Monsters!

There is some primeval fear that we humans have about beasts that hide in the dark. It is easy to see where the fear came from in days gone by. In past times we, too, were part of a menu for something!

All we had to go on in those days were the terrible stories of how a hideous beast ran rampant through the camp, killing and maiming until it took off some hapless victim! We were all enthralled and horrified on equal measures when these stories were told around the camp fires. 

We now know about animals in the wild and we know what is a danger to us (here in Britain this is virtually nothing!) But we still like to believe in the monsters that lurk in the dark, from vampires to yetis.

When we are children the world is a big scary place where monsters hide everywhere, just waiting to jump out at you. Some live under the bed, some in wardrobes. For me it was at the top of the stairs and in the cellar! If I'm honest I still don't like going into cellars, but I no longer have a problem with the top of the stairs. I think the fear of monsters in children is a healthy thing, it helps with their imagination and development and it keeps them away from danger (the bogeyman will get you!)

But there are also monsters in real life too; many people who still live by and from large rivers around the world know of some of the strange things that lurk under the water waiting for some poor unsuspecting fisherman. The TV programme, 'River Monsters' shows some of these fish, and I, for one, wouldn't be happy taking a bath in any river where they swam. Although in the Amazon there is a tiny fish that waits for you to urinate while you are standing in the water; it then follows the scent of the urine and swims up the urethra and releases its barbs so it can't be pulled back out! I thought this was an urban myth until recently, but it unfortunately seems to be true! I think I would rather be eaten by a shark!

I have written before about vampires and werewolves etc., so you can read previous blogs about them. But what about yetis? Well, it seems that they too are real! They are not large men type creatures but something just as amazing; they are bears, polar bears! Well, they are polar bears that have mated with brown bears. This is known to happen where the sea meets woodland, but they are related to the first type of bears: in fact their DNA, when tested, shows a match not with modern bears but with bears long thought to be extinct.

The footprints that have been found are those of a bear where they have "double footed", that is where the back foot lands in the print the front foot made. This for me is all very fascinating, I do love a good monster hunt!

When I was a young boy I had (and still have) a fascination for reptiles; snakes are my real love. I have kept many types of snakes over the years but, alas, my wife is terrified of these beautiful creatures, so, with the exception of one garter snake, I no longer keep them.

Once, a local farmer, fed up with people walking through his fields and ruining his crops put up a notice in the field saying, BEWARE POISIONOUS SNAKES IN THIS FIELD. KEEP OUT! 

This, he was sure, would keep away any unwanted feet from trampling all over his fields. But as a ten year old boy, when I saw the notice, it read to me as, WOW! THERE'S SNAKES IN THIS FIELD! YOU MUST COME IN AND HUNT FOR THEM! AND BRING AS MANY FRIENDS AS YOU CAN FIND IF THEY DARE COME ALONG! Needless to say that the whole field was over run with young lads snake hunting!

We also have the Loch Ness Monster here in Britain (Scotland). But it obviously doesn't exist. As with most of these myths, there's a brief mention of something hundreds of years ago, then nothing, until some idiot turns up with a dodgy photo, then the beast is seen all the time. There are people with sonar patrolling the loch day and night but they haven't seen anything yet. There was the photo where they thought they had seen a dinosaur-type creature, but it turned out to be a log! Think about it - if there was something there, it would live at extreme depths, so it couldn't swim to the surface for a look around, as the change in pressure would kill it. Also there would have to be more than one of them for the sightings to keep on coming. And what about when they die - why don't they float to the surface?

There are though giant squid in the oceans though, that have attacked submarines. Many times when subs are taken into dry dock for repairs there are gouge marks on them that match up to those of the the beaks of a squid. Giant squid have also been trawled up, and washed up on beaches.

There have also been sightings of a beast that lives on Bodmin moor, which they think might be a jaguar. This could be true as there are lots of idiots who get "exotic" pets to show off to their friends only to find that the cuddly little kittens and puppies turn out to grow into big killing machines. So they either shoot them or release them; this could explain the sightings. But all the sheep that have been killed by an unknown beast in the area have been killed by dogs. The way a cat slaughters and a dogs slaughters are easy to distinguish if you know about these things (so I'm told).

But there are still real monsters in the world, nevertheless, and the ones you must fear the most wear suits! They walk among you, pretending to have your interests at heart, only to wreak havoc on your lives. They may own your finances, energy and ultimately your freedom! You, to them are just a statistic a number on a screen to be manipulated into profit. Keep away from these monsters at all costs!

Inaccurate Histories: Art!

Professor Noah Ideas of North Dewsbury university has just been working out in the field, but the community order has now expired, so he's back at his desk.

His new research has turned the whole of the art world on its head! The old ideas of genius painters have been blown out of the water.

“Take Leonardo for example,” the professor explains, “there was never a painter called Leonardo! There were two young painters called Lee and Ardo; they were spray painters spraying horse drawn carts. They worked for a firm called Dan Vinci, and used a donkey, a plate of beans, and paint-filled suppositories to achieve a fine finish on the carts. 

The two lads wanted to branch out on their own, so they set up a business sign-painting, and were commissioned to paint a local land owner's daughter, known locally as "moaning Lisa" because of her constant moaning. She complained time and time again that the lads couldn't capture her true inner beauty until Lee, remembering the trick with the donkey, fed her a plate of beans. The Mona Lisa enigmatic smile is nothing more than trapped wind!” explains the Professor. The lads finally became bored with the art world and devoted the rest of their lives trying to invent helicopters!

Meanwhile two of Lee and Ardo's competitors, Michael and Angelo were going from strength to strength. They were lovers, and Angelo had created a statue of Michael and named it after his lover. Michael, although flattered, was upset by the size of the penis on the bronze, saying that his lover could have been more generous with the size! Angelo thought that he had been more than generous already, so they changed the name of the bronze to that of a previous lover, David Ickle!

They were also famous for their spectacular graffiti, one night they sneaked into the local pubic toilets, known as the Cistern Chapels, and painted the ceiling!

“But”, the professor added with a note of caution, “There was never an Italian artist known as Botticelli. The myth about the tortured genius who murdered and cheated his way through life was created by the art industry to move on a few old paintings.” A man in a pub had explained to the professor that Botticelli is actually a mould that grows on jam and other preserves, either that or it's a chain of ice cream parlours, he couldn't remember which!

Meanwhile, over in France, there was a man who had set up a business selling a new concept known as 'painting by numbers', but all was not going well. One Maurice Net, known as Mo Net to his friends, had sold his idea to quite a few people, but, without training, the paintings didn't resemble the picture on the box that they were trying to imitate, so they sent the paintings back.

Mo was at first baffled by just what to do with all these daubings, but one day he noticed that from far away they could pass for some sort of art, so he sold them on, saying that they were an impression of a water lily etc., and not the real thing, and the idea caught on and became known as impressionism.

Even one of Britain's most famous artists comes under the scrutiny of the professor.

John Constable couldn't think up names for his art and his most famous piece was actually called, 'A cart stuck in some water by a mill' but at his first big showing when he was asked about the title of the piece he noticed his best friend Wayne Dodson chatting up a girl in the corner of the room. Constable shouted to his friend, “Hey, Wayne!” and people thought this was the title of the painting.

The professor said that Constable still thought that the original title of, 'A cart stuck in some water by a mill' was the better title right up until his death in 1973. (Constable died while eating a gob-stopper and watching Suzie Quattro singing 'Devil Gate Drive' - her gyrating caused him to choke! He was nearly two hundred years old at the time)

And finally the professor says that he is about to reveal some news about a current famous artist that will shatter the whole of the art world. He says, “I can't say much at this moment in time because, like all my work, I prefer to thoroughly check out the facts before I publish. But I will say that the news of the identity of a famous artist is drawn into dispute. All I'm saying for now is, has anyone ever seen Damien Hirst and the former racing driver Damien Hill in the same room? I think not, and don't you think it's more than strange that they have the same Christian name?”

Of course, as with all the professor's previous work, people will scoff, saying that this is just total nonsense and it is written by an imbecile desperate for attention, but the professor says he has proof, “It's all there on the internet” he adds.

The Meaning of Life?

I would, of course, be a very rich man if I knew the answer to the above title. But things that are happening in my life at the moment are giving me cause to think more about this conundrum.

I watched a TV programme today about the second world war and, more specifically, Dunkirk. Which, if you don't know, is where the British propaganda machine turned a total disaster into a victory.

Wars are a result of politics. I wish these problems could be sorted out by sending politicians out to fight each other, and I also wish that where there is famine, the leaders also starved, until the problem had been solved: if they too suffered the same as the people they inflict their stupidities on, I'm sure some of the world's problems would be resolved a lot sooner.

Today, as I watched this TV programme, an old man, the type no one would give a second glance to at a bus stop, told his story. He was small and slightly built, but a giant of courage and dignity. He told of his friends who stood by him as they fought for their lives. He fought back tears as he relived the nightmare of watching some of these comrades, young men fresh into adulthood, die.

He told of the happiness he felt when he married his childhood sweetheart just before he was sent away to France to face possible death. The thought of his young love at home helped him through his bleak times, but he worried that she might forget him and move on with her life. When he finally made it home. years after leaving, he walked unannounced to the telephone exchange where his young love worked. Still racked with fear of rejection, and that she would no longer love him the way she did. He walked into the exchange and stood in front of his wife and with tears in his eyes held out his arms. Within a heartbeat his fears disappeared as his wife held him and they both wept. He told this story reliving every second, every pain and finally he broke down as he spoke of his true love.

“It was as if I had lost something, something so dear, so important. It was as if I had lost something with which my life depended, and then I had found it again, it was there in my arms. I had travelled through hell and found heaven.”

This had me thinking about things which we take for granted. Last night, my wife and I chatted about this programme as it had an effect on me because of things that are happening within my family at the moment. I told her how strange it is that an inanimate object of no intrinsic value to anyone can, to us become priceless.

My wife's father lived in York and we would visit him once a week and take him shopping, then go for a pub lunch. He was a true gent and a true old-style Yorkshireman. He would not go out without his flat cap. This is a hat that was worn by lots of working-class Yorkshire men in days gone by. He could never remember where he had put his cap, and would spend time retracing his footsteps looking for it when we took him out.

I can still see him now in my mind walking around the supermarket linking arms with my wife looking totally uninterested in the shopping. He was a big man and you could see his cap bobbing up and down the aisles as he walked.

My wife's father died a few years ago now, strangely just a few months after my father died. But in my office hangs his flat cap, waiting for him to find it and put it on to go on our shopping trips. My father was a joiner a carpenter and a good one at that. Before he died he asked that my son, Lee should take his tools, because he said, “I know you will look after them”. To my father his tools summed up his identity, he was Peter Walsh the joiner. When he died, I called to my mother's, to fulfil his wish and pick up his tools, and we all cried as I carried his toolbox out as it was so symbolic as if I were carrying his coffin once again.

But through all the sadness and bile that we have to put up with in life there is also happiness. I watch my beautiful granddaughter play, while her parents talk of the future plans with joy and warmth. I am very fortunate to live a good life, I have what I need which, fortunately for me, is not that much really. I'm healthy, which is the most important thing, trust me.

I am able to write and speak out against things I feel are unjust, although there is no such thing as a totally free state but this does not stop me from saying what I feel I have a right to say!

And I have all this because of the man on the documentary, and because of men like my father and my wife's father.

The meaning of life is to find your own happiness whatever that may be. Then realise what you have and appreciate it and enjoy it. But remember, as you chase wealth and fortune, that, like my wife's father's flat cap, even the most worthless piece of cloth can become priceless, once you know the story behind it!

Rude Mothers, Stressed Grandparents and Happy Children!

Every Sunday evening, our beautiful little granddaughter, Harleigh, sleeps over at our house. My son works away most of the time with his job and Monday is one of the days when Kim, his partner, works. So my wife and I get to spend precious time with little Harleigh.

This week we decided to take her to a community play scheme which my son had mentioned to us. On arrival, we were unsure who we were to pay or what the set up was. We had no need to worry, as we were welcomed in, and not even charged to enter.

The room was huge, and part of our local football and rugby stadium. There were huge slides, mats, swings, balls and many other child-friendly objects. The noise of happy and boisterous children reverberated from every solid object. The words, “get down, play nice, don't put that in your mouth!” could be heard from lots of tired and distraught parents and grandparents. Most of the children that were there, like Harleigh, with their grandparents. Most of whom seemed to be living a second childhood themselves.

We found an area that had a big sign above it saying, 'UNDER THREES ONLY!' so we found a chair and my wife took Harleigh in to play while I went to the café for refreshments. My granddaughter is, it's fair to say not like her father (my son) was at her age. Lee was quite timid and quiet and wouldn't leave our side at that age, while Harleigh is fearless. She is so petite, but she loves to play and is not perturbed by noise or bigger children. It looked as if her head would explode with the excitement of it all. She didn't know what to play with first.

As she played, my wife sat with her, throwing balls and chasing her around a matted area, I looked around the room at the other parents, etc. It was evident that there were people from all walks of life and cultures, chatting and swapping child stories. I couldn't help but think how wonderful this project was. The only thing that spoiled it for me was two idiot women (girls) who talked loudly in West Indian Creole, even though they were third or fourth generation. They refereed to everyone, even their children, as 'Blood Clarts' which is a phrase I've not heard since the seventies. They ordered some food, and when the young lad brought them their order he asked if they would like any sauces with their meal, and one of them shut her eyes, lifted up her nose and waved him away without a word. Her child later peed on one of the mats; she went over to the same young man and shouted, “There's piss on the mat! Clean it!” then both her and her friend laughed as he cleaned it up, remarking that he had no dignity! This is of course a very strange thing for them to say as they obviously had no concept of the word, either.

I was amused to see two super-heroes arguing over their identities. One, a seven-year-old, announced that he was Batman, so therefore his friend would be Robin. His friend was having none of it, regarding Robin as an inferior super hero, to which his friend pointed out that he was two months older then him and that made him the senior partner which of course everyone knows is Batman. 

They ran off, but when they returned later the dispute seemed to have been cleared up as Robin had become Batman and Batman had become Superman. They didn't wear their coats around their necks like capes as I used to do at their age though. So when it was my turn to go in the padded pen with Harleigh I decided to remedy this and fastened my coat around my neck and became Baboman! All was going well until I climbed to the top of a platform with Harleigh under my arm, the way us super-hero types do. At the top was an apparatus that looked like an old fashioned washing mangle the type that squeezed any water from your garments. This one was fully padded and had a gap in the middle, which I passed Harleigh through without the slightest hint of trouble. 

This is where I became unstuck, as I foolishly followed her. It was obviously designed for a three year old, and the only thing about me that was three years old was my socks. Harleigh's weight can be measured in pounds, where as I'm six foot two and weigh about fourteen stone, this would not be a pretty sight. I got my head through with a little trouble and my shoulders just about went through, but then everything siezed up. I was like the mother of all turds down a U bend! I looked down at people pointing at me my wife was sitting with her hands over her face and had even turned away, just in case the hands weren't sufficient enough to block out the sight of my predicament. Then I noticed Harleigh running for one of the huge slides, and in fear I heaved up and pushed, and like a mouse giving birth to a camel I fell to the floor. But it was too late! Fearless Harleigh had already disappeared down the slide! I ran to the slide only to see an incredibly happy child beaming with defiance smiling at the bottom. It was then that I was asked to leave the area as I slid down the slide to the sound of the plastic slide cracking under my weight. As I left, I passed another grandfather who had a sheepish look on his face. I could tell that he, too, was banished from the play area, and we smiled, both acknowledging the pain of our banishments.

Harleigh meanwhile was happily running around enjoying herself instead of showing any solidarity with my predicament and walking out in disgust. The child of one of the rude women tried to take the dummy (pacifier) from Harleigh's mouth, and though she is quite small she is made of stern stuff and put the kid on his arse! I looked on with pride as she looked over, thinking she would be in trouble. She squashed up her little nose and shrugged her little shoulders and gave us a wave with the prettiest and cutest grin that a human can ever witness. This is her way of saying how the hell can you be mad with this?

It was soon time to go, so we said good bye to all our new friends, except for Batman and Superman who had fallen out and were now fighting in the corner of the play gym. I asked my new friend, who had been barred from the slide with me, if he was coming back next week with his grand kids but he couldn't as he was a doctor working shifts at the local hospital. But I shall be back and I shall have a slide for him because I am, 'Baboman!'

PS: My wife says that I'm not 'Baboman', but a stupid old git that needs to grow up!

Aliens Have Landed!

The above title is true; I have been told it many times by many people, ranging from my closest and oldest friend, to the lizard guru David Icke. And they have proof... they've seen it for themselves! That's it, that's the proof.

First, let's just get rid of the David Icke aspect of this blog. He's a man that has had, or is still having, some form of mental illness and has found that he has spawned an industry that pays him very well. Lots of his so- called devotees believe his twelve foot reptilians that rule the world are just a metaphor for Jews. So half of his audience are right-wing racist bigots and the other half have mental health issues. I have read some of his literature and seen his followers being interviewed, and the words "mad" and "box of frogs" spring to mind!

Then there are the people like my friend who, with others, witnessed a UFO at close quarters before it sped off. I know most of the other people he was with that night and I haven't spoken to them about this as it was over thirty odd years ago now, but my friend truly believes it was a UFO. He has also developed conspiracy-itis, believing that there's a government cover up etc. He tells me that I'm blinded by my own ignorance and that one day it will all be proven to me. Is it me, or is this beginning to sound like a religion?

Firstly, I do believe that he saw something - of that, there's no doubt. Secondly, this event didn't happen in the desert, it happened on a council estate in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, where at least another 4,000 people live at close quarters. None of them, including me, who was in the area at the time saw this ship hovering above us.

The local news papers and radio and TV didn't mention it (it's the government keeping them quiet). I have spoken to people that lived on the same street the night this happened. They didn't see it. This is the part that I'm afraid always upsets my friend; he had been drinking, a lot. My bet is that it was a helicopter, as police helicopters are not that uncommon around those parts. I know it sounds mundane but the truth is usually mundane. But this encounter, like religious encounters for others, has become an all-consuming belief for my friend. He trawls the internet looking for like-minded people, reads books on it, and buys DVD's on the subject; I even buy him them for Christmas presents. He tells me that I should listen to him, as he knows a lot about this subject. This I don't dispute, but there are lots of people with belief systems that know a lot about them, and I don't believe them either.

Having said all this, it would be arrogant and naïve to believe that life only exists here on Earth. There has to be life somewhere, but who's to say that we are not the most intelligent life? OK that's maybe going too far but the UFO phenomenon didn't really take off (see what I did?) until we had powered flight. The aliens that are seen quite a lot in American deserts are the same ones that were first seen in Hollywood 'B' movies of the fifties.

I know that the American government created part of the myth to throw the Russians off track when they were developing the stealth bombers. This is where the Roswell connection comes in. And as for the people being probed... you wish!

Other beliefs and industries have developed as part of this movement. The most worrying one for me is the 'Indigo Children' who are put here to help humans develop. These are kids that are being set up for lots of psychological and emotional issues in the future by over zealous and stupid parents.

If aliens had the technology to travel at least two hundred light years to reach us they would have to be very clever indeed. Such high intellect would have studied Earth and its inhabitants. We have sent out probes (not the anal type) and information into space about us and out planet; they would have made contact way before they arrive here, as humans have an awful habit of killing things that frighten them. And don't tell me that a spaceship wouldn't be picked up by some neurotic government's radar or such. Anything that looks a threat flying through any country's airspace will be greeted by fighter jets, they wouldn't be able to keep it quiet.

This is the part that irritates most Ufologists - governments do have departments that try to communicate with ET's and so called sightings are investigated (they just keep it quiet, man, they have done autopsies on aliens man!) But they, like me, believe that just because you can't identify it, it doesn't mean it's from outer space!

And just one last thing, to all you ufologists and ghost hunters, please take a leaf out of the trainspotters book and BUY DECENT CAMERA!