Just sent this email to the Daily Express. Do you think they’ll answer?

Dear Sir/Madam,The fucking Express

I am writing regarding the Daily Express website, http://www.express.co.uk.
Unfortunately there seems to be an inaccuracy on the site which requires correction urgently which I hope you will see fit to rectify.

You see, when viewing the site in Internet Explorer, the title bar of the browser window reads: “Daily Express: The World’s Greatest Newspaper”. I also note that this appears on the print edition of your newspaper. I just wondered how you acquired the said title.

I’m sure there are some characteristics that qualify the Express for such a grandiose title – after all, you were the first newspaper to publish a daily crossword – however, as a keen newspaper reader; I have not seen a worldwide competition ranking newspapers recently. I must have missed it. Which distinguished panel awarded the Express its title?

Needless to say, I congratulate your newspaper on its title. I’m sure that it was a well judged, objective decision to receive this title, just as your news stories are. Not that it was made up by marketing men in a room who think that someone will read that, and then think:
“Hey, no that’s right, the Express is the best newspaper in the world. No one would get a title like that without due process. Let’s buy the Express.”

Needless to say, I would be grateful if you could correct this inaccuracy as soon as possible as I feel it is inaccurate.

On an additional note, your story on page 3 today about the motherless deer was excellent. I thought there was something in the news about global warming or something, but I’m glad you feel this story has better news value this early into a newspaper. Oh, and page 25: “No, it’s Jesus, not Judas Asparagus” was particularly excellent as well. Very informative.

Yours sincerely,

Mr J Grainger.

essex rage.

October 23, 2006

Saw a bit of rage after the Tottenham-West Ham game on Saturday. I am now using the ‘pinboard’ as a place for these kind of short writings.

————————————-READ HERE—->>>>>>>>

I don’t hate Essex, but I do generally dislike Romford. Some people there are great, but it just seems to attract idiots with the wrong attitudes. This is a reprint of some thoughts on Romford.


One night in Essex…

Through the station’s exit I see my first glance of the familiar sights: the pigeon shit, McDonalds, the pubs and bars and clubs and ah, yes, the cock(y) lads and the skimpily dressed gals. Taking a deep breath of Ford exhaust fumes, I walk down South Street, the main hub of Romford’s nightlife. I stop and look out into the night.
Types of Romfordian youth: the underage major and underage minor. Underage minor is roughly 14-16 and has told her mother she is at a sleepover. These girls are out to salvage their reputation at school and prove they can cut the mustard.
The underage major is your veteran who will have been going out in Romford for years. These girls will usually be loud, brash and will have struck friendships with bouncers due to reasons I wish not to mention. These girls are the benchmark for the underage, they are cool.
Next, the forever teenagers. The ones who haven’t changed since they matured enough to pass underage major, bin their fake IDs and become adults. They work jobs they don’t care about and meet their chums every weekend to drink away their wages, tongue some guy in a club and occasionally get the odd pump up round the back of the Wetherspoons.
These individuals work in the area and just love their nights out down Yates’ and Brannigans. Time & Envy too, which is so classy that a now very famous footballer once swamped its bar before his evolution into the respectable parent and England international he is today. The forever teens are veterans of this scene, and will put their bare flesh out to the chill of the night for as long as it can take.1.jpg
Next up, come the Chavs. These surprisingly cover a wide age range. In Romford, how can you notice who’s Chav and who’s not, when everyone wears the same clothes? Gold chains, polo shirts, tracksuit bottoms, burberry, Nickelson, Hackett. That’s the uniform. Yes, you can be middle aged and be a chav.
We continue our tour of the outgoing youth with the wide boys. These are the commuting bankers, who just can’t let the legend of Romford die. Rather than move on, these lads love to be the big fish in a small pond, and will splash their cash in the high-cost places like Time. They will only go out on the strip and love any excuse to splash out, impressing their mates with the size of their wad. You can speculate yourself as to why they live this way.
And finally, the out-of-placers. People, like myself, who can’t yet find a way out. Luckily, I did in the end, others love it so and wish to stay. An old friend of mine who I knew for years as a youngster has become a Tory councillor for Havering. If he thinks he’ll be able to change Romford, he’s mistaken.
So as night encroaches, the sky begins to crackle and the rain comes in. In most places worldwide, the rain is usually a time where people bring out coats and umbrellas. In Romford however, no-one wears coats, and the girls run from bar to bar in their sodden strappy tops and miniskirts and see through tops and nipples. The blokes walk slowly; they’re too hard for rain and would rather abuse the grunge kids walking past. Occasionally, they will see a big-nosed man and call him Jewish. Yes, that happened to me (I’m not by the way, which made it even weirder).
But after all this, is it still possible to feel warmth towards the creatures of the night?
Romford may be rude, brash, boozy and loud but doesn’t it have some charm? That depends. It’s the only place in the world Thatcher the milk snatcher gets mobbed by adoring fans when visiting its marketplace. It’s a place where an MP can be elected with a huge landslide victory, despite his belief in gun ownership, membership of the Tory’s banned Monday club and despite having links to a fascist youth organisation in Italy.
It’s a place where you can guarantee that there will be cheap, alcohol-pop fuelled women, dancing on poles in bars on the strip, giving it up to all and sundry.
It’s a place where a lad can get stabbed, just for sitting and waiting for a lift home.




Awful headline. Disgraceful.
Today, we draw our attention to a historical archive that’s being run by the National Trust. October 17 has been designated as a day to capture the ordinary. They want everyone’s words, they want people to post as many different daily blogs as possible, as a resource for people in ten years, twenty years, a hundred years etc. Read about it here. Really. It’s actually really fucking interesting. The actual archive is here. Go post yours.

And now, for your reading pleasure is the entry I put into the historical archives…

“Woke up. Got out of bed. Didn’t drag a comb across my head because I’ve just had a haircut and it’s not long enough.

Bit of Johnson rage this morning. Ignore it though, have to help him out later, well late for work so run to the shower and step in. Fecking freezing. What a bar steward. Underground crap, rammed with people, causes lots of people to tut all the time. Lots of people sneeze. I shut off with music and read. Much better.

Went to work. I work for a breast cancer charity, Breast Cancer Care. Do lots of web work, I like to call it ‘Web Monkey’ work, but really it’s just writing content, text, doing images etc. for our website. It helps people reach out to each other and educates about breast cancer. Very good organisation, I actually don’t feel guilty for being a capitalist, profit based, arsehole everyday. I feel I have a bit of social responsibility. I like it. But really I’m just as bad as everyone else, no matter how much I tell them off for things, I’m still playing the system to. There is nothing left, no alternatives, you can only join in with the rape of the natural world.

At lunchtime, I reinforce this by walking down streets and buying things. Well, normally I would, but I’m skint because I forgot to pay my rent. Spent a lot of time thinking about the novel I’m trying to write, listened to music on my MP3 player, then worried phenomenally about how dissatisfied I’ll probably end up on my death bed, when I’ve been to lazy to follow my hopes and dreams. Read about the war in Iraq. Thought how evil George W. Bush is. Thought about whether Tony Blair’s more evil. Thought about national blogging day. Thought about how I’m having to leave work for reasons I shall not mention here, but are not my fault. Went and got a pint in a bar. Liquid lunch.

Thought about how bad it is that we have so many cars. Thought of great literature and music. If anyone bothers to read this, read some Charles Bukowski. Please.

Am now writing in preparation for going home from work. You won’t know what’ll happen then as I’m writing this now. Bus and train home, smoke some cigarettes, cook whatever food I can and then go to the pub to binge drink. You’ll have to guess what’ll happen to the rest of the day.

Maybe I’ll help the Johnson.

My song for today is relevant I think. ‘How Soon Is Now?’ by the Smiths. Even if everyone in the future has never heard of them, the thoughts, the communication… I bet it still rings true:

“You shut your mouth/How can you say?/I go about things the wrong way?/I am human and I need to be loved/Just like everybody else does” “.

What do you think? x, J.

ignorance is bliss.

October 12, 2006

Sometimes I feel like I should be far more active than I should be. I definitely whinge and complain about a great number of things and maybe I don’t always put my money where my mouth is. One day I’ll fix this…

I did discover this (via work, admittedly) the other day and it’s stayed in my mind a bit. Green politics is making leaps and bounds at the moment, or is it?

Does anyone pay attention to Cameron and his band of xenophobes when they talk about green policies (of which, he is still to name any etc. etc.), or do we just nod, agree, and then do nothing? This is the problem with global warming, everyone seems to be in common agreement but there’s no effective party who can push this. The Tories? Never, but it’s nice posturing.

This Apple site is worth checking out – or is it an Apple site at all?apple.jpg
The problem is, no one wants to relate the issue anyway. Sometimes I feel our generation are about acceptance and looking out for number one. The idea of knowledge does not mean motivation or power – myself included. It’s so much easier to do nothing.

Aha! No, look closely, it’s not! Amazing! It’s a brilliant spoof from Greenpeace. I think the design is absolutely outstanding, but not just that, it has a major point too. Just need to get off my arse…

roll the dice.

October 11, 2006

roll ‘em…

It’s a pisser when things don’t work out the way you want them to. The problem with life is, you always get carried away. You kind of assume things will happen and when people let you down you’ve got to take the come down. Then comes the recognition, realisation (oh for fuck’s sake) and there are two things you can do:

  1. Take the shit, keep your head down and don’t whinge
  2. Roll the dice.

See, I think life is just a series of choices. Not good or bad, just choices. There are no answers, only choices. Rolling the dice is when this moment rears its head. You don’t know where it’s going to come from, you don’t know where it will lead, you just hope that the grass can be greener somewhere else. (I wonder how many clichés I can use today?)

So the way I try to think of it, is I just have to change the situation. I may not think it’s fair or anything, but what the fuck does it matter anyway? Decision made. Out of my hands. I just got to take the gamble and roll…

Peace, J.

camera on cameron.

October 3, 2006

RE: http://www.webcameron.org.ukWebCameron - spin at his best
Did you know David Cameron is such a hip young guy that he runs a blog so he can communicate with the public and skip spin? Why not roll on over and check him out whilst he discusses politics and does the washing up? You’ll see how he skips spin and comes direct to you…
Bollocks. It’s spin perfected. No need for the media and staged press calls and pictures of him loving nature in Norway – no need at all. You can now spin direct with WebCameron. The new and improved Tories don’t do policies. Instead, why not film a blatantly staged scenario (domesticated Dave) to show just how normal he is. Why not outspin Blair, if that’s possible?
I’m afraid Dave, if you want this to wash (pun not intended) you’ve got to think.
Is anyone else concerned that as yet, Cameron is yet to advance any policies – only soundbites like the infamous ‘hug a hoodie’ routine? Maybe the problem is that I’m too cynical. Maybe the years of Blair’s bullshit has led me to think there’s always a hidden motivation, that there’s always spin.
Unfortunately, until a politician stands up, advances policies and really critiques how this country needs to improve in the next few years, I’m afraid I probably won’t take them seriously.
Are we seriously expected to see a prospective leader, pretending to do the washing up (note he’s holding E-cover to prove just how ‘green’ he is) and asking his kids to be quiet, whilst he tries to talk about how the country should be run – and not think this is spin?
Methinks good ol’ Dave will just be another soundbite PM, and one backed up by a Eurosceptic, xenophobic, selfish party who’s only concern is how much of their pay packet they’ll get to keep.