The Black Sheep

I think there comes a time in every man's life when he must face up to the past. A time when he must confront his darkest secrets, secrets he had hoped would never become public knowledge. Today I am that man and I must share with you, my loyal readers, the Creedon family secret. This week I received a telegram from the British Prime Ministers Office, nothing special about that I hear you say, and you'd be right for Tony is in regular contact with me to get my views on Britain's foreign policy. However this letter was different, it was from a junior vice secretary in charge of military affairs. Well to quote the song, my blood ran cold. What I am about to relate now hasn't been spoken aloud for nearly eighty years. You see my great grand uncle Wilf Creedon not only fought in the Great War but was shot at dawn .

Wilfred Alfred Creedon was born in a bog just outside Terminfeckum in the midlands in 1890. At the age of three he moved to England to seek his fortune but quickly fell in with the wrong crowd and found himself well known to the local beek for several minor crimes. However by 1916 times had changed and the body count on the Western front grew inversely portportionatly to the number of people volunteering for active duty. So when Wilf came before the magistrate for being drunk whilst in charge of a penny farthing he was given the choice of three years in the clink or a tour of duty. Well, still being intoxicated he chose the latter.

Wilf rose quickly to the rank of Colonel in the army (a rank he assumed when he shot his commanding officer in the back as he "went over the top") and held that position through out the war (largely through blackmail and intimidation). The Fake Colonel, as he later became known, spent the entire war in one French doss house or another enjoying the trappings that his position afforded him. However his luck ran out when he was found in the bed of a French Generals wife, with the wife and her daughter. Challenged to a duel Wilf quickly fled the scene only to find a courts martial awaiting him upon his return to the front. On April 4, 1917 Colonel Wilf Creedon was found guilty of "conduct unbecoming an officer, larceny, public nudity, public urination, unlawful carnal knowledge of a geriatric and most damning of all, collusion with an enemy officer". He was shot at dawn................

So you can imagine my delight when I opened the letter to find that he's been pardoned and I am to receive his army pension, backdated with interest and inflation added......Huzzah!!!
Here's to you Wilf you drunken, philandering ne'er do well.






World War One, Shot At Dawn Ireland, James Dutton Is Dead, Genthar, Colonel Creedon

Sandi Thom Must Be Stopped

This internet has given us many wonderful things, the ability to communicate with one another over vast reaches of land and sea in a split second, the ability for angry, disinfranchised loners to spout off their petty rants to all and sundry, not to mention the wall to wall pornography.

But with the birth of the internet has come the inevitable afterbirth that is Sandi Thom. For those of you who do not listen to "popular" music don't start now because over the last few weeks our airwaves have been poluted by the rancid droning of a self publiscising moaner. Ms Thom, who couldn't get a record deal in the real world, decided to set up her own web site and let anyone listen to her songs for free. Now due to her clicking on her own website a thousand times a day some A&R dummy thought 'Wow, what a phenomanan!!' and signed the bitch. As a result we have to listen to 'I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker With Flowers In My Hair' forty times a day.

To be honest I wish she was a punk rocker with flowers in her hair as well. If you think about it the punk rocker is the anthisesis of the hippy, so if you had a half hippy, half punk rocker it would be hated by both sets of malcreaents. Which has a nice symetry to it since Ms Thom is hated by 9 out of ten groups I surveyed.

But it doesn't stop there, she's only put out a follow up single, 'What If I'm Right'. A song in which she bascially expect's her fella to make all the scarifices in their relationship (like not get fat or sell his vinyl records to buy a shagging house) while she makes none. This could be a fucking anthem for modern day women, give me everything and get shag all in return but a mouthful of abuse!!! My grandmother, God bless her, had to draw water from a fucking well in order to hydrate her family, and then you've got this whining cunt wanting to live in a bygone day. Well I'm sure my old gran would gladly have swopped hauling gallons of water accross a wet field in the month of December to live your life of fucking luxury.




Die Sandi Thom, die!!!!!!

Sandi Thom found dead, I killed sandi thom, sandi thom found murdered, sandi thom is a terrorist and is planning to blow up the white house