BoldBelvoir's Grumpy Owd Twat Blog

Well, the awards season has come round again. That time of the year when all  the over paid, over privileged, kissy-faced, ego bloated tossers that make up the film industry give themselves a pat on the back. Last night it was the Golden Globes.

Now I don’t watch award ceremonies because what really hacks me off is the way all of the winners, without exception, praise everybody else they’ve ever worked with.

Am I to believe that, in the history of film making, there’s never been a cross word between members of the cast? Or nobody’s had a little tantrum because they didn’t get choccy biccies with their tea during a break in filming? Yet everybody was ‘wonderful’ or gave a ‘marvelous performance’ or was a ‘lovely, caring person’.

Come on, tell it how it is. Dish the dirt: ‘Julia Roberts – what an annoying shit she was!’ or ‘Mel Gibson – the arrogant twat.’ If they made speeches like that, I might be tempted to tune in.

I picked up a copy of the music review/gig guide newsletter ‘Moonshine’ in Nottingham yesterday. It’s published by a guy who’s a classic rock DJ/radio DJ/publisher/promoter and goes by the name of Mick Moonshine.

At the back of the magazine he runs a column called ‘Sacko’s Shit List’. I am assuming that it’s a list of pet hates that readers have sent in to the magazine. Now I thought I was grumpy, but some of the comments had me reeling and made me determined to up my game:

The phrase ‘of all time’ when they mean ‘ever’. All time includes the fucking future. So there.

Whoever it was who thought of calling the TV channel ‘Dave’. Cunt.

That bloody bleeding effing shitting Pogues xmas song. Shit, shit,shit,shit shit, shit, shitting, shittety shittish shit. And the only reaon (sic) anyone likes it is
because it’s got a swear word in it and you are supposed to like it because it’s the best xmas song ever which is shitting isn’t so shit.

DVDs that wont let you fast forward through the piracy warning. Either you paid for it so it doesn’t mean you or you pirated it and you don’t care.

Women tennis players grunting. If I want to see two lezzers grunting I have many a video at my disposal, ta.

You can visit Mick’s web site and download the magazine here.

Yay! The TV show I love to hate is back. I’ve banged on about 24, the incredibly-daft-but-meant-to-be-serious American TV show, loads of times before.

It’s so ridiculously unbelievable, I love to pick fault with it.  And with 24 episodes (hence the name of the show – brilliant, eh?) I hope to have lots of whinges about this silly show in the coming weeks. Riveting, isn’t it?

Did you see the pictures of Iris Robinson on the news over the weekend with that ‘guilty-as-fuck’ sickly grin on her fizzog? You know, one of those looks that’s just crying out for a good thwacking from a lump of four-be-two?

Oooooo. Couldn’t you just?

Have you noticed how, when people are describing something as ‘free’, they prefix it with the word ‘absolutely’. Of course it’s ‘absolutely’ free. What other ‘free’ is there? Partly free? Semi- free? Free with some strings attached that you won’t notice unless you can be arsed to read the small print? I suspect so.

Let’s have free described as free and stop trying to tart it up! Absolutley is rapidly becoming my No.1 pet hate word (see my previous post).

All the Christmas paraphernalia came down today. Bloody pleased to see the back of it and all.

SWMBO’s decorations consisted of shiny, twee girly stuff that has no function whatsoever and the the bits that did, for example, Santa-shaped candles, were not allowed to be lit “because they are ornaments”. WTF?

So, down they come and now there’s bits of tinsel all over the place and dust clouds of glitter in the air so thick that I think we’ll have to wear protective masks for the next decade at least. We also placed so many cards in the recycle bin that they must have taken a forest the size of Clumber Park to produce.

My ‘decorations’, on the other hand, consisted of one firkin of beer. Neatly rolled into the conservatory, allowed to settle, consumed and rolled back out again. No fuss, no mess.

As Vic would say: “I don’t belieeeve it!” After being solidly bombarded for months by Strictly Come Dancing, what have the BBC decided to replace the programme with? – another friggin’ dance show!! What makes the BBC think that everyone gives a monkey’s chunker about dancing? Do the programmers need some fresh ideas? Well here’s some for free:

How about ‘Be a more considerate driver’ or ‘Become a perfect neighbour’ or ‘Take responsibility for your fucking kid’s behaviour’. Get my drift?.

Come on Beeb, let’s have some fresh ideas before we become a nation of mincers.

Bollocks.