Three people who bring shame on the country.  I’m not won over by PR, who has the brightest tie, and who can shove as many fancy leaflets through my front door.  One of these people thinks he can run the country when he didn’t pay for his own fitted kitchen.  The only place he would go in my world is jail as long with anyone else who claims benefits when they are not telling the truth.  I have to pay for a new kitchen so why should he get one on the jolly?

Another one of these cretins who wears the sea on a sunny day decided it was ok to litter my countryside.  I drive from my house through the Shropshire countryside and I see a sign in every field.  Isn’t that fly tipping?  Or simply littering.   I have lots of household rubbish and posters I don’t want anymore but I don’t want it in a field.  As if a few posters in every field are going to change my mind.  All that says to me is that someone is desperate to reside in number ten.

We don’t live in a perfect world and people who think that a new party and prime minister will wave a magic wand are fools.  This is not to say I am a support of the current leader.  He is a bit like a sat nav which guides you to a cliff top.  The question is will the country get out in time before we go over the edge?

The only way forward for Britain is to get rid of all of them and start a fresh, new rules on expenses and wipe away any anxiety on trust.  Let’s make Britain great again for goodness sake.  Many foreigners residing in the UK criticise us for being too passionate about our nation, too proud and too patriotic…but ask yourself one question?  You chose to live here!   

One final thought – who the hell does Alex Salmond think he is, some Scottish version of Nick Griffin?  Stop acting like a spoilt brat whose parents won’t let him have any popcorn at the cinema.  Salmond it’s easy.  We are British not English, Scottish, Welsh or Irish – we all reside in the UK – it is ONE country of four nations!

There is not much else in this world that riles me more than trudging through city centres at Christmas time.  Often you are carrying heavy bags full of expensive things that you will not even use and end up giving away to someone else, who then proceeds to throw it in a loft, never to see the light of day again.  However, discovering that you have to do this whilst trudging through a beloved ‘German Christmas market’ is like hearing news that you have been burgled whilst you await your alarm to be repaired. 

German markets and me do not get on.  There is an uneven attraction of hatred towards these idiotic sheds full of nothing but cheap tat, sausage munching Boris Becker look-a-like tourists who spend two months of the year on our shores attempting to con us out of our own money by selling us items which are ‘so called’ craft made in ‘Frankfurt’. 

I simply do not understand the attraction of visiting such places; which let’s be honest are obviously full of items which have fallen off the backs of lorries, are way overpriced and are actually manufactured in a mass produced warehouse by some chap called Hans on the outskirts of Leverkusen.  

And it seems that the nation of Germany is not content with taking over just one city during this festive season.  As twentieth century history supports, these pests want to take over every city, spreading this German theme of low quality goods and food which tastes like excrement. 

If visiting Birmingham was not enough, these bandwagons of vermin have also infested the cities of Liverpool and Southampton too, cities which have a higher level of social importance and class compared to the despair and depression of living, in Birmingham.  I am astounded. 

In fact how many more cities are there in the UK whose council divisions have been brainwashed by this brigade of germanitis, who like a cult religious group persuade people to give them space to give us their meaningless tat.  But ask yourself one question, why do we have to have German markets?  Do they celebrate Christmas more over there? I don’t think so, if I wanted the German Christmas experience I would fly to Bonn and have a very miserable time. However one thing I do know is that I want my Christmas market next year to be British!

From the media coverage in the past seven days it seems to someone like me, who didn’t know about this guy, that Stephen was a decent human being and a good honest person, who has been taken away from his family much much too soon.  No one should die in this day and age of natural causes in their thirties, yet it does and is not uncommon.  You don’t have to be a medical genius to say that even the fittest person can suddenly have heart failure – and that’s from getting a double grade C for my GCSE!  

Therefore for this reason alone I share the anger and rage with the rest of the population towards the garbage mouth of a certain Jan Moir.  It seems that the Daily Mail and this poor excuse of a current affairs commentator have over stepped the mark to such an extent – where they have jumped over the line and into the horizon!   

On Friday this ‘Jan’ creature, and her foolish editor published an article which is nothing more than something which they should both lose their job over, and the paper heavily punished for.  My hate for the Daily Mail and often their arrogant readers is no new thing.  In a way this article doesn’t surprise me, as it sums up their values and lack of decency.  I firmly understand the differences between fact and opinion – and from my basic journalistic training at uni, what they published is in breach of defamation. 

This article is pure drivel, written by a woman who hasn’t a thread of decency, moral principles or ounce of humanity.  The fact is that this was a tragic story and a tragic loss to both Stephen Gatleys family and his fans.  For this evil beast to argue that his death was not natural – despite medical science proving it was – is nothing short of disgraceful and attached with it a huge amount of shame.

There is one thing which I hope does come out of the rage and sense of anger that comes from both myself and the general public who read the article published by Moir.  This being that she is deeply sorry and regrets what she wrote, and accepts that she had no right to comment, publish and self destruct herself into looking uneducated and an evil human being.

This serious issue should be debated at the G20 and if I was in power, this would be straight in a House of Lords vote to be passed through as law.  It is the serious issue of who’s job is it to make the tea at work? 

Ok, a tad extreme maybe, but this debate ignited when a new apprentice began working in an office.  Should it be solely down to them to be responsible for providing refreshments to the rest of the workforce? That is the killer debate question?  If yes, then I wish you the best of luck when you end up at the Hague.

Somehow the conversation was steered towards ‘tea making duties’ and how this was one of their responsibilities.  Shocked and appalled at this 19^th century attitude of a colleague I wasn’t happy, this had turned into a debacle.  Now I’m not being funny, but anyone with a remote sense of decency and common courtesy should not rely on someone to make drinks for them.  Losing the will to live and shocked at how this had even become an issue, I was thinking that this isn’t a day and age of Queen Victoria on the thrown.  As harsh as it sounds, an apprentice they maybe; however if they were hired to make a tea, then they would have either taken up a tea apprenticeship at PG Tips or graduated from a school of excellence for butlers!   

A golden rule at the workplace is that everyone mucks in, no one from the chief exec, to the line manager or the apprentice is above anyone else when it comes to domestic chores.  Everyone mucks in.  If the cups need washing, it is the responsibility of everyone and anyone to get the rubber gloves on and wash them when they get the chance, no excuses.  If the tea bag supply is gone, then someone buys some until everyone has bought some and everyone ‘does their fair share’.  Over time it all balances out and everyone does their fair share.  The key word here being – ‘Fair share’.  This is polite, courteous and the right way. 

In terms of this hilarious one sided argument it was a landslide victory in the favour of being courteous.   The opinion of the many others agreed, this is the right way.  If you disagree with my ‘tea making in the workplace policy’ then I’ll be more happy to argue with you.  I may not be a religious man, however don’t mess with my tea making policy!

At the end of the day if you want a drink – for one moment remove that oven chip stuck on your shoulder, forget about your hierarchy, sense of high importance and get off your backside and bloody make one, oh and don’t forget to ask anyone if they want one too! 

I don’t drink tea or coffee.

I often think this of being a handicap, however on reflection I am a 22 year old who is pretty much a few years ahead of myself in terms of my job, career and what I want to be doing with my life, so I guess if anything my personality must make the right impression on people. 

However sometimes I wonder if being like this is too much hard work, I should be mister boring and agree with everyone, be a yes man and up everyone’s backside kissing some butt.  That wouldn’t be interesting though.  I and many others want to live our lives and be ourselves, it should be encouraged.  I want to be able to sit in a retirement home when my kids have had enough of me and tell interesting stories to the other unfortunate buggers who share my castle.  Not sit by the window counting cars having led the boring, average life.

Least to say, I come with controversy – that is me, opinionated and non-politically correct approach.  I understand some people detest this trait, however the more switched on person and others who appreciate the truthful down-to-earth, tell-it-how-it-is approach; is why I have some of the best friends around – simply because of this. 

I wear my heart on my sleeve and give things one hundred and ten per cent.  Maybe people secretly are grateful for that because they always know where they stand with me – i’ll tell you straight up, and give you the honest opinion, even when I should maybe be more conservative and non judgemental.  This is not to say I don’t deserve a slap on the wrist every now and again – and put in my place, but who doesn’t?

Things would be a lot simpler if people didn’t take themselves so seriously, could have a laugh (often at themselves) and take things on the chin.  The art of sarcasam is often looked upon by people as the lowest form of wit, however it is the finest form of humour – ask any award winning comedy writer, sitcom script team and stand up.  Sarcasam works – simple as.  People who don’t understand it or don’t find it funny have probably been raised by parents who watch Countryfile – and to them I say don’t forget its moved to Sunday evenings now!  Oh and I’d rather talk to a brick wall whilst chewing my own arm off!

So after my personality analysis here, try it yourself would you want your personality different?  Answers on a postcard if you think I should try being different for a week for a little social experiment (or just comment below).

Now my philosophy on life is rather simple. I don’t need to write some fancy novel which uses as much paper as the New Forest and bores people silly, providing subject matter in a paperback which can be placed firmly on the log fire!

I am a firm believer that what doesn’t knock you down in life makes you twice as strong. It is true. I may appear to have celery legs, have a haircut like North Korea and at times look like surfer of the year, but I can speak from experience and I am an expert with a first class honours. I have more t-shirts in my collection than most may think and it makes me who I am today. Simply by following my philosophy on life.

Turning this philosophy into a metaphor my life is very much like Manchester United. They may lose a couple of league matches on the bounce, but they always make sure they win the title. How? Well defeat happens, it can’t be eradicated. Yet the sign of a true champion is firmly displayed by how you deal with it. Life isn’t a game of football. You are quite right. It is however just like a football season. We all have different aims whether it be promotion or starving relegation, we occasionally make the play offs and do things by the skin of our teeth. There are people in this world who are Premier League and others who simply play in the Conference. Some punch above their weight, whilst other big names find themselves in the bottom divisions.

Our lives are very much like a football season, we each have different hopes and dreams, different trophies for the different parts of our lives. And, just like a football season we all suffer disappointment and success, in sometimes more unequal patterns than others. There are Wembley moments, times when you lose three nil away to West Ham on a miserable Tuesday night and times when you feel like you can beat anyone.

I’ll finish will a Jerry Springer moment (who isn’t a fan of the big man and his security friend Steve Wilkos?) concluding with my final thought. And, to make this metaphor complete, football fans will know this when they say the league table never lies, however I add to my logic that even if you lose the cup final make sure you enjoy the road to wembley!

Hopefully this proves to the unnamed blogger that I can vary my style and I’ve passed your entrance examination. My crown of being the king of metaphors should still be intact. However I am pretty sure that the world will continue to annoy me, so much so that I’ll be able to return to my normal standard next time.

Yes it’s that time of year when we feel all European and we get to see how our neighbours attempt to sing. They can’t. In fact this contest alone is another reason why the UK should break away from this wretched continent. It is too much trouble. I’m sure it causes many headaches at Westminster with the PM thinking – “oh bugger, we’ve got to send someone to go and sing in that bloody contest again!”

As a specialty this year the people who run this god for saken event – notably they dress with baggy trousers and have a giant red nose with size 20 shoes, answering to the name of ‘coco’ – they have chosen to host the event in Russia. This is a country which is not even in Europe!

Why the UK actually bother sending anyone over to sing in this awkwardness is beyond common sense. Even if we had the greatest singer, belting out one of the greatest songs of all time – we would still not win. Instead they expect you to sit through three hours which are potentially the worst of your entire life. Other activities on a par with this include, counting grains of sugar, watching paint dry and attempting to work out how many different phone numbers are in the Yellow Pages.

The fact that half of the nations competing have as much history as the loaf of bread I picked up from the shops this morning – doesn’t add any interest. I’m sure the people of Azerbaijan are really hooked to the one television set actually within the countries border control! In fact most of the nations seem to have been ‘made up’ on the morning of the actual contest – which adds further comedic charm to this charade. Therefore I think that the UK should disband into regions just so we can twist the knife with the voting. Yes this is the part of the show at the end of the night where all the former Yugoslavian nations lick each other’s backsides – despite shooting each other’s head off just a decade ago!

I’m really not sure why they bother – the contest should be renamed the European popularity contest hosted by two morons with speech impediments. Forget about the singing – cut to the voting so everyone can go home feeling pleased that at least the people of Malta love them – and importantly Match Of The Day can stay on BBC ONE!

The first thing I would buy however – is a public car park. Simply buy yourself a plot of land in the right area and you will be purchasing a gold mine. There seems to be more cars than people in this country wanting to park their vehicles, and so you will be almost doubling your lotto win!

Secondly I would then buy a set of public toilets at a busy railway station. They charge you a whopping thirty pence to spend a penny nowadays (that does make sense) and so judging by how many people go through say – London Euston on an annual basis – again, you will be laughing your way to the bank.

Finally I would purchase Loch Ness. A hotspot full of idiotic American and Japanese tourists – who clutter up the Scottish countryside thinking they will see old nessey. Merchandising alone for the Loch Ness monster must be worth a decent sum and so I believe with this business sense if I did somehow find that winning ticket I would be onto a real winner!

Other animals from the kingdom have a purpose.  Most are part of what we call the food chain (not suggesting for a moment we should eat dog) – however when we drive past a field of cows, we know they are there so we can either shoot them for a nice beef wellington or I’ll be wearing them on my feet maybe to a wedding.  The same happens with sheep, pigs and chickens.  There is always the possibility that they will end up in my life one day or another – either through buying a pair of woollen gloves to visiting the kernel at KFC. 

Dogs however are pretty much redundant in the natural world.  A man’s best friend?  No – more like a charity case.  We decide to look after dogs because we feel sorry for them not having a role within the animal world.  They manage to somehow get the sympathy vote – as do cats.  Despite costing a small fortune to purchase they are even more expensive to maintain through food than a space shuttle.  Then there is the effort of taking them for pointless walks (buy a treadmill!) – and the only way they thank you is by either slobbering all over you – licking you like a chumpa chump – or by going to the toilet on your front lawn (not so bad if it happens to do its business on the neighbours!).

Not content with being useless, ugly and smelling like a sewer – dogs have the unwelcome characteristic of being annoying in both terms of actually being themselves and even more so – in how they affect other people.  I will say it – usually women.  For some reason they think dogs are cute and a substitute for babies – they aren’t.  In fact the only thing a dog does achieve is make them act like THEY are mildly insane, losing the plot and confirming they will be soon always be on the opposite side of the room to me!

It is quite pathetic to see a woman pining over a puppy.  Get a life and get a grip for goodness sake!  In fact I feel quite sorry for the puppy to have such an irritating thing fussing over them.  In fact when it does happen I am actually embarrassed to be human.  I therefore feel the duty to apologise on behalf of these idiotic humans who drool over dogs – for having to put up with such ignorant people who really should have a word with themselves or seek some sort of medical attention!

Parliament is a clown college.  I’m actually seriously thinking of applying for permanent residency in Zimbabwe.  It all boils down to laziness, selfishness and people over valuing themselves.  Government officials are not only guilty of this – in fact you and I communicate with these sort of people every day.They need to wake up and be rescued from the insanity of believing they are more important – than actually doing a proper days work!

I have a strong opinion that no matter what your job is and or responsibilities are – no one is worth over a £30,000 per annum salary.  This country survives on the people who earn peanuts, give there all for the job for what is little financial gain.  It makes me sick that politicians and public sector workers have been raping the country for years so they can live a luxury lifestyle kicking the tax payer in the goolies so they can have a clean swimming pool.  I am ashamed to be British.  What we once had was an enormous amount of pride in our work ethic.  It has now disintegrated into disgrace! 

And so there are a growing number of people who I would have no hesitation of poking their eyes out with a cocktail stick, then roll them in some old carpet and throw them down some stairs.  The majority of them read the Daily Mail, ride horses, watch Countryfile, have parents who were headteachers, and feel the need to suffocate us with two cars.  Yet these people have never ever done a decent hard day’s work in their lives – coasting along – despite earning money in the same scale region that was required to build Milton Keynes.