The Snug

I have no problem with tattoos, but out of personal choice it isn't something that particularly interests me. It's not the pain that puts me off, more the permanency of a tattoo. Having 'Mum', 'Love' or 'Fred the Red' tattooed on some part of your body is something that I suppose you're pretty safe with, but when you decide to have a lover's name adorned on your body I guess you got to be pretty sure of a bond that won't be broken.

Sadly Joanne Raine from Darlington decided that her partner Andrew's nickname Roo was a fine idea for a tattoo on her stomach. Along Miss Raine goes to the local tattoo parlour and picks out the letters she requires. The tattoo artist does his job and hey presto she is now the proud owner of her partner's nickname.

Now I know you can guess what happens next...

The news these days seems to made up of breaking headlines, most of it updated every second as the ticker runs across the bottom of the screen, screaming for requests of 'your footage'. By its nature all early reports have inaccuracies that are sometimes ironed out at a later date depending on their importance, or left as 'early indications' that almost always turn out to be wrong. However, as that news becomes tomorrow's chip paper so we hear nothing, fine if the news is done and dusted but what if you want to know how it ended up? On this occasion I can actually almost complete the loop on one story that broke back in July '07.

Yesterday I laughed, I laughed a lot. Now it isn't the done thing to laugh at the misfortune of others, but this tickled me. In a tribute to times gone by in Cartmel Bar having a lunchtime beer and struggling with the Mirror Quizword (a cunning play on the words quiz and crossword), I felt I had to share the blog below.

It seems that a young lad from Devon has been stealing roadcones for his own one-man/boy re-enactment of Harry Potter. Sadly the poor child didn't realise that although the cone was nice comfortable fit, it unfortunately didn't want to leave its new home – if you want the Potter analogy 'the sorting hat was having a very long indecisive moment'.

H’s link to a story on the Times website about carbon footprints, made me look at the 'Times Recommends' story, titled ‘Scientists Persuade Male Moths to be Gay’. As I haven’t got the original research I am somewhat concerned that the Times has turned a serious problem of controlling over breeding in this particular species of moth, into some jovial joke at the expense of gays.

Certainly there is no evidence that scientists have developed a method to ‘turn’ moths. The evidence seems to be that female pheromones are sprayed over hatching sites, larvae emerge and the male moths try to have their wicked way with the larvae – more like a case of child abuse, but then again that isn’t a laughing matter.

The article continues to ramble on about aspects of the problem, but with the odd gay aside about Sir Elton John and civil partnerships, maybe it’s April 1st and I’ve missed a few months of my life, (I have been suffering from the dreaded ‘Man Flu’ recently) but more likely it is another case of lazy journalism, and certainly not an article I would ‘recommend!’

Just thought I'd share this with you all. If you haven't seen this before, this very amusing goal turned up in the Sweden v Iceland match. Everyone stops thinking play is over, but as the saying goes you should always play to the ref's whistle.

This is really only a short post to say well done to Morecambe. Their thrilling 2-1 victory over Exeter was a damn sight more entertaining than the cup final - although we'll not quibble about the result

Anyway I'm sure those of us who used to frequent the sandbank behind the goal will wish them well next season, only in my case not when they take on Chester. I take it that the ground has improved somewhat since the last time we were there.

Now that I've given you all a taster of what I've been up to, I can now begin blogging again and really this is the best and only place for this item.

It seems that a bunch of Travellers, or for you Viz readers out there TGBs, have decided that what they are lacking is a degree from one of the North's finest institutions. Infact according to the article on the BBC website it seems that they have also solved any accommodation problems by providing their own mobile houses.

Yes it seems if you are currently a rugby player at Lancaster University, your set of six might be thwarted by a piebald horse and a couple of chickens, or your 40/20 kick might end up in a burning brazier.