My brother has out of the goodness of his heart decided to go on holiday and take me along with him. Now this is the first time I've had a holiday for about five years.
So can someone explain what I do when I reach those golden beaches and sun-kissed seas? I've seen those "Naked in Ibiza" type programmes on telly, and I'm afraid I'm just not the kind of man who wants to drink tequila off drunk/drugged big chested Essex girls who are trying to shag as many men as possible.
And no...this doesn't mean I'm gay, thankyewverymuch.

I thought a good book might be nice.

God Damn I hate insomnia.
No, not the film, or the song, but the whole "laying in bed staring at the ceiling knowing that you have to go to sleep so that when you go to work the next day you won't start killing people for breathing too loudly".
It's one of the bugbears of shift work, how do you shift from Night shifts to Early morning shifts? Well you "simply" stay awake after your last night shift, which incidentally makes you feel crap, but will reset your body clock.
This all falls apart when you have tonnes of stuff to do, lack the willpower to remain awake and have to drive 280 miles the next day.

I have only myself to blame really, I did choose my job, and I do enjoy working nights for the weird deviant jobs that you get in those wee small hours.

Oh and all the stabbing/shooting/bottling you get when alcohol is involved.

I have a plan...Every so often (when work shifts allow) I'll go and find something that really annoys me, and submerge myself in it. Then Blog the results. So coming up soon...The Tate Modern!

I had a nice relaxing nightshift, picking up drunks from kebab shops (why they don't just pass out in their own homes I'll never understand) and making "Maternitaxi" runs across half of London for people who are not going to give birth within the next 16 hours.

This means I've had a nice quiet night with no trouble, which means I get to go home with a skip in my step and a song in my heart.

However, that all went horribly wrong when I went home and saw this on the BBC newsite.

And of course this.

...Can I be first in line to torch a teenager.

...Nine hours later and the gits keep running out of the way too damn fast...

...like trying to swat flies.

Well, here is a moan about something that I am not allowed to do. I'm not allowed to run people over in my job. I could really clean the streets of a lot of stupid people if I was able to do that.
Picture the scene, there I am, driving through the streets of London in big white van, with blue flashing lights, sirens and the word Ambulance written in rather large letters. What would you do? Would you think "Hmm, being run over by that would really hurt, I think I'll wait the 12 nanoseconds that it takes him to drive past before I cross the road". Or would you, as most of the people in my area apparently do, think "Hmm, an Ambulance on his way to an important job, I bet I can run across the road in front of him before he can hit me".
So during the last job, Three people tried to dive under my ambulance. If I was allowed (by government grant or some such) to keep driving and splat them across my windscreen, that would mean three less idiots being allowed to breed tonight.
Oh well, I might get lucky later tonight.

So why am I writing this? I mean it's not as if I'm an American and this is "Therapy" for some form of undisclosed trauma. I'm not a teenager (Thank The Gods!) so this isn't some cry for recognition of the hardships I'm going through. I'm not an egomaniac because I know I can't write, can't spell and throw commas around like confetti...
...So Why?...
...Probably because I absolutely love the idea of Blogs, PhoneBlogs, MoBlogs and all that Jazz. I'm a sucker for Wi-Fi, Broadband and personal reportage that bypasses the Monolithic BBC. But mainly because we live in a world where foreign governments can kill "suspects", where Governments seek to charge you to spy on you and where I couldn't buy a tiny one bedroom flat in a shitty part of London for the cost of a seven bedroom estate in Scotland.
Oh...and I like to moan.

Die Puny Humans: "die puny humans", What can I say...Warren Ellis has a more optimistic view toward people than I do, but even so this is one of the better places that I visit to read things that make me grind my teeth in pure despair.

Simple really, and hardly controversial, except that I live in England and really couldn't care less about showing "pride in my nation" by flying an American flag. Nor do I really care to see "singles in my area" when my area isn't actually Wisconsin.
I started using the Internet many years ago...So many I can't remember, but it was with the Lynx text based browser, Babylon 5 was just starting and no-one warned you about putting your email address in your Newsgroup postings.
Therefore I have about 180 Spam messages a day cluttering up my Inbox, which makes my ability to pick up Email over my Mobile phone pointless, because I spend 36p/min downloading penis extension programmes.

(For the record, I'm more than happy with my penis and it's length, it does it's job, which is to give pleasure...to me at least)

It is the impotence (try www.curemyflacidwilly.com) in which I have no power to seek revenge for these transatlantic scrotes (for it is hard to firebomb an office halfway across the world) which is the main source of my anger...

...So a question to any American who is reading this...When they have a Toll-free number listed...

(a) Does the company pay the phone bill?

(b) How much will it cost them if I ring them from the UK and then leave my phone off the hook?

If the answer to these questions are respectively "Yes" and "Quite a lot" then I may have formed a new line of revenge. Of course I doubt it's that simple.

But I live in hope.