Sunday, 26 October 2008

Things I Miss From Norfolk: Part One.*

Watching crap football in the oldest, coldest football stand in England. It's got a blue plaque and everything. Drinking soup, escaping to the bar to get a warm, listening to lunatics convinced that this was the worst team in fifty years. It was so cold. Hardly surprising as the ground was about fifty feet from the North Sea. It was so cold.

* Not the improbably large-breasted women that all look very similar, oddly enough.

Saturday, 18 October 2008

Friday, 17 October 2008


Should I renew my membership, or not?

I don't really mind paying a hundred quid or so to an organization that is actually useful and represents pharmacists. It's quite a novel concept, and certainly something that the quack-loving cowardly brown-nosers in Lambeth could learn from.

So, a hundred quid a year (or about 240,000,000 Kiwi dollars), paid out of some sort of sense of solidarity. Sounds like a bargain to me. I should probably pay it. Everyone should.

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

Targets For The Next Year.

1) Buy house. Went for a look today, found one next door to a Naturopath. I may give that one a miss. Either that, or spend all day standing outside with a megaphone calling him a twat. Then people will say "Look at the mad Irish man, bro".

2) Try and go to the South Island. Apparently they have proper cold weather, and mountains and !!TRAINS!!

3) Get Sky TV, so I can watch the Six Nations without having to rely on the rather shaky

4) See a Kiwi bird.

5) Learn how to pronounce "Aotearoa".

6) Watch every single episode of "Six Feet Under".

Friday, 10 October 2008

Worthless, useless, lazy, money-grubbing shits.

Andrew Gush.

Andrew Gush.

Millionaire. Sold his business. Millionaire. Can't be bothered turning up to his "locums". Millionaire. No formal qualifications in accountancy. Millionaire. Utterly clueless at his job.

I, for one, will be laughing when he loses his pretend "job" as Treasurer of the RPSGB. As celebrations go, it'll be up there with the death of Thatcher. Unfortunately, he'll probably be secure financially. Shame.

This ridiculous, lazy, incompetent little man now receives 5,500 Pounds Sterling for the privilege of being lazy and incompetent

Frankly, I'm disgusted by this. Andrew Gush is so far out of his depth that, if he were a dog, he'd be put down. Andrew Gush is incompetent at his job, and I suggest that he steps down quietly. The "man" is supposed to be a Treasurer, and yet his only solution to a financial problem is to raise taxes. Fantastic stuff.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, Gush, Churton, and the rest of the pseudo-science loving wasters can stick their retention tax up their fucking bollocks (if they had any). I have no interest in the RPSGB. It has done nothing, absolutely nothing for me, apart from threaten and take, take, take money to prop up a rotten system. Fuck the lot of them, the worthless pieces of shit.

Wednesday, 8 October 2008

One from the archives

I have a dream.

In fact, I have had many dreams. For example, the other night I had a dream that a Welsh football player actually managed to score a fucking penalty in a fucking World fucking Cup fucking qualifying match for a change. However, this is not the place to discuss such weird, perverted flights of fancy. Rather, this a place for a serious, heartfelt discussion on the leaders of our profession, why they feel the need to fuck us up at every opportunity, why exactly they need to take so much money off us, and what exactly is the purpose of Jeremy Holmes.

Go and join the PDA

Steve Churton is the President of the RPSGB. Unfortunately, he also works for Boots. When I say "works", I of course mean "is Head of Professional Practice". This is a job title that seems to incorporate the silent acceptance of homeopathy in Boots, as it's "what our customers want". In other words "PROFIT!!! PROFIT!!! LAUGHING ALL THE WAY TO THE BANK, BECAUSE WE ARE WORTHLESS TOOLS WHO HAVE SOLD OUR SOUL TO SATAN!". Mr. Churton seems to think that it is professional to sell homeopathy. Perhaps his brain has exploded under the strain of doing his non-job. God forbid he should ever actually see the kind of shite that Joe Pharmacist has to tolerate in the name of "PROFIT!!! PROFIT!!! LAUGHING ALL THE WAY TO THE BANK, BECAUSE WE ARE WORTHLESS TOOLS WHO HAVE SOLD OUR SOUL TO SATAN!". I've no idea what "work" a Head of Professional Practice does, but I suspect it consists of vast amounts of protocols, jollies, protocols, jollies, and finishing early on a Friday.

Go and join the PDA

Mr Churton has absolutely no concern for the poor bastards that have to work in the Wonderful Whacky World of Retail. This quote sums him up, I think.

“The Society, along with the Company
Chemists’ Association, the National Pharmacy
Association, the Pharmaceutical Services
Negotiating Committee and the Association of
Independent Multiple pharmacies, have recently
agreed to work collaboratively for the benefit of
community pharmacy in England - to ensure
that the opportunities contained in the White
Paper become a reality.”

That's four associations that represent employers. None of them give a shit about employees. They would happily put you out of a job tomorrow, if they could replace you with an untrained technician, or a CCTV camera. These organisations have no interest in what Joe Pharmacist wants, and I include the RPSGB in that.

Go and join the PDA

Monday, 6 October 2008

World's Most Dislikeable Sports Teams.

1) Milton Keynes Dons. A plastic, transplanted, futile abomination. I hope they go out of business.

2) England Rugby team 2001-2003. England, 2003 World Champions. The largest collection of cunts in one place since the Nuremberg trials. Mike Fucking Catt coming on at half-time and kicking the Protectors Of Virtue And Righteousness out of the game. Mike Catt, you bastard. Mike Fucking Catt. It still makes me angry.

3) Straylia cricket, and that chimp-faced arsehole Ricky Punter.

Wednesday, 1 October 2008


For a country that is the third greatest in the world*, the USA does seems to have a fair proportion of amazingly dense idiots. This is, after all, a country that elected Bush The Retarded once. Thankfully, they had the sense not to do it twice.

This is a story about how school governors want creationism taught in schools. Apparently, it's unfair to teach evolution. Apparently, teaching how a bearded sky fairy made humans out of mud is equally valid. There's a fantastic quote from something called Joel Fanti in that article. He has been quoted as saying "If evolution is so slow, why don't we see anything evolving now?"

In the words of the late, great, Bill Hicks, I would like to say to Mr. Fanti.

"Kill yourselves, seriously. You're the ruiner of all things good. Seriously, no, this is not a joke. "There's gonna be a joke coming..." There's no fucking joke coming, you are Satan's spawn, filling the world with bile and garbage, you are fucked and you are fucking us, kill yourselves, it's the only way to save your fucking soul. Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself now."

*Behind Aotearoa and Cymru, obviously.