They Call Him Rutman

Happy New Year

2010-01-04T22:10:00.003Z

So, it's a new year. A new decade. And a new era for Bolton Wanderers. I suppose I should explain my 4 month absence. I can't be arsed to, but I suppose I should. I didn't exactly forget about it. I just couldn't be arsed, to be Frank. In fact, I was re-reading my posts the other day. I always say if it makes just one person laugh, it matters. I usually omit the fact that it includes me. Anyway, I've now gone on to uni(versity) and studying Law at Leeds Met, or Leeds *cough* as I pronounce it. In fact, I've just moved back to Leeds after the Christmas holidays, having done ALL my work, bar a few things. *cough*.

There's a few things different from Leeds and Bolton. For one, the weather's better. When it rains in Bolton, it drizzles in Leeds. When it drizzles in Bolton, it probably drizzles a little bit of the time, rest of the time is sunny. It's also warmer. Boo. Call me old fashioned (or weird, your choice), but I prefer it a bit nippy and a bit drizzly. Which makes Bolton almost perfect. Another thing different is it's in Yorkshire. Them who came second in 1485. My history around the time of Henry VII has drastically improved since moving, ha. The final difference,
the fact it's nice to match the scowls with a reason. In Bolton, I have no idea why folk scowl at me. Here, it's because I'm a (I'll paraphrase) "Lancashire bastard". No, good Sir, I'll have you know I'm a Greater Manchester bastard. PS Bosworth > you. The mystery of why they seem to dislike me may just be solved.

Also, uni(versity) is far different (see: better) to sixth form. Rather than in sixth form where I hated most, if not all, of my lessons, my LLB (that's Law degree to you, not that I have a superiority syndrome) is actually bareable. The only problem that's arised is that my sleep patterns worse than ever now. Although I suspect that's far more self inflicted than before. But I would like to be up at about 8/9 tomorrow to get cracking on with assignment work.

It's all change at the Reebok, innit? The fans have got their wish and the evil, maniacal, shit-but-not-actually-as-bad-as-folk-say-if-you-think-about-it Gary Megson has been given the boot. I remember the Hull game like it was last week (what? it was? Shurrup, I'm on a roll). In the 90 minutes, there was 2 (that's TWO) Bolton songs. They were the Campo chant (but for Klasnic) and the Super John McGinlay chant (but for Super Kevin Davies). There were 4 (that's FOUR) Anti-Megson songs in the last 20 minutes alone. They were Time To Go, We Only Hate Gary Megson, You Don't Know What You're Doing, and of course, that hit single, Megson Out. Each louder than the last. In fact, I've not heard chants that loud since... well, I don't think ever. Even when Okocha scored THAT goal against West Ham. Even when Bobic scored THAT hattrick against Ipswich. Even when Anelka scored THAT winner against United. Which speaks volumes for our fans (see what I did there? DID YOU SEE?). Anywho, it seems Coyle's the man who's gonna replace "Mugson" (oh hahahahahaha please stop your wit is too much, what next, "Smegson"? hooo hahaha), bar a dramatic change of heart. I'm a bit cautious myself, what with the lack of experience. Although it seems to please the fans. Not sure how good that is, seeing as they want Alan Curbishley, who has the same media persona, the same negative tactics, the same attributes as Megson. Except he's Cockney and not ginger. But hey, most of them attributes are instilled in the great-oh-wait-he's-a-fat-knobber-but-wait-he's-almighty-again Sam Allardyce. So that pretty much rules out every reason Bolton fans have had against Megson. Except one: he's ginger. And I don't put that pettiness past any Bolton fan.

That was rather longer and rantier (I know it's not a word) than I'd anticipated. But ah, well. I blame Megson.

Stay classy interwebz.

They Call Him Rutman... bringing you New Years since 2010.

Oops

2009-09-05T23:11:00.003+01:00

So, I forgot to put up a post after results. Was it because they were so shit I was ashamed to? Was it because I forgot? Was it because I couldn't be arsed? Nobody really knows. I have, however come to the conclusion that revision is bad. Yes, that's right, revision has negative effects on me. Year 2 SATs, I didn't even know I had. I got top grades in them. Year 6 SATs, I knew about, but didn't revise. I got 5, 5, 5.5. Year 9 SATs, which I revised a little for, and I got 5.5, 6/5, 8. Then GCSEs, I revised a little more. I got 1 A, 6 Bs, 1 C and 2 Ds. AS Levels I revised a little more still, and I got CCDE (later bumped up to BCCE). A2 Levels, I revised shitloads. I got CDE, which brought me to an almightily unimpressive A Level result of CDD.

CDDe is 220 points. My first choice wanted 300, insurance wanted 260. Amazingly, my insurance (Leeds Met) accepted me 2 days before results day. Arguably more amazingly still, my firm (UWE) were pondering accepting me (but I phoned them and hurried them into offering me a course change. I declined).

So, I'm off to Leeds. I purposely leave out the "Met" in order for it to look like I'm going to a "good" university. In fact, this is my last Saturday night in Horwich (and the fact I'm doing this, is very, very sad indeed) before I move out. I looked around the flat I'll be in. It's quite good, size wise, my room is about the same size as my room at home. Lounge/kitchen area's a bit small, but I expected so. It's also blue. Very blue.

Anywho, that's that. Oh, and for the record, I started on neither novel I was planning on writing. And avoid IKEAs. They're horrible places to shop. *shudder*

They Call Him Rutman... I've lost inspiration for these last bits, tbh... since 2009.

A Favour...

2009-08-17T22:10:00.002+01:00

So, this is a short blog post. Very short. Expect a large one after results day.

I like to think I provide at least a little bit of entertainment to you in this blog (if not, then meh). BUT I'd be incredibly grateful if you could grant me a favour? After all, I have helped a few of you out before (emotional blackmail ftw).

I recently entered a goal.com talent competition, where I can win a 1 month internship. Anyway, I need your votes for any chance at this opportunity. Just go here and vote for "Mike Nolan (68): It’s Lonely at the Middle"

Thanks to all who vote. :)

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you shameless self promotions since 2009.

I M Legal

2009-08-06T23:39:00.004+01:00

So, after 18 years of waiting, I turned 18 on Tuesday. Thank you to the 10 people who bothered to wish me happy birthday. The rest can sod off, tbh. As for the day? Well, it didn't exactly go off to a roaring start. My sleep was interrupted by my phone vibrating at 2.15am, alerting me to the message I received at 12.30am (ironically, it was the first 'happy birthday' of the day. I failed to get back to sleep. So much for this melatonin supplement I'm taking. I've woke up 3 times since my appointment (a week before Tuesday) before 6am. Most of the time around 9am (but I've slept before 1am, so I ain't complaining). Anyway, I got beer and money, mainly, whoever's counting. I'm also having trouble getting any fucker to celebrate it. So I'm not exactly delighted with my acquaintances.

I've ordered something off the internet, costing about £7.50. However, it seems I can withdraw £20 less than what is in my account (usually it takes off the amount that you are in the midst of being charged). Which is about £12.50 less than it should. I'm hoping that money should reappear. Although I'll find out where it's gone if it hasn't. I signed up to an extra protection password thingy at my bank moments before as well... so I'm confused.

Speaking of my bank, they tried to take the liberty of automatically upgrading my account to a student account. Which would be alright if I didn't want a Natwest account (cos of the student rail card worth £120... 33% off tickets in off peak times). So it'll be a pain closing/downgrading so I can open a new one with Natwest. Bastards.

I'm struggling to see how I'll get through uni. I might just go to one local and live at home (although I want to move away). I've no job, and from the looks of things, I'll not be getting any grants. They want my mum's details (although my dad brings in all the household income). And she can't remember her login details. Don't ask me why she hasn't phoned up and asked for them. Seems I'll be shedding a few more stone these next few years. Although I spose it IS my fault for not job hunting... although I don't think I can face rejection after rejection cos no fucker's hiring. And my reference from Pizza Hut isn't going to be sparkling, even though I was fully trained (they disagree) and I trained myself on everything by myself.

Anywho, that's about it since last time. I've done nowt on my book, although I've thought of a more interesting concept for a different book that I may do instead.

They Call Him Rutman - why do I bother thinking of things I'm bringing you?... since 2009.

?sdrawkcab I mA

2009-07-22T19:13:00.002+01:00

So, it's week whatever after finishing sixth form. I am well and truly bored. So what better time for some inane ramblings. On a side note, is it wrong that I can read that title without much bother? Yes, I wrote it, but still. Sentences in a similar format. For those of you unable to crack the code, leave. Leave now and never darken anyones doorstep ever again. Ahem.

Anyway, it seems that soon I may be able to finally crack this insomnia thing. Doctors appointment on Tuesday. The one I missed in June (due to exams is my excuse) and the other time cos I was away in Spain. I'd have gone, but the taxi fare would have been insanely high. Twas going well, too, until we went to Spain. Dunno whether it was the fact that I went to sleep at 8/9am has thrown my sleep out of balance or what, but I've noticed an odd trend. Before my exams, I wasn't sleeping altogether that well. I got to sleep at decent times, I just kept waking up during sleep. After exams, I've gone back to my normal routine. However, the examination period provided me with the best sleep I've had for years. So no, Mr Doctor, it's not stress. I sleep BETTER when I'm stressed and under pressure (I realise doctor's aren't 'Mr's, but otherwise they'd be Dr Doctor, and that'll never do).

But yes, I've slipped back into my old routine, which means, once again, I'm immersed in the darkness of exhaustion (excuse the style there, I've been reading Jeff Lindsay books recently, and seem to have adopted his style). Need to watch Fight Club soonish, it usually makes me sleep better. Or worse. It usually has an effect, though.

My book's going along at a grand pace. I've done nothing since I scribbled down a few things on the main character. Maybe I should just hop to it, and actually start writing the books, and create the characters as I go along. Like I've said, they're supposed to be loosely based on people I know. Not so loose that they can't tell it's them, but loose enough for them to not be able to sue me for defamation of character or whatever they can sue me for.

Finally, just before we went on holiday, we had a power cut. Which usually means it's time to play cards. Me and my brother invented a new card game: Slaps. The slaps make it what it is. Otherwise, it's an abysmally shite game. I dunno if it's cos we were SO bored that made it great fun, but I think we spent 2 hours playing, half an hour of which was when the power actually came back on. Big fun. I'll post up the hows and whens of the game now, so you can play at home (I sound like a quiz show host, tbh). If you don't understand the rules, I don't care. Ha.

SLAPS
2 players
Deal each player 4 cards. Player to the left of dealer plays any card. Next player plays a card of a similar or higher value. Players continue to take it in turns in this sequence, until one player cannot exceed or match the value of the card down. If player cannot match or exceed, the player who put down the top card slaps the other player, and players pick up 4 cards in turn, one at a time. If the player can match, and the other player cannot exceed, all players pick up 4 cards in turn, one at a time. Game ends when one player has put down all cards in their possession, and slaps all other players.

It might work with more than 2 players, but I've not tried. Might be best combined with a drinking game.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you the great card games since 2009.

Hola

2009-07-18T16:24:00.003+01:00

So, I've returned from Spain, a delightful shade of... red. I'll start off on a positive note before delving into the true incompetence of Jet2, among other things. Firstly, I see England drew to Australia. True to form, the Aussies complain. Sore losers, sore winners, and apparently sore drawers (which actually sounds like a colloquial term for a certain type of disease), which I never imagined possible. Another positive is Bolton signed another player. The bad news is it's Paul Robinson. Not the goalkeeper, the left back. Although I'd say he adds about the same to our squad - nowt. Jlloyd for left back/prime minister.

If you were to google "Jet2 bastards" I'd be the top result (I was fourth, but the last blog post put me top.), I think this will consolidate my place. First of all, on the way there. We got to the airport on time, got the car parked, everything fine. Then there was no queue for baggage drop. Good times. The staff then offered us a letter, explaining that we would be delayed for 3 hours, due to the plane having a technical fault. The grumbling starts. Then, 2 hours later, this bloke (incomprehensible) called everyone on our flight to the gate... only to tell us it's so smokers can go out and take one larger stride to their death. We walk back to our seats, grumbling. Then, we were finally called to the gate (all this time ringing Hertz in Malaga Airport to make sure we could still get our car rental). We spent 30 minutes stood at the gate before boarding. We managed to all be on the plane 3 hours after the scheduled flight (ironically, that's longer than the actual flight). Then we sat there for an hour whilst the staff counted the amount of people wrong. Several times. Total delay time - 4 hours 15 minutes. On the way back, we were greeted with news that, shock horror, we were delayed 1 hour 45. We waited about half an hour because they missed the takeoff slot (again), so that's 2 hours 15. Total delay time - 6 hours 30 minutes. The flight to Gambia was 6 hours. We spent about 5 hours 45 minutes in the air on each journey.

So, our holiday started rather magnificently. We landed at about 1:30 Spanish time. We got our rental car no problems (our bags were off the plane pretty sharpish, for a change) and off we set to the villa we rented. Which was an hour and a half's drive, maximum. We couldn't find it. We drived around in the car until daylight (7am) until we finally found it. I'm no stranger to all nighters, but all nighters in a car are far worse. When we got in, there were ants everywhere. Anyway, we managed to sort it all out proper later on, after we all had a few hours kip.

Now, the only things that hadn't gone wrong so far were the car and the parking at Manchester. I've neglected to mention that when we were going down the hill to the villa that the car started smoking. We thought it might just be dust (as it was a dirt track), so we carried on as normal. On Friday, we decided to make the 2 hour drive to Gibraltar. That was the plan, anyway. We ended up breaking down on some Spanish motorway, the clutch having been knackered. We waited ages, trying to explain where we were to the breakdown company (Surely there's not that many places that are on the AP-7 heading westbound, 1km from exit 23? They certainly thought so). Anyway, eventually this motorway breakdown bloke came out to check if we were alright. Didn't speak a word of English, ironically we communicated better with him than anyone else we encountered. Anyway, we got a free taxi to Malaga airport and got a new car, and the holiday continued as normal. Not much else of note happened, except I've managed to strain my right shoulder on the last day, skimming stones, kayaking and swimming at a lake we stopped at (cos our flight was supposed to be at 8.20pm, and we had to leave at 10am).

So that was the holiday. A nice surprise is that I'm not actually burnt, and I appear to have caught at least SOME sun. For a change. I've also discovered that there's not only San Miguel worth drinking. Cruzcampo and Aurum are both also particularly nice beers.

The ice cream truck driver that disrupted my revision last year returned whilst I revised this year. Oddly enough, I've not heard a peep from him since my last exam, even when it was boiling (although I feel cold now). Maybe it's all in my head, but I'm a bit miffed. Especially cos I recognise his new tune but cannot name it. I'm starting to miss Yankee bastard Doodle.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you sunshine since 2009.

Traducir Esto, y Tienes Mucho Tiempo

2009-07-05T13:58:00.004+01:00

So, I'm off to Spain for 10 days tomorrow. Any normal family will pack a few days before. We pack the day before. Go us. Anywho, there's still plenty of things (or in fool speak "many a thing") left to do. Like get Euros. It's gone up, hasn't it? Although knowing my luck, it'll drop to something like 1.06 for £1. Speaking of losing money, it appears I have been fooled into buying a 20p for £1.75. I re-read the eBay listing, and it said it was a 2006 coin. Damn my inability to read things thoroughly. Nevertheless, I'll try and catch someone else in the same trap. Can't have negative feedback if it's precisely what I advertise, even if it was somewhat pragmatic.

I have a slight beef (for a change) with parents. Saw a thing before where they said their child was beautiful, where in actuality, they're a complete uggo. Similarly, I've just had my hair cut. My dad says something like "handsome chap", as he always does. I won't lie to you. I'm no Brad Pitt. I'm more of a Harvey Pitt (yes, I googled Pitt and looked for a mug). In fact, I have actually made children cry before. In Gambia, I was walking to where everyone else was, and this kid ran, stopped in front of me, looked at me and started crying. He scriked (cried to you non-North Westerners) even more when I backhanded him.

I have a StatCounter thing on this blog. It tells me how many people have read my blog since I put it in. It also tells me things like IP address, location and what link they clicked. Most of them from Facebook. However, one caught my eye. It was from a google search. The search string? "Jet2 bastards" (check it, 4th result... oh yeah) I'm confused as to what would possess someone to search for Jet2 bastards, but hey, I'm not complaining.

I can't be arsed doing it now, but I have an update on our friend, the pesky, revising interrupting ice cream man. But this is more of a reminder for me for when I'm back, tanned (see: bright red sunburn) from Espana.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you google search results since 2009.

Like A Millionaire That Has No Money

2009-07-02T13:27:00.003+01:00

So, I'm off to Spain on Monday. Woo! (I've never claimed to be good at actual nor fake excitement). But anyway, it seems before I go, I've made quite the bit of business. Either that, or I'm incredibly stupid. You see, I've bought a 20p coin off eBay for £1.75. Doesn't sound too bright at first glance. BUT. It's a special 20p coin. It's undated, one of 600,000. Now, I can either keep it, wait for the value to rise; send it to the Royal Mint and get £50; OR sell it on eBay. I've seen them go for in excess of £400. Not sounding so stupid now. Question is, who would sell it for as little as £1.75? Slightly worried that it's not real. Then again, it's only £1.55 gamble. I've spent more on online scratch cards on the National Lottery website. I'm waiting for the inevitable kick in the scrotum.

I'm pleased to say I've made some progress on my book. I have the main character sorted. And that's it. I've been busy, haven't I? And by having the character sorted, I mean I scribbled down a few things about him. Ah well. I'll manage to make the full character list soon. I'm incredibly tired, though. Not been sleeping until 4/5am. Funnily enough, I do more book work after 2am than any other time (alright, before 7am, smart arse)

I read the other day that this bloke tried robbing an elderly couple. The problem? The 72 year old bloke was a former boxer. Swift one-two, bust his lip and gave him a black eye. He got put in prison, and the old man is hailed a hero. I think we all know the moral of the story. If you're going to rob an old man, make sure he wasn't a boxer. Oh, er, I mean, don't rob old people. Or they knock you flat on yo' ass.

I'm eagerly anticipating Dexter tomorrow. Annoyingly I miss the finale cos I'm away. Plan is to run straight to the telly as soon as we get back and watch it. Sad? You obviously haven't seen Dexter.

Anyway, that is all for now.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you hidden morals of life events since 2009.

Booked It, Packed It, Pissed Off

2009-06-26T23:18:00.004+01:00

So, the other day, we were booking our holiday (which we're going on a week on Monday... short notice ftw). I don't know if any of you have tried booking a non-package holiday, but it was pretty much me doing all of it (except paying, ho-ho-ho). Anyway, booking the accomodation was okay. Clean and simple. Then for the flights, we had to choose our seats, costing an extra £60 (Jet2 are bastards). Then the real stress came for car hire. 5 times, I'd got a quote for a car that was big enough for us at a cheap rate. When I went back on the website to find it, it magically disappeared/went up in price. Cue angry outburst. However, I had a backup, and found a discount code for a car hire place. 10% off. Pretty decent. Last minute check on my laptop, before my mum and dad booked it on their computer, still 10% off. They put that exact code in, and, shock horror, the discount was only 5%. It's still a discount, but nevertheless, I feel the good Lord was toying with me again. Bah.

Today, I was shocked to find somebody had called me cynical and grumpy. I've been called a few nasty things before... a cunt... a bastard... a miserable git... Shane. (what do you mean I robbed that off Scrubs?) However, grumpy and cynical? Wherever did they get that idea? Which reminds me, I've also been called a sarcastic prick, many, MANY times. Now, I let most of these slide because they have some element of truth to them. Except maybe cunt, bastard and Shane.

Michael Jackson died the other day. Public opinion is split. There's the "Hooray, the paedo's dead" crowd, and the "omg if Michael's dead, I'm going to die" crowd. There's a few people in the grey areas (like me, as per) but that's pretty much the two camps. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not nice when a person's idol dies (luckily for me, Kevin Davies is omnipotent). On the other hand, is there REALLY any need for every radio station to play non-stop Jacko hits? No. If Bradley from S Club 7 was mowed down by a bus in two weeks time, will Radio 1 be constantly playing 'Don't Stop Movin'? No. And I've surprised myself in comparing Michael Jackson to S Club 7, but there you go. However, I have read a few people's opinions on the web (and I'm sad to say it IS mostly the Americans) and they are well OTT. Fair enough, whether or not he fiddled with kiddies or not, still a human being (53% recyclable, like) and as such still deserves an R.I.P. However, it's not above me, or many others, to make jokes. Just when somebody does, don't fecking whinge about it. Life goes on. And for those who are suicidal about it, don't worry. Michael Jackson IS still alive.

(He plays for Shrewsbury)

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you my oh-so valuable opinion on events that have shook the world. Or not. Depends on what camp you're in... since 2009.

I Before E, Except When It's Me.

2009-06-19T14:18:00.002+01:00

So, in the words of William Wallace... FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM. Up until the last exam, I was feeling confident about the exams. But feeling as how badly I did that exam, makes me feel like the others weren't altogether that brilliant either. Ah well. What's done is done. Oh, I said I was stopping. I meant for exams.

I think I'm going soft. Usually my top 5 songs have some kind of violence to the title. But at the moment, they are Crazy in Love (Eminem), Beautiful (Eminem) and My Darling (Eminem). Ignoring the fact they're all Eminem, so not really gonna be soft songs, it's still odd. I feel that I must listen to the sounds of a man being mauled to death by a tiger. Or a lion. I'm not fussed.

I was set to start writing my book yesterday. Until I was reminded that I need at least a basic storyline (even if I do play by ear). And a character list. Which I don't have. I would have started today, but as I've said before, Elche don't get into Europe themselves. Speaking of Elche, I'm going on holiday in two weeks. To where? I have no idea (well, southern Spain, just not booked yet). Last minute Charlies? You bet.

It's hard work being a Bolton fan. There's no such thing as a grey area. You're a clueless tosser (or boo boy, as it were) or you're a rose tinter. I'm the latter, because I don't see 13th as complete and utter failure. We're also apparently bidding-on-but-not-bidding-on-although-we-have-our-scouts-watching Miguel Veloso, who is rated at £10.2m until Arsenal and City are interested-but-not-actually-interested. Then the price is £20m. Good on Megson for acting like he's not bothered and will just to go for other targets. I'm not acting though. I'm past caring. If we get him, bully for us, if not, bully for Lisbon. I'd rather we went for a proven Premiership midfielder in all honesty. Then again, I play safe. We've signed Sean Davis, though, meaning we now have three Davies', making commentators jobs much easier. No doubt they'll find a way to balls it up. Idiots.

Anyway, I have 3 months to relax and do fuck all. Life is slightly sweeter than before.

They Call Him Rutman... bringing you FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM since 2009.

Last Post

2009-06-09T12:15:00.004+01:00

So, it appears this is the end of "They Call Him Rutman"... for the time being, at least. Thought I'd say, rather than just leave it, because I was asked by two people, seemingly downhearted that there wasn't a post since May. In fact, I'd say they had tears in their eyes (it's my blog, I'm allowed to exaggerate/lie). Never fear, I may return after exams. Although I'm looking into taking part in another website, footyecho.com. Which would entail writing purely Bolton Wanderers articles/blogs/etc. I'm just waiting for a response.

Which means this particular blog would be lower down. Currently the top priority is revision (or procrastination). Then it's general chillaxing. After exams, I believe general chillaxing would take top priority, followed by 'Pencil Pusher' (yes, I've decided to push on with it anyway). Then maybe getting my Elche team into Europe on FM09 (I was robbed by a point in my second season, after being in the top 7 all season). Then general blogging (I take it far too seriously, tbh).

I haven't whinged yet... most strange. Anyway, the whinging begins. I'm resitting my editorial writing for English. In January, the source material was Jane Austen (boo) and Bolton Wanderers (hurrah). I got an E (boo). This time around, the sources materials are Twin Peaks (TV series 1989-1991... so may be a 20th anniversary piece... boo) and Senior Citizen Fitness (quite self explanitory... boo) Pardon my French, but what the fuck is that? If the AQA headquarters burn down in the near future, remember, I was with you all the time.

Also, I've managed to get a cold... in the middle of June. I caught it off my brother. "Catch it. Bin it. Kill it." indeed. I never get colds in winter (well, I had a fever in December, but that's not important) Every year, I get a cold in late May/early June. I also missed my long awaited doctors appointment, because I thought it was tomorrow. So it's moved to 7th July.

Anyway, that is all, I've got to go back to annotating how old people delay their inevitable heart failure that little bit longer.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you (not so) weekly updates about things nobody cares about.

Write or Wrong

2009-05-24T11:26:00.003+01:00

So, as I mentioned in another blog post, I'm considering writing a book after A Levels. This is just an announcement that the production of "Pencil Pusher" has been postponed till a date unknown. This won't disappoint many (if any), just thought I'd let those who give a shiny shite know.

Speaking of things that should be postponed/cancelled, is appears that Scrubs is set for a ninth season. Bad move imo. Let it go. Seasons 6 and 7 were poor. The end of season 5 was poor imo. Season 8 is supposed to be quite good (particularly My Finale), but I'll wait till that's on E4.

Can't seem to revise. My mind's completely on other things (or to be specific: thing). Can't seem to shake it from my mind. Ah, well. I'll cope. I have worked out that it SHOULD be pretty easy to get into uni. I'm currently on CCC (one C is 5 marks from a B, one is 10 marks from a B). I need CCDe (for the entire A Level) to pass. That means (by my reckoning) that I need DDD. In fact, D and 2 high E's are all I need to get CCDe. I have my E from AS Maths. But yeah. I'm not worried at all. Can see me getting 3 D's, tbh. (I should be getting at LEAST half marks). Not bad for doing little to no work in 2 years.

There was some sort of parade going on outside my house a few hours ago. I despise them. A few clueless fecks on drums, some sad cunts morris dancing and some tools carrying flags. I don't want to seem pretentious, but the downside of being better than everyone else is that people tend to assume that you are pretentious.

See? Demotivational posters are amazingly quality.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you demotivational posters since 2009.

They Think It's All Over...

2009-05-23T10:29:00.003+01:00

So, last night was the leavers do (woo!) for the sixth form. Incredibly bizarre to see all our year in suits. Naturally, Muggins here was the only one to wear a bow tie. And both a waistcoat and a jacket, I think. You're all scruffs imo. One more complaint... Sleepy? I worked for two bastard years to win Grumpy. Bah. Spose this only tells me one thing. Be grumpier. Grrr.

So anyway, yeah. Sixth form is now finished. The reality of exams is kicking in. I might take an extra set of exams (fail badly) just so my results can spell DeUCE. Which, imo, they will. Or spell DeCE (one E's lower case cos it's AS. I'm not abandoning my grammar Nazi-ism) and that's my peak of optimism. Of course, the reality of exams provokes the reality of uni. We've moved on quite quickly. Still, couldn't be happier (well, by my standards. Although I probably could. It's a figure of speech, shurrup) that we finished.

A few footballing predictions. Hull will draw to United. Sunderland will draw to Chelsea. Newcastle will beat Aston Villa. Hull will go down. Sheffield United will win the playoffs, making Burnley's free season tickets to those who renew obsolete. Well, not obsolete, just slightly pointless. As for Bolton. We'll lose to City. Quite badly. 3/4-0 imo. Robinho to score at least two, cos he's an overrated bastard and they usually score against us. Or if someone's not scored for a while. Or if someone's come back from a serious injury.

Anyway, that's all I can be arsed doing. I'm still slightly pissed and I slept for about 2 hours. Sleepy my arse.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you... whatever you want to say about this post since 2009.

If Mediocrity was a Crime...

2009-05-17T19:28:00.002+01:00

So, I managed to fail at my own promise to myself. No drinking till after exams. Got drunk on Friday and Saturday. Ooops. Today has been horrible. My recurring nightmare woke me up at half 5. I've been having the same one every night for a week. Starting to get to me a wee bit. I do know one solution: don't sleep. That's right, after 19 months (or 574 days to be exact. But who's counting?) of complaining that I want to sleep more. I now don't want to sleep. I think that's a fail at every aspect of life. Ah well. Good thing about them, though, is it shows I am normal, to an extent. Proves I might actually miss a person or two. Then again, there's only like 2 people I speak to on a daily basis.

One final week of sixth form. Thank fook. The faster this week goes, the sooner I can restart life. Which means I might be stopping this blog. Or perhaps not. I dunno. But yeah. I've also left myself £7.50 to get a suit for the leavers do. I may have to go in the style of Neil off the Inbetweeners. No shirt or tie. Just pants, shoes and a jacket. Now picture it. Looks like I won't be the only one not sleeping tonight. Ha. (I've even lost heart on trying to make this funny, despite that joke. I usually chuckle to myself when I make a funny. Ah well.)

Another weekend sans revision. I think I'm gonna batter these A Levels. Is it bad that I really don't care what I get? Fail to see the point of getting worked up over them, tbh. I do, however, get worked up about unimportant things, like Football Manager. It's like I'm a young boy inside a man's body. Not in the Michael Jackson way (allegedly). I just don't have responsibilities in order. But I digress.

Completely content yesterday. More miserable than I've ever been in my life today. What a difference a day makes. It's a lottery as to how I am tomorrow.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you lowered levels of enthusiasm since 2009 or whatever.

B-b-bird is the Word

2009-05-15T13:40:00.003+01:00

So, this has nothing to do with birds. I'm just amused by the song on Family Guy. Although there's a poster in our sixth form saying "What is the word?" that looks like Elvis Presley. So that's amused me. Something I've been meaning to put in, but kept forgetting is an advert on t'interweb. From a company called Father Christmas Letters Ltd. 50p for guessing what they do. Anyway, the advert itself amused me.
"We offer the most authentic letter from Father Christmas & Santa Claus to both children & adults with FREE delivery worldwide."
What in tarnation is an authentic letter from Father Christmas or Santa Claus? It's no more authentic than scribbling down a little note saying "Santa Claus woz ere y2kn9" I'm actually wondering how much this costs. Free P+P, though. Some people will buy anything.

I've just now been interrupted with a letter (or exam pack to be more accurate) from the hospital. Apparently I've to fill in 20 forms on Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. It's so very difficult to understand that lack of sleep = tiredness. Apparently I need a physical condition (apparently enough to get a Blue Badge.. what that is, I have no idea. I assume it's a disabled parking badge. Wouldn't mind one for when I'm driving, tbh) I now have to fill out a load of repetitive forms. More undue stress. At least my Elche team are doing okay in La Liga on Football Manager (which I seem to care more about that my A Levels.)

Speaking of A Levels, I know how I'll be spending my time after exams and before uni. I shall be attempting to write a novel. I'll attempt for it to be in the comedy genre. It's gonna be set in Bolton, and the characters will be similar to those of people I know. Myself as the protagonist, of course. Got a few ideas noted down already, so should start getting to work on it mid-late June. I'm actually quite excited (then there'll be the wave of publishers saying it's shite). If it does get published, I already have my pen name sorted. Shan't tell you it, but I'll tell you it's an anagram of Michael Nolan. Yes, that's the type of thing I get up to at 4am.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you upcoming literary news since 2009.

Revision who?

2009-05-13T22:42:00.002+01:00

So, I've not even lasted a month. I WAS revising just last week. For some inexplicable reason, over the weekend, I've stopped completely. Don't know why, don't even know what I did in that time. I seem to lose hours occasionally. I do know, however, that I'm past caring. Just now, I've spent time correcting any typos in previous blog posts. It's unusual for me to make a typo, cos I'm such a nerd about spelling and punctuation. I punctuate my texts. It's courtesy, makes it easir for people to read. You don't need to get our your English to Moron dictionary. No offense, like.

I discovered today I'm currently on a D for my English coursework. We had no help with it. I didn't even have a clue as to what I'm doing on it (usually a good omen for English). I'm not confident of that D being accurate, neither. I'm currently on an E for A2 English. Meaning a D in total. Why do I think that I don't particularly mind a D? As I said. I don't really care any more.

Why are Bolton fans mongtards? Not all of them, there are a few with a cohesive argument about things. I can't be arsed going into all the foolish things I've heard/read. It just annoys me. I do quite like the analogy I've heard for Megson. "He's like Marmite, you either love him or hate him... I hate him." (I have an issue with that Marmite analogy, but I'll get to that.) I'd like to apply a similar one to Bolton fans. They, too, are like a jar of Marmite. You either want to stick a knife in and scoop out the insides, or you're not. I prefer mine, personally. My issue with the original is: surely the same is said for everything? Maybe I'm a man who sees things in black and white (racist), but I either hate things or like things. There's no "Oooh, I like it on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and alternate Sundays, but I hate it every other day." Either you like it or not. Pick one. And don't compare the choice to fecking Marmite. (I wish now to express my confusion as to how some people voted me for Grumpy in the Seven Dwarves awards. I'm clearly more of a Happy or Doc.)

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you copious amounts of pointlessness since 2009.

Chelsea Dagger

2009-05-07T20:17:00.003+01:00

So, I'm sure we're all aware of last night's entertainment. For the benefit of those who don't, Chelsea played Barcelona in the Champions League semi final and drew 1-1, meaning they went out on away goals. Then the Chelsea players all had a hissy fit (bar one or two). Fair enough, the ref was shocking. It's not the first time it'll happen (well, for Chelsea in recent years, maybe) and it won't be the last (well, for Chelsea in recent years, maybe). Diddums. It happens at least 19 games in a single season for Bolton Wanderers, among other teams. The players' reactions were amusing, but not surprising. Remember, this is the team that surround the ref when he gives a freekick the other way in the opposition half. In fact, I've seen them do it (at the Reebok) when he gave us a throw in.

However, the player's reaction are mildly understandable, if a bit pathetic an OTT. But the fans are something else. Forget the arrogance of United fans, the delusion of Newcastle, City, Sunderland, West Ham and Spurs fans, forget the constant referee complaining and when it them at fault, suddenly not see it-ness of Arsenal fans. Forget the violence of the Millwall and "Crazy Gang" Wimbledon fans. Chelsea fans are pure scum. Not for the first time since Mssr Abramovic's introduction, they've decided that their team's inability to win the game, even if a few decisions went their way, is due to the referee. And for that, he must pay the ultimate price. Imagine I took a car to a mechanic to get it fixed, only for him to have inadvertently broken other parts of it. Apparently, I'm fine to issue death threats to him. In fact, that's more of a reason, seeing as the referee didn't hand it to Barca. He even gave them an incorrect red card. Maybe it influenced his later decisions. Maybe not.

But no. Let's look at the 4 penalty shouts. The first one, where he gave a freekick. Well, it depends. There was 3 fouls there. The first (and, indeed, second) were outside the box. Let's assume the referee acknowledges the foul. Plays advantage. Are you suggesting that Malouda had the advantage? No. He didn't. The referee has to give a freekick at the location of the original foul. Which was outside the box. Ergo, a freekick was actually the right decision. Assuming, of course, that he played advantage.

The second, where Drogba went down in the box. I thought it when it happened, and I still think it now. Drogba would have stayed on his feet had the goalkeeper NOT have collected it. He only went down when he realised he'd lost the ball. Slight nudge in the back. Compare that with what Kevin Davies gets every game. It's nothing. The two hand balls were penalties, for me. The player kicked the ball at their hands, but then again, their hands were far too high. But this was after the non-red card. So that may have swayed the decision.

Anyhow. Did Chelsea deserve to win? Over 180 minutes of football, Barca had, what 65% of the total possession? 25 shots? Over 1000 passes? Compare it to Chelsea's. 35% possession? 15 shots? Less than 500 passes? Barca completely outplayed them and definitely went through. I shouldn't bother going off the above stats, it's just a guess based on both legs. Barca win = just desserts.

Slightly more than I thought I'd say, but meh.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you better football analysis than ITV (let's face it, a blindfolded chimp with arthritis and learning difficulties could) since 2009.

Hello Stranger

2009-05-04T17:27:00.003+01:00

So, it's been 3 weeks since my last blog post about how Christmas is quite un-Christian. Believe it or not, I have actually been revising (hurrah). Hence, there's been nothing worthwhile writing about. Not that that's stopped me before. Interestingly enough, I'm revising now, and I've been distracted by this here blog. Today, I had a desk (see: piece of wood) attached to my bed. It's actually quite good, and the only thing I can be distracted by is the laptop, as my back is to the telly. I shall have to master a way for it to seem like I'm working when I'm really watching telly/playing on the PS3. I do rank that higher in my priorities than revision. However, that can wait till after midnight, when I'm at my full mental capacity.

Shit weather, innit? Sunny all week, now it's dark, rainy and miserable. At least it's perked up, then. Yes, I do prefer cold, miserable, rainy days. Can't believe I've been reduced to talking about the weather. I must be mellowing out, it's been 5 or 6 Bolton games since I've felt the need to rant about it. The truly sad thing is I'm disappointed by that. Like my bi-weekly source of enjoyment isn't there. Okay, that may be the truly sad part.

My stapler's broke (yes, that scraping sound you hear is the bottom of the barrel) Other than that, nothing's broken. Which makes a nice change. Ooh, and my analog stick on my USB pad for the PC (I now have obtained San Andreas for the PC. Huzzah) I also almost managed to get Metal Gear Solid 2 for free, as the eBay person didn't have a Paypal account until the day it arrived. Bah. Still, £2 ain't bad.

Shit weather, innit? Oh, I've already said that. Swine flu, eh? Snout to worry about. I'll keep the puns to a minimum. I am highly amused about people getting in a sty-te (apologies) over it. It's no different to bird flu. Except it's North American, rather than Asian. Did you know more people have died of normal flu in the infected countries (Mexico, USA and Britain, as far as I know... although I heard they'd caught it in South Hamerica (sorry)) than swine flu in the past week? Swine flu will die out in a few weeks, like bird flu. Nothing to see here, move on. In 2 years we'll have a strain of flu starting in some thrid world country in Europe. Cue pandemonium. Ah well. The only people who need to worry about it are the pig-botherers in Southern USA.

I can't believe I scraped together a blog post. I'm off to finish this synoptic for PE. I'll pork off for now.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you barrel scraping blog posts that are done to skive off revision for a while since 2009.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Unbearable Shite

2009-04-16T22:45:00.003+01:00

So, I previously mentioned that I'm not a fan of Christmas. A few of you have asked me why (okay, none have, but I recieved some abuse 4 months ago) I don't like it. We'll start off with the abuse. How can I be compared with Scrooge? Surely to God (irony ftw), he made someone work on Christmas, no? So he's ruining Christmas for that person. Whereas I am harmless. I don't stop anyone from celebrating it. I force myself to join in year in, year out (Only at home and only on 25th December, though). So I don't prevent anyone from celebrating it, and I don't lessen my family's enjoyment of it. In fact, this year (when I had my all time high for Christmas dislike) when Derian House in Chorley was ransacked, a Bolton forum I occasionally frequent raised money to help replace the ransacked items and give the kids a good Christmas. I donated the £30 that I received from Pizza Hut that week (I don't why I received it, I left two months previous). Compare that with the amount you donated to them, and it appears that you are more like Scrooge than I am. By the by, this isn't a "look at me, I donated to charity, I'm a swell fella" statement, it's merely informing folk of facts. Just cos I don't like Christmas, doesn't mean I find it acceptable when people who do, have it snatched away from them.

Anyway, why do I not like Christmas? There are many reasons. Firstly, it's selfish. Raise your hand if you've honestly not looked forward to Christmas cos you're getting either a specific present, or money. Thought not. Okay, another reason why people like it is the food. Is there some sort of law in place that demands you can't make the food you make at Christmas on 25th January as well? Or the 3rd July? Or the 29th February (every 4 years, like). No. No, there isn't. And then there's this "season of goodwill" bollocks. Apparently being nice to people for a month towards the end of the year makes up for being an utter cunt the other 11. So, would Adolf Hitler have been a decent guy if he was nice to people at Christmas? Where is the line with it? Yes, I did compare you all with the evil dictator.

Well, that's the non-religious Christmas lovers (who have as much right to celebrate Christmas as they do Diwali or Eid). I'm an atheist, as I've mentioned. Now for this birth of Jesus bollocks. It's a well documented fact that Jesus wasn't born in December. Not even close. If the shepherds truly watched over their flock and saw a star, it'd be more like October at the latest. Why? Because they pen in the sheep in the cold winter months. Also, Christmas isn't even a Christian holiday. It's a pagan holiday. As is Hallowe'en, another "holiday" I dislike. Even so, they didn't pass around presents. A misquoted fact is that most suicides occur around Christmas, but that isn't true. But it is one of the more popular days for people to try.

Which brings me onto a final point. Now imagine for a moment, that you are this man. You were an only child. Your parents are both dead. Any immediate family you have aren't around. Your wife has left you and took the kids. You've lost your job. You have feck all money. You look out the window, and see pretty much everyone being merry and enjoying themselves. You feel like shit. The fact that everyone is enjoying themselves, with their families. And then there's you. Alone. Depressed. Barely enough money to feed yourself. It's amplified by everyone's joy. Don't get me wrong, there's not a large group of people quite this tragic. This is a fairly weak point, because if it's not you, you don't particularly care, no? Me neither. But it's still something to think about. I'm aware that they'd love to trade with me, who would have family and a heap of shite they don't even need. But hey, what am I to do about it? Hunt down these people and offer them my place for a month?

I didn't intend this to become some sort of self righteous rant (although it's not self righteous imo, I don't even need some of these reasons to dislike Christmas) and I don't intend for it to make you enjoy Christmas any less. I just would like to explain myself as to why I don't like Christmas. This December, I'd love nothing less than to be locked away for a month, no newspapers, no telly. No annoying adverts with the same shit Christmas song on every 2 fucking minutes. A la the ASDA advert from last Christmas. And hour after hour of shite Christmas special reruns and shite new Christmas special. I'd rather be locked in a cupboard with a tennis ball to amuse myself. I've read a book by Drew Carey, who also dislikes Christmas, and reading that has only opened my eyes further as to what bullshit Christmas is. According to someone (I shan't say who, it's slightly libellous... and you can never be too careful), that makes me a horrible person. Maybe so (although not for that reason), but at least I don't follow some expensive bullshit, like you.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you well structured arguments against everyone's favourite bullshit since 2009.

Thumbs up friend

2009-04-13T19:48:00.002+01:00

So, it's week 2 of the Easter holidays. Plenty of revision to do. I've erm... barely started. However, when I had started today, I was soon stopped to pick up branches. Yes, you read right. Branches from the tree my dad was pruning. And when I said I was revising, they kicked off. Bloody great. I'll put that on my A Level papers. "Describe the lactic acid energy system." "Oh, I don't know, but I do know if you pick up branches that have been mercilessly slain from a tree, you get sap on your hands and they stink of whatever the hell the tree smells of. And you need to wash yours hands several, SEVERAL times to get rid of it." I'm expecting an A.

I shall take this time to announce that I'm selling out. In this time of financial meltdown, it's wise to get a little extra money. Specifically if you jacked in your job weeks before the credit crunch kicked in. Not my wisest move. Anyway, there's this site Blogsvertise that allows you to get paid for sliding in advertisements for websites/products/companies/etc. Sort of like a bad, cheap American sitcom. Anyone else with a blog or website could join for extra money. If they so wish.

I have recently (today) watched online the first series of The Inbetweeners (second series on now on Thursdays at 10 on E4... I have this advertising bollocks down). I highly recommend. In fact, I have it on good authority that if you don't watch it, you go to hell. Seriously. My friend Billy didn't, and the next day he was hit by a truck and went to hell. Whilst that's not strictly true, it should be.

Anyhow, that's all I can be arsed to do.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you shameless plugs since 2009.

Annual Pointless "Holiday" #2

2009-04-11T00:07:00.005+01:00

So, it's Easter in 2 days. Technically one, cos I'm writing this just past midnight. But anyway, I digress. It's another pointless "religious" holiday forced down our throats. It joins the group of St Valentine's and Hallowe'en. But not Christmas. That's in the bullshit section. But that's another blog post, for another time. But like these 3 days (well, fortnight for Christmas), it's pointless. First of all, my very basic grasp of Christianity and the Bible (featuring Jesus H. Christ as himself) tells me that Easter is celebrating the rebirth of Jesus. Why's it, therefore, a movable holiday? Another thing about Easter is, like Christmas, it's an excuse for spoilt little brats (sorry, children) to be even more spoilt than they already are. And if something's slightly wrong, they whinge. Ungrateful little sods.

What's the deal with eggs? (No, this isn't a crappy lounge comedian joke) They cost, what, £2-3? £2-3 for a chocolate egg, no bigger than a bar of chocolate, and 2 other bars of chocolate. Cost of a mars bar (last I checked) is 40p. So you're paying £2-3 for summat which you can get for £1.20 at most. So that's £0.80-1.80 for packaging. 1-0 to the corporate companies. People used to paint normal eggs, until the big corporate business got their greedy little snouts in the trough. It's no longer a religious holiday (don't get me wrong, I'm not the religious type). Just bullshit. Actually, I'm merging the two groups together. Hallowe'en, St Valentine's, Easter AND Christmas are pointless and bullshit.

Hallowe'en's harmless enough. Well, mostly. Then you get the little cunts that go around egging people/smashing windows/slashing tyres of anyone who happens to not be in that night to give neighbour hood kids sweeties. Any other night of the year, and that's grooming. Except they go to your house without you asking. It's like Domino's for paedophiles. We rarely get people knocking on our doors, despite living on one of the busiest streets in Horwich. Thank God. Last thing I want is my "busy" schedule interrupted by some fat little brat, who's already had too much sweets, demanding more on my doorstep. Trick or treat? You've already got your treat. I've not thrown you in front of a moving car/bus/truck.

As I say, Christmas is a whole different blog post.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you phony religious bollocks hate since 2009.

So Far, So Good...ish. Alright, It's Shite.

2009-04-08T13:35:00.005+01:00

So, it's the Easter holidays, 2 weeks off sixth form (hooray) but close to exams so we should be revising (boo). So far, I've done none (hooray), but I shall start after this (boo). Weekend went fine, Bolton won (hooray), but I lost a tenner, no idea where (boo). Went down to SCAN to get a hard drive for my PS3, got it (hooray) but the screws are tighter than *insert Jewish joke here* (boo). I now have to wait for me dad to return from Europe today.

I was going to do this last night, but I couldn't. Earlier in the day, my antivirus stuff expired (after 4 days... I can't say why, but it should become a parrot). So I spent the day trying to get new antiviruses for free. Arrrr. In my attempts, however, it appears my laptop contracted a few viruses (ironically... what a plank) while trying to download... software (I don't have the disk... shaped like a pie, right?) so after a while of blood, sweat and tears, about a gall(e)on, I finally did a system restore to lunch time on Monday, before the whole episode. It's now virus free, and I now have security on it. It's now in shiptop shape, sea? Can you spot ALL the subtle hints? Answers on a postcard. There are at least 5.

However, it's now time for revision (boo). Really should have started sooner, but to be fair, I'm starting a month earlier than last year.

It's looked a little light, so I'll add about this... erm... different beer mon pere et ma mere brought back from Belgium. It goes by the name Gouden Carolus Triple. Largely because that's its name. However. It is rank. Severely rank. Standing at 9% ABV, it brings a genuine tear to the eye. Imagine John Smiths (for any of you with delightful taste... if not, summat really bitter, like black coffee for instance). Now combine it with caramel. But not much. Just a hint. Mmm. Delicious, isn't it? No, it's not. It's quite simply the worst beer I've ever tasted. And I've had Fosters. In fact, this belgian tripel beer shouldn't be sold in 330ml bottles. It should be dispensed in 25ml (or 35ml, if you're particularly daring) servings. And a coke on the side to take the taste away. But I digress.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you subtle hints as to why antiviruses expire sharpish (that you really should be shot if you don't get) since 2009.

Bah

2009-04-01T19:46:00.002+01:00

So, you may or may not know (btw this isn't giving you permission) I'm not too tolerant of people from other countries or whatever. I'm not too tolerant of my fellow Boltonians, actually. Anyway, I never had any beef with Italy, until recently. Fabio Capello is a cuntchin (it's my firm belief that a crude term for genitalia and another random body part can make a sufficient insult) of the highest order. How many more English strikers need to be injured for him to pick (statistically) England's best striker since August this year? He also doesn't like England's best finisher (Owen), but I digress. Now, I support Holland, so I couldn't giving a flying cat whizz whether England win, lose or draw against some third rate European country (I'm looking at you, Germany...) However, his blatent ignorance of Kevin Davies is now too far. Why is he not picked? Capello is running out of excuses. Age (Heskey is less than a year younger), International experience (Darren Bent has the grand total of 10 minutes of competitive football), Goal total (third highest in the Prem, thank you). Unless proximity to London counts, but even so, he picked Heskey when he played for Wigan.

On another football related theme, it appears I was right before the match. I likened the ref's appearance to that of Mike Riley. He was as big of a knob, too. Apparently two foot tackles are perfectly fine, whether they get the ball or not. Yet a tiny clip on the heel is a foul. We lost 3-0 (again...) Scotland also lost 3-0 to Holland, in case Temple is reading and would like reminding. Also not happy that nobody appears to be streaming Holland vs Macedonia.

Anyway, there's just over 2 months left before exams. Nearly through sixth form. Cannot wait. I can spend all of July and August and half of September watching the Drew Carey Show over and over. I'm actually serious. Even though I get sad at the end of series 6 cos it's when it starts to jump the shark. By that, I mean turn shite (in terms of story. Still funny as fook, mind).

Done the observation and analysis. Did shite, probably about a D, but I don't care. Did cricket, too. Did shite, probably a crap score, but I don't care) I disliked them immensely. I'll have to make it up in the exam... which WILL happen... *cough*.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you whiny, bitter ramblings since 2009.

The Brotherhood of Men

2009-03-21T00:38:00.002Z

So, the world's going through hell in a hand basket. That's an undisputed fact. Usually people begin to look at the world differently after a religious experience, a disaster... hell, even on the shitter. Not me. A few beers and a few (okay, 15) episodes of the Drew Carey Show (I strongly recommend... all those who went on FML can testify that my recommendations are spot on). However, at the end of the 4th season, they performed a number from a musical called "How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying" called the Brotherhood of Men. I now love this song.

"Your lifelong membership... is free. Keep agivin' each brother all... you can. Oh aren't you proud to be... in that fraternity, The great big Brotherhood of Man?" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI3Ay_0ehQ0)

Now, after I've had a few, I'm in the frame of mind where I think (moreso than usual) that everyone's out to screw each other. Which makes me love this song more.

Anyway... enough of (slightly more than usual) meaningful crap... I... err... don't really have owt to add. I've had a shite past few days without reason. Next week will be awful, I'm being assessed in cricket and I'm doing my observation and analysis in PE. Shite scores all round imo. I haven't played a cricket match since I was 13. Hoo-fecking-rah. Doesn't help that people think I'm good at it... I am, and always have been, shite. But (for the tenth time) I digress.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you the Drew Carey Show love since 2009.

I've Run Out of Witty Titles For Now

2009-03-19T15:29:00.005Z

So, as of tomorrow dinner, the whole Gambia trip will finally be over. We came back 4 weeks ago, but I've had to take malaria tablets every day since. I almost forgot once, but figured that 11.58pm still counts as taking it daily. Thank fook it's almost over.

Nice to see another newspaper report on the Hillsborough disaster, showing that there was, indeed, an ambulance allowed in, which all the legal reports have ignored (as in not overlooked, knew about and left out intentionally)... allegedly (for legal reasons, God knows anyone can get sued for anything these days). However, I must have missed that newspaper report 10 days ago on the Burnden disaster. Or am I making up this disaster? There's also very few mentions of the Bradford disaster, the Ibrox disaster (episode 1 or episode 2) or any others. Let's take a moment for the families of the victims.

Now, one thing that really grinds my gears (copyright Family Guy... can't be too careful) is Alan Titchmarsh and his daytime (well, 3pm) TV programme. Biggest load of crap on telly. I was unfortunate to be downstairs getting a beverage when it came on. Never a good sign when the first impression (the theme tune) pisses you off already. I notice he has now started calling it the AT Show (though I can think of a few letters it's short of...) in some desperate attempt to seem with the times (his words, I'd imagine). First of all, he's trying to target a younger audience (rather than a buggy load of pensioners), which is futile as they are all (or should be) at school at that time. Second of all, he's not even close to funny. Back to your flowers, your gravel, your water features and your grass (no, not that), old man.

And finally, I seem to be getting calls from Unknown Number rather frequently. This is pointless as A - half of the time my phone's on silent and I don't hear it, and I love my ringtone anyway and would listen to it constantly if I could, and B - I don't pick my phone up anyway. It's a thing I do. I just don't pick it up. I saw it on Fight Club, thought it made sense, so now I don't do it. So if you are trying to speak to me, 141ing it is pointless. If you're doing it to get your jollies, it is also pointless. Only other thing I can think of is if it's that pesky ice cream truck driver again, and if I pick up, I will be greeted with that irritating tinny monstrosity that is Yankee fecking Doodle.

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you Alan Titchmarsh hate since 2009.

Finally

2009-03-16T19:12:00.004Z

So, I've finally found a new title. It's not obviously funny, but if you watch the right TV programmes, you'll recognise it. T'other two choices were "Michael Nolan... who?" (courtesy of Jake Ross) or "Brand New Customers Only" (courtesy of the Nationwide adverts). I'm not too Roy (keen) on the first one, and the second one is just bizarre. So is "They Call Him Rutman", but there you go. The clown is down.

There's not really much I can talk about, really. Erm... Oh, I know what I can do. http://www.fmylife.com/ - Quite possibly the greatest website in creation (except this one, naturally). I've spent countless minutes chortling at other people's misfortune (which we all enjoy).

Also, it seems that Jose Mourinho has punched a United fan in the face. +10 respect. Serves hhim right, apparently he was goading Mourinho. He had no injuries (sadly) and didn't need treatment (sadly), so it leads me to ask. How the feck is it assault (what he's trying to get Mourinho done for) when there's basically no harm done. I patted a friend on the shoulder. I spose that's assault, too. I also gave a fella on the bus a funny look. GBH, anyone? Possibly deep emotional trauma, but everyone gets that when I look at them, funny or not. But (once again) I digress.

I have my cricket evaluation in PE on Wednesday. I haven't played in a real match since I was 13 (and that was an Under 15s game when I faced one ball and fielded two). I haven't even played in the garden since I was 15. If that. I have to transform into Shane Warne by Wednesday. Not happening. Ah well. Say larve.

Ha, looks like I did have some stuff to talk about after all. Who'd have thunk it?

They Call Him Rutman - bringing you a lot about a little since 2009.

Hopeless...Utterly, Utterly Hopeless

2009-03-15T20:07:00.003Z

So, the good thing about having a blog is I now have a place to put my rants regarding anything. Usually Bolton Wanderers. Which brings me to a riddle. What do you call an intelligent thought in the Reebok Stadium? Whatever you want, it's not like there's ever one there. It wasn't meant to be funny. Most factual statements aren't. Arguing with a Bolton fan is pointless. When you start, they make a moronic statement quicker than you can say "Megson out." (and it usually is) Allow me to elaborate. I shall now quote a phone call from BBC GMR with a Bolton fan...
"Gubbins: It's alright playing one man up front against United and trying to snatch a draw, but on paper Fulham are an average side like us. If we're playing them at home, we should be playing 4-4-2, we might win.
Alan Gowling: We WERE playing 4-4-2.
Gubbins: Yeah, but it doesn't work."

That, boys and girls, is your average Bolton fan. Words haven't been invented yet to describe such idiocy. When Fulham scored their 3rd, after the imminent boos, I was the only person still sat in my seat in a 6 or 7 seat radius. They'd headed for the exits. And then there's the ones booing O'Brien cos he (as well as Jussi. A fact overlooked) made a mistake which lead to their first. And then there's the chap on the stairs after the match. He said to his mate saying summat about the club being in the shit. 11th? Is that the shit? There's 6 teams below us still safe as it is. We need 7 clubs to get 4 more points than us. Unlikely. Idiots.

Then there's the ones saying he should have picked Puygrenier or Shittu over O'Brien. Last week, Puygrenier was "unfit and dodgy" and Shittu was "As his name suggests (lol... the wit of some people is too much to bear sometimes. Arse.) the worst defender I've seen in a Bolton shirt." Ergo, they'd have picked AOB before any of them. Wouldn't mind if what they've said is true, neither. Fair enough with Puygrenier, but he looks like he can defend and get the ball out to a Bolton player. And as for Shittu. He's played 5 league matches for us. In 3 of them, he was one of our best players (Arsenal away, Wigan at home and West Brom at home) and, in fact, I think he won MotM in 2 of them (Arsenal and Wigan... not sure about the latter, but definitely the former) and was by no means a disaster in the other two. But hey, he's got "Shit" in his name, he must be awful. Nat Lofthouse has "house" in his name, so by virtue, he'd be an excellent urban dwelling. I, myself, have "No" in my name, so I must be brilliant at responding in the negative. (I am, but that's neither here nor there)

Just to clarify, not ALL Bolton fans are like this, not even all Megson haters. A small minority (I'm talking in a similar ratio to white people in Bradford) can put forward a coherent argument. But it's a wonder some people are allowed out of the house. Or the home, it depends on just how foolish they are.

Insert Witty Title Here (I PROMISE I'm trying to think of a better title) - bringing you anti-anti-Megson rants since 2009.

Moon Over Parma

2009-03-14T12:55:00.004Z

So, there's this TV programme that I think is immensely superior to most others, I doubt any of you will have seen it before. But every episode is on Youtube. I've managed to find out a way to download them all without doing much meself. Rather than choosing to convert every file through Zamzar, I found this programme to do it all for me. Hoorah. I'm now half way through downloading the first season (for some reason unbeknownst to all logic and myself, I downloaded season 4 last night). I love The Drew Carey Show, even though the acting is of a Year 1 nativity standard. They're smirking and grinning all the way through, in fact, I thought at one point that someone would wave to someone in the audience.

From a quality comedy to something entirely different. Comic Relief. So very disappointing. The pinnacle of my disappointment was somewhere between the Mamma Mia sketch (I completely didn't get it. Must have had to have seen the film, I spose) and Little Britain (a programme I deplore. After episode 1 of series 1, I don't think any of the material changed) meets Catherine Tate (see Little Britain). Cringeworthy. Wasn't impressed with the WWI sketch from Mitchell and Webb and Armstrong and Miller. The Sir Digby Chicken Caesar one was fair good. Other than that... utter tripe. Our school and sixth form, again, were shocking. My lawyers have informed me, for legal reasons (probably), I cannot tell you that the school take a percentage of the money raised for themselves (one year it was about £1100... if every kid brought a quid, we'd have have closer to £1,500. And then there's the cake sales they usually do. There's another few hundred.) Like I say, though, I'm not allowed to say that.

Supposed to be going to an 18th tonight. As it stands, I am going. Although the last 2 I didn't go to because of a trademark last minute (well, about 7pm) change of heart. Also watching Bolton today. In what was voted the worst matchup in the Premiership. The league's worst home fans (allegedly) meet the league's worst away fans (allegedly). Fulham haven't won away from home all season, and I think have only won one away game in 4 seasons (although I may be wrong). Head says 3-1 Bolton. Two for Captain Kev, and one for Taylor. Andy (not Andrew) Johnson to get Fulham's. Unless he's injured.

Insert Witty Title Here - bringing you criticisms of charity programming since 2009.

I Can't Think of a Relevant Witty Title

2009-03-12T18:34:00.002Z

So, yesterday we played football for sixth form. On the astroturf on Station Park. Last week's debacle meant that Blackpool (when warming up) fecked up our pitch. Thanks for that, fellas. Now, with Horwich being Horwich, and Rivington and Blackrod Sixth Form being Rivington and Blackrod Sixth Form, the thought of having a reasonable demand, such as full size nets, was too great. So we used hockey nets. Not that I'm complaining, they're roughly two thirds the size, if that. My job is easier. Although the pitch was bigger, so everyone was stretched. My job is harder. So it evens out.

Anyway, we took the lead, through a goal that never was (imho, of course), a la Reading. Then they equalised with their 10th one on one, or summat like that. It went through my legs. Shoddy goalkeeping. I blame the pitch. They nearly took the lead via a mix up with me and a defender (I was letting it roll out for a goal kick, he tried to keep it in play, it let in their striker.) Thankfully a defender cleared it off the line. Second half we scored again towards the end. And in the last few minutes I finally made a real save that I was pleased with. They were through on their umpteenth one on one. He tries to lob and I push it over the bar (just).

Anywho, we hung on and won. Now, because life can't be nice to me for a full 24 hours, I got the proverbial kick in the bollocks the very next day. Today, that is.

Today, we got our results from our January exams. I resat two PE exams (got Ds in the originals). Got a C on one (22 marks more than before) and a D on the other (3 less than before... but I didn't revise). Now, I also took an English exam. Unlike my previous two, where I wasn't too sure as to what I was actually doing, and did piss all prep (I got 2 Cs), I actually knew what I was doing. And prepared for about a week (we had the reading materials a week beforehand).

I know what you're thinking. And no. No, I didn't get a higher score. I got an E. One mark off a D. But that's like saying you ALMOST held onto the soap in the prison showers and ALMOST didn't get gangraped. The exam was 2 hours long. The kicker? It was on Bolton Wanderers. If I was ever to go on mastermind, my topic would be Bolton Wanderers. I thought I did really well, meself (before today). I used to want to be a sports journalist. Evidentally I can't do it, so am right to change... but I digress (again). So now I may have to resit (I say may, because I heard on the grapevine that they're all being remarked. Rightly so, I definitely did more than 44 marks worth. I reckon the examiner couldn't read my writing proper and couldn't be arsed. If you happen to be reading, I am currently tracking your whereabouts so I can have a new, lifelike ventriloquist dummy). Guarantee the material will be on the Life and Works of Professional Paint Dryer Peter Johnson and the Joys of Quilt Making.

So I DO have a small lifeline. Although I'm not optimistic of them actually being remarked, or if they are, that my score will improve. That is all.

Insert Witty Title Here - bringing you life's rewards and life's kicks in the gonads in one handy bitesized blog post.

The Ice (Cream) Man Cometh

2009-03-10T23:15:00.001Z

So, to tell you this little story, I need to tell you the events of a few months (well, almost a year) ago (as I type, I've missed half of Shameless... fook). It was mid May, I think. Should have been because I was revising for my forthcoming PE exams. Anyway, I only really noticed at that time, but for a whole month (and till the end of August) there was an ice cream man driving pst my house, blaring out his shite tinny version of 'Yankee Doodle'. He wasn't stopping. At least, I should think not, as my road's fairly busy. But I digress.

Anyway, this happened twice every day, on his way round and his way back. A few months later, before we finished Year 12 after the exams, I was sat in double English on a Tuesday afternoon. What should I hear about half an hour before the end of school? Yankee bastard Doodle. I saw him (quite shocked, to be honest. My family tried to tell me that he didn't exist, and I was beginning to believe them. The swines told me later they were taking the piss.) when I was walking home. As I was giving him a dirty look, I realised he was an Asian fella, so I promptly stopped. He'd have seen it as a random white sixth former giving him dirty looks. Lord knows if 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' is racist, then giving a random Asian fella the evils is. Even if he's harassed me for 3 months.

Anyway, I bring that up, because a few days ago, I was minding me own business, dodging work. I sit there, listening to music. Miserable day, wasn't raining so long ago. And then, as I opened Word to start to type up my notes for RS, what should I hear? Yankee bastard tosspot cunting shithouse arsehole Doodle. Who the fuck wants ice cream at the start of bastard March? WHO? WHO?! Honest to God, who?

Fury, mild irritance, annoyance, confusion. It conveys a lot of emotions.

Insert Witty Title Here - bringing you nostalgia since 1009. (badum tsh)

I Can't Get To Sleep. I Think About The Implications.

2009-03-09T22:07:00.004Z

So, when I started this blog, I promised myself that I wouldn't go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on (go on then, a few more) and on and on about not being able to sleep. However...

After getting about 24 hours sleep all week last week (as opposed to the 56 recommended) I failed to get any last night. Sadly, this is a regular occurance. As much as it makes me feel rough, there are SOME perks. I'm excused for being a knob to people. Folk piss off and leave me alone. And best of all, the weird hallucinations. Not proper flying pink elephant hallucinations. For example, in form today, I was staring at the carpet (as you do) and I noticed it was turning from flourescent red to flourescent green. It wasn't really, I just saw it.

One annoying thing is the inability to concentrate on what someone's saying. I have a problem with this anyway (I generally lose interest if they don't get to the point in 10 words or less). But I hear the first few words of a sentence, then some Charlie Brown-esque warbling noise, then the last few words. Handy for when someone's talking at you about some bullshit you don't give a shiny shite about, and a huge hinderance when someone's talking at you about some bullshit you don't give a shiny shite about but it's relevant to your A Level.

3 hours ago, I were nodding off. Now I feel fine. Nose to nose with 4am again, ah reckon. Oh well. Sailor V.

Insert Witty Title Here - Bringing you song lyrics as part of blog post titles since 2009.

Mince Pie, Squirty Cream. Come on Sandman, give me a dream

2009-03-09T04:14:00.008Z

So, for the 8th night in succession, I'm staring 4am in the face. Only I'm not even close to falling asleep. So I'm sat here, listening to music (Meat Pie, Sausage Roll, for the record. Provided the inspiration for the title. I'm pretty pleased for it at 4am, tbh)

I have half a bottle of JD that I'm contemplating swigging, see if that sends me. Although I have to get up in less than 3 hours. Might just whack Pro Evo on for a while. Or go on Football Manager. Or lie staring at the ceiling for another few hours. Oh, the choice.

Gonna be in no mood for people tomorrow, so if I seem pissed off with you (if, at all, anyone's reading) then you know what's to blame.

Speaking of tomorrow, I have to get into form at 8.45am. My next (and only) lesson of the day is at 1.35pm. Now, I'm no maths whizz (I used to be, but I digress) but I make that 4 hours and 25 minutes of waiting (form finishes at 9.10am). On top of less than two and a half hours sleep (assuming I sleep in the next 10 minutes)

I am delighted with the title, though. I do amuse myself.

Insert Witty Title Here - bringing you amusing-but-probably-not-as-amusing-as-I'd-like-to-think titles since 2009. (I may make this my sign off thing).

EDIT (Morning after) - I didn't sleep at all. Bully for me. I now feel exhausted.

Piss up in a brewery

2009-03-06T12:29:00.005Z

So, it's Wednesday lunch time. We go on the coach to take the hour long journey to Blackpool for sixth form football. I haven't played since November, and haven't made a real save since October (I'm a goalkeeper. Or try to be) - that's not to say I concede a lot. I concede one goal every game, no more, no less - although my last game I played at left back.

So anyway, we arrive, and were told that their sixth form had gone to ours. Turns out it was a home game. So we drive all the way back to Rivington. Only some clown decided it'd be great to cause a pile up on the other lane. That didn't make us go slowly for ages per se, just it caused all the fecking rubberneckers to stare at it. So we finally get back at 3 (1 hour after kick off was supposed to be) and Blackpool had set up the pitch. Now we have 2 teams, and they only set up one pitch.

Then, our teacher decided that the pitch was unfit to play on. So we had to go to the changing rooms and get changed (we got into our kit on the fecking coach back). So we'd wasted 2 and a half hours(ish) for fook all. Like I say... can't organise a piss up in a brewery.

Insert Witty Title Here (yeah, the name's a work in progress) - bringing you mediocrity since 2009.

Greetings

2009-03-05T20:43:00.005Z

So, I've never quite understood to attraction to (or even the point of) writing a blog. Or reading one. But it seems near enough everyone else is doing it, so yeah. This is my blog. I can't promise it'll be funny. I can't promise it'll be entertaining. I can't promise there'll be anything of any interest to anyone. However, I'll probably go along with this for a month or so and either forget about it or just stop being arsed about it.

Anyway, I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. I'm quite a secretive person. That's about it, really. Nah. We'll start with the boring stuff. My name's Mike, I hail from Bolton, dubbed "the arsehole of the universe." by Raymond Domenech (Bolton, that is... not me). All I can say is he's clearly not been to Blackrod. And he's French. But I digress. I like to think myself as quite funny (nowt special, but funnier than most people I know), however most of my amusing comments are too clever for most people, and I just get blank stares. I try to select the level of intelligence for different audiences, but meh. It's their loss. When I'm not at sixth form (where I pretend to pay attention in PE, Philosophy and Ethics and English Language), I'm usually at home, actually. I like to think I split my time evenly working/studying and doing nowt particularly. But I lie to myself. It's more 10% working and 90% doing sod all.

I'm currently between jobs. I used to work at Pizza Hut (I use the term "work" very loosely, in the 11 months I was there, I was getting like 4 hours a week for 6 months). I quit cos it made me miserable. I can't seem to get a job now because nobody's hiring because of the credit crunch, which kicked in about a month after I quit. A decision I'm slightly regretting. Ah well... c'est la vie.

I used to enjoy playing 5 a side football, but we have since stopped. I stopped enjoying it towards the end, though. I used to enjoy watching Bolton, but a combination of me beginning to care less about stuff and the fact that 80% of Bolton fans I encounter seem to be morons, means I now don't enjoy it much. As for other past times and interests, I don't really have any. I live an extremely exciting life, don't I?

I'm not much of a conversationalist. I'm usually the one who just listens and chirps in whenever someone makes a foolish statement. Which is frequent, to be fair. If I'm not doing that, I'm, sat in the corner sharpening my metaphorical knife (no, not that, you sick bastard). Not surprisingly, I'm not a terribly sociable person. I could happily go a year with no outside human contact, I only actually enjoy the company of about 4 people.

I'm supposed to be going to university in September to study law. However, a combination of me not being able to be arsed going, and me not being arsed about my A Levels, leads me to believe I may not go. One thing's for sure, I can't wait until the end of sixth form. I hate the place, and I despise most of the people there. 50% of them only get their vocabulary from whatever phrase it is people are using at that time. As I say, morons.

So yeah, that's me. I like to think of myself as God's way of making everyone else happier about their lives. I'm an atheist, but still.

Peace out.