:D** ***
Registrant Country:GB
Registrant Phone:+44.7*********
Registrant Phone Ext.:
Registrant FAX:+44.7*********
Registrant FAX Ext.:
Registrant Email: steven.uncles@d******-*****.co.uk

(The asterisks are all mine as I wouldn’t want anyone’s personal details disclosed on this blog. I’m also not giving the URL for the above domain information for the same reasons.)

Anyway, there we have it.

Steven Uncles and ‘English Nationalist’, who both use the same mail server at Engdem.org – and which is registered to Uncles, are one and the same person.

This comes as absolutely no surprise to me as English Nationalist’s and Uncles’ writing styles were identical. I didn’t say so at the time, because I didn’t want the hassle for personal reasons.

Now, however, I now have no hesitation in exposing ‘English Nationalist’ and condemning Uncles as an inept, ignorant, arrogant, devious, sick fat fuck who hasn’t got the balls to post comments here under his real name.

(OK, I may be ‘SteveShark’ here, but anyone with half a working brain cell could discover my real name.)

Not only that, but he’s done the same thing many times elsewhere under a variety of aliases using the same domain mail server.

No wonder the EDP remains unelectable whilst it has such a total liability funding and publicising the party. 

An English Democrat gets his wish

Well, he must have his own private fucking genii because the moronic EDP motherfucker who seemed to want to see a bit more ‘get up and go’ in evidence on the streets of the UK certainly got his wish today.

School pupils as young as 14 decided to take the day off school and protest against the hike in student tuition fees and the involvement of the Lib Dems in all of this.

Fortunately, most of the protests passed off peacefully, although as I’ve just seen on the local London BBC regional news program tonight, it got a bit fraught in the capital – particularly around Whitehall. Indeed, as I write this, I’ve just seen a report from a ‘kettled’ area where a bus shelter has been set on fire. Earlier, steel barriers were thrown at police lines and an isolated police vehicle was cut off by protesters and vandalised.

Even worse, I’ve just seen Lenny Henry – surely one of the most overrated UK comedians of all time – on the One Show cracking a joke that the protests at least meant that students had stopped eating Doritos, put their trousers on, turned off Trisha and gone out to do something.

So what about the 14 year old school kids kettled in Whitehall while you’re in a nice cosy studio, Lenny? Pleased to see them go out and do something instead of that boring old schoolwork – like bunking off school and getting kettled, perhaps?

Cunt.

And speaking of cunts…

Who knows, perhaps the EDP shithead who wanted to see a bit more UK street action has a son or daughter kettled at this very moment in Whitehall!

It’s possible, as I understand that the party has a bit of a presence in Kent, and in its towns such as Dartford, so it must be easy enough to nip up to the capital’s streets where ‘guts were being displayed’ today.

Although it’s easy enough to mobilise large numbers of people – mobile phones, Twitter, Facebook, etc – when the various groups of school pupils got to the protest, many of them interviewed seemed upset that what they had intended to be a 100% non-violent event had been hijacked by certain elements who were intent on violence.

And there’s the danger.

When you’re 14, 15, 16, you’re not always aware that you might be being manipulated and your enthusiasms subverted by people whose aims are rather different to yours. That’s not a criticism, it’s just part of being young, and manipulation is manipulation, whether it’s by anarchists or record company executives. To many people, the young are fair game.

They certainly were today.

I’m not totally without sympathy with the broad thrust of the protesters today. After all, I benefited from a cheap degree with no tuition fees, but then I’ve also seen a blind dogmatic rush towards degrees for everybody at any cost by the last three Labour governments. This created an unsustainable demand on public money for cheap university education which we now simply cannot afford. And that’s another inevitable and inherent problem with being 14 or 15; a failure to appreciate that money will only stretch so far (after all, you don’t have to earn the fucking stuff), such as when you ask your parents for a new pair of £100 trainers. 

So, Mr Englsih (sic) Democrat, I don’t know whether your child’s shivering its arse off inside a police kettle in Whitehall at this very moment, but someone’s child certainly is.

Quite a few of them in fact.

Maybe you should be more careful what you wish for…

Mother Fucker in the pub

We’ve just arrived back at the rental place here and found our post box stuffed with ‘pub’. ‘Pub’ – short for ‘publicite’ – is all the same sort of advertising leaflet and catalog bullshit that we used to get in the UK, but stuffed into the local free newspaper.

We call it ‘stuff’.

Anyhow, this ‘stuff’ includes supermarket, DIY store and electricals shop special offers and nestling, like a small but delightful treasure, amongst the pages of one of the Super U offer brochures was this:

P1010458

I saw the DVD on a large display stand in our local Super U the other day and meant to get a photo of it but I forgot by the time we reached the check out so I was pleased to see it amongst all the ‘stuff’ today.

I’m guessing that after ‘cunt’, ‘mother fucker’ (usually one word in the UK and US) is about the most offensive term you can bestow on anyone, but here it means zilch.

Our mega-huge French dictionary gives ‘enfoire’ (m) and ‘enfoiree’ (f) as French equivalents of ‘motherfucker’, but these then translate back into English as ‘bastard’ and ‘bitch’ respectively. OK, not exactly terms you’d use in front of a priest or old lady here, but nowhere near as strong as ‘motherfucker’ in the UK.

The French have a very rich seam of swear words to mine, but they don’t seem to have the force that the limited English repertoire has. I’ve heard some quite respectable people use variants of the verbs ‘foutre’ and ‘se foutre’ which have a very vague similarity to the way the English use ‘fuck’, but it’s nowhere near as strong.

Incidentally, I’ve not heard a single person here say ‘merde’ yet.

What a long strange trip…

…it’s been.

After being over here in France for 8 months, and with an initial completion date of 31st August, we’ve finally signed and the house at St Erblon is all ours – lock, stock and fucking barrel.

I wouldn’t say it’s been an easy process, although, from our side of things as cash purchasers with no chain, it should have been. One – if not both – of the vendors has quite frankly been a cunt, but as the story is a long one and I’m a tad pissed, the full account is something I’ll have to save for another day…

…but it will be told,

It’s been – as they say – a fucking emotional rollercoaster…

We signed with the notaire at about 4pm today, went over to the house and changed the locks and then sorted out changing the billing for electricity and water with the help of our estate agent.

We then came home and sank a bottle of Veuve Clicquot with our French neighbours.

Now we’re in for the night after pizza and a bottle of cheap Sauvignon Blanc feeling that we’ve finally reached the start of what we really came over here for.

Various tradesmen are booked for the next couple of weeks as we get estimates for work to get the house at St Erblon the way we want it.

The real French experience starts here…

The French paper chase – update – and Tiny Tom Cruise

I am now the proud owner of a…wait for it…

Certificat d’Importation d’un vehicule terrestre a moteur en provenance  de la commaunite Europeenne par une personne non identifiee a la TVA

Armed with this document and a few others I can now go to the prefecture at Laval of the departement in which we live – Mayenne – and get the car re-registered.

After two trips to Chateau Gontier in three days I’ll leave the final stage for next week.

Godammit – it is almost the weekend…

OK…the One Show…I had the misfortune to catch a few minutes of this evening’s edition.

There was a segment about how some people have been conned out of thousands of pounds by romance scammers via internet dating agencies. Personally, I wouldn’t give money to anyone I hadn’t at least met face to face, but some people obviously have more money than sense.

Then the One Show cuts to a red carpet interview with Tom Cruise – the diminuitive Scientologist film star – and the male One Show host’s (his bastarding name escapes me) first question to the Hollywood dwarf?

What do you think of online dating?

Now, whilst I realise that the hosts of the One Show might not be investigative journalists with searching and incisive questions springing naturally to their lips, and that the One Show itself isn’t exactly known for probing inquiries into matters of pressing public concern, what a stupid fucking cunting question.

Thank fuck I don’t have to pay a TV licence anymore, because if I did I’d be contacting the BBC as to why they were wasting the licence fee revenue employing cunts like the One Show twat and paying him good money (and lots of it) to ask stupid fucking questions.

It’s just one small step from ‘What’s your favourite colour, Tommo?’ – in fact, that might even be a more relevant question under the circumstances, as it’s probably something upon which Cruise has an opinion, but his experience of online dating must be rather limited, to say the least. Or so I would imagine.

And whilst I’m in rant mode:

What the fucking fuck are the Hairy Fucking Bikers all about?

Why are they being paid good money to fart around the country acting like the arsing Chuckle Brothers with a motherfucking cook book? All I can see are two mouthy cunts who are about as funny as a sack of drowned puppies and two more ‘TV chefs’ who ought to thank their lucky stars that they’ve got their talentless paws on the seemingly limitless supply of licence fee dosh provided by the gullible British public and chucked about like confetti by the BBC.

What’s more, BBC execs are getting even more money than these motherfuckers are getting paid for putting them on the screen in the first place.

It’s high time the BBC gravy train was derailed – I favour strapping the entire fucking cast of ‘My Family’ to the points, but that’s probably just me…

Mariah, miasma and melisma

blog1-mariah-carey

One of the delights of being a musician is that you get to learn all sorts of interesting terms for various concepts and techniques.

Melisma is one such term and refers to singing a single syllable and protracting it over a series of changing musical notes.

(As opposed to ‘Miasma’ with which it can share certain qualities as I’ll demonstrate later…)

The word ‘me’, for example, could be sung over three notes as ‘me-e-e’.

One of the best-known examples is probably in the Christmas carol ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’ in which the ‘o’ sound in ‘Gloria’ is strung out over 4 bars and some 30 notes:

Capture3

It’s a legitimate technique when composing and performing and is used in all sorts of music including pop, jazz, blues and rock.

However, like all techniques it can be overused and one of the chief culprits is Mariah Carey.

You can hear her tortuous melisma at the end of almost every line she sings and it gets intrusive and downright annoying to say the least. Some would be fine – but an excess takes me towards red mist territory.

I also have to admit a dislike for Ms Carey’s egotistical attitude and behaviour. I mean, make no mistake, she’s hugely successful and popular (she’s outsold Madonna in the US) but, then again, so are Egg McMuffins and Gregg’s pasties but I wouldn’t give either to a fucking dog.

So, imagine my mood after I read this.

The author – one John Arlidge – seems to be such a fixture up Mariah’s back passage that I suspect that he’s now getting his post delivered there after such observational gems as:

  • She’s lying on her back in a darkened room in the basement of the TV Asahi studios in Tokyo, dressed in a black miniskirt, a leopard-print Dolce & Gabbana trench coat and 8in Gucci bitch stacks.
  • But under the skin of this twittering popsicle is a businesswoman who has sold more singles, albums and downloads in the US than any other female artist, even Madonna.
  • Carey pulls up in her stretch limousine and steps out into a small but perfectly formed crowd.
  • Okay, there may be wine on the table — this is still rock’n’roll — but Carey is focused.
  • “I don’t care if the rock-band person thinks, ‘Oh, I’m a sellout’. Well, guess what? They’re a sellout anyway for going to a record company. I’m sorry — you are.
  • She hoists herself up slowly from her chaise longue, asks whether there are any stairs on the way to the limo — walking in 8in heels ain’t easy — and tells a flunky to round up the gaudy Hello Kitty dolls and take them to the limo. “I have to have my little toys,” she gushes.

My favourite part of the whole sycophantic piece is this quote from Carey herself:

“I change ethnically according to where I am in the world. I can be a spokesperson for black, white and Latina. MC could stand for multicultural.”

Well, I know what MC could also stand for but I’d welcome any other suggestions…