Sunday, August 19, 2012
Levelling the playing field
Thank you for contacting me regarding the issue of same sex marriage.
The Scottish Government is giving careful consideration to all of the points that have been raised and the Government will set out the way forward very soon.
Thank you for contacting me., MSP
In all the excitement of being me and, against all the odds, still being at liberty, I'd quite forgotten that I'd taken the time to vent my spleen at the Scottish Government over inequality in marriage rights.
In fact, I'd rather been put up to it by a circular petition with a pro-forma letter attached. I had at least taken the time to personalise the letter, as you may judge for yourself:
DearMSP,
I am writing to you in your role as a member of the Scottish Government because the Cabinet is currently discussing whether to allow same-sex marriage in Scotland.
The current ban on same-sex marriage is discriminatory, and goes against Scotland's values of equality, fairness and social justice. It is wrong to deny lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people equal rights.
Therefore, I think it's only fair that you also abolish opposite-sex marriage forthwith. That way, everyone's in the same boat. Plus, people will no longer be able to claim family tax benefits, so you'll generate a lot more revenue.
Sincerely yrs, &c
Daniel McKeown
(Unmarried)
Labels: DEMOCRACY, DIPLOMACY, MISDEEDS, WORDS
Sunday, January 01, 2012
It's bad to have a bad uncle
Christmas Eve, and Kianna, my wee little pretty thing of a niece, is explaining to me the pile of presents on the table, bought and gift-wrapped by her mum, my sister
KIANNA: The big one's for you an' the small one's for Uncle Joe...
ME: Just like when Mother Nature was giving out the presents when we were born.
A brief pause
KIANNA: Did you get a big one an' Uncle Joe got a small one?
ME: That's what they say, dearie.
KIANNA: The big one's for you an' the small one's for Uncle Joe...
ME: Just like when Mother Nature was giving out the presents when we were born.
A brief pause
KIANNA: Did you get a big one an' Uncle Joe got a small one?
ME: That's what they say, dearie.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Yin of six, the Yang of nine
The first race of this year was an absolute toughie: a very hilly 10k that knocked hell out of my legs, not to mention my brother.
It wasn't all bad though: at least I was given an auspicious race number at registration.
ME: McKeowns, Daniel and Joseph.
SHE: Right, Daniel, number 69; Joseph, number 70.
ME: Back of the net!
Why so delighted with 69? Why, gentle reader, because of its rotational symmetry, of course. In celebration of this happy fact, I proudly wore my race number upside down.
See?
This confused the registration lady somewhat.
SHE: Er, I think your number's on upside down.
ME: It's worse than you think - I've also got my socks on the wrong feet.
When the results were posted on the noticeboard, I found the bemused organisers had crossed out the number next to my finishing position three times before finally mastering the fact that an upside-down 69 isn't 96.
It wasn't all bad though: at least I was given an auspicious race number at registration.
ME: McKeowns, Daniel and Joseph.
SHE: Right, Daniel, number 69; Joseph, number 70.
ME: Back of the net!
Why so delighted with 69? Why, gentle reader, because of its rotational symmetry, of course. In celebration of this happy fact, I proudly wore my race number upside down.
See?
This confused the registration lady somewhat.
SHE: Er, I think your number's on upside down.
ME: It's worse than you think - I've also got my socks on the wrong feet.
When the results were posted on the noticeboard, I found the bemused organisers had crossed out the number next to my finishing position three times before finally mastering the fact that an upside-down 69 isn't 96.
Labels: MISDEEDS, ROTATIONAL SYMMETRY, SELF IMPROVEMENT
Monday, October 04, 2010
Not big, not clever...
But she did leave herself logged in on the hostel computer.
So we took a few liberties with her profile picture.
Labels: MISDEEDS
Friday, July 16, 2010
Practice what you teach
"Guys, if you're going to stand about swearing can you please bugger off outside?"
***
Best thing is, the students weren't even swearing - they were just struggling a bit with pronouncing the word 'sheet'.
***
Best thing is, the students weren't even swearing - they were just struggling a bit with pronouncing the word 'sheet'.
Labels: MAMMON, MISDEEDS, WORDS
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Not a mornings person
I awoke to the gentle sound of rain on the window and had an idea: With Glyn staying over and Sam Green at home for once, why not run out for a morning game of football?
Of course, we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
As we struggled into our respective kits, Glyn was enthusiastically describing a local council initiative for midnight football matches in Northern Ireland.
"It's about getting youngsters off street corners," he explained.
"Have they done anything about getting your mum off street corners?" I asked. He let this pass.
Sam Green, meanwhile, was worried about our lack of goalie gloves:
"I've got some wicket keeper gloves upstairs but they've got webbed fingers," he said.
I couldn't help myself.
"So's your mum."
Sam also let this pass; we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
***
Disclaimer: my mother is a saint.
Of course, we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
As we struggled into our respective kits, Glyn was enthusiastically describing a local council initiative for midnight football matches in Northern Ireland.
"It's about getting youngsters off street corners," he explained.
"Have they done anything about getting your mum off street corners?" I asked. He let this pass.
Sam Green, meanwhile, was worried about our lack of goalie gloves:
"I've got some wicket keeper gloves upstairs but they've got webbed fingers," he said.
I couldn't help myself.
"So's your mum."
Sam also let this pass; we were all terribly hungover and I'm not a mornings person these days.
***
Disclaimer: my mother is a saint.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
She had it coming...
The best bit of photo editing I've done in a while. Of course, Matt Sherry would never shank a sweet northern rose like Nikki. Never.
Labels: COMRADES, IMAGES, MISDEEDS
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
The author of my own misfortune
OSRIC How is't, Laertes?
LAERTES Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
(Hamlet, Act V, Scene II)
I came along to the coffee shop yesterday to find a few more comments on my Facebook status than usual.
My status read: All my sexual fantasies revolve around violence
It's not the fact that Glyn changed my status when I left his laptop logged in to my Facebook account that cuts, so much as the fact that he changed it to the exact thing I'd told him half an hour previously that I would love to change someone's status to if the opportunity arose.
I don't even feel like avenging myself; I'm just going to sit here and sulk.
LAERTES Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
(Hamlet, Act V, Scene II)
I came along to the coffee shop yesterday to find a few more comments on my Facebook status than usual.
My status read: All my sexual fantasies revolve around violence
It's not the fact that Glyn changed my status when I left his laptop logged in to my Facebook account that cuts, so much as the fact that he changed it to the exact thing I'd told him half an hour previously that I would love to change someone's status to if the opportunity arose.
I don't even feel like avenging myself; I'm just going to sit here and sulk.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Covering
Have you done something to my Facebook status? she demands.
I give her the ice grill. I am, it is true, sitting at the computer she has just vacated. It is also true that she left herself logged in to Facebook. However, I do have some standards.
Do you remember the other day, I reply with some asperity, and I said dicking around with people's passworded computer stuff was no better than rifling their wallet and taking their credit cards?
Yes, she replies, and I remember you then saying you'd do it in a hot second.
My argument is evidently flawed.
Her status, incidentally, reads: Nikki Culley is a buffoon.
I give her the ice grill. I am, it is true, sitting at the computer she has just vacated. It is also true that she left herself logged in to Facebook. However, I do have some standards.
Do you remember the other day, I reply with some asperity, and I said dicking around with people's passworded computer stuff was no better than rifling their wallet and taking their credit cards?
Yes, she replies, and I remember you then saying you'd do it in a hot second.
My argument is evidently flawed.
Her status, incidentally, reads: Nikki Culley is a buffoon.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Weeknight drinking games
I managed to keep myself relatively straight by dint of:
- Having hearty seconds of dinner
- Being the sole arbitrator of the games
Labels: MISDEEDS, SELF IMPROVEMENT
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Fred goes for a duck
It was Monday morning and I wasn't really feeling it. I was cold and tired and I had a subbing exercise to complete on an article about an 84-year-old war hero widower with Parkinson's called Fred who had vanished from his nursing home three days previously.
The exercise: correct the bad English (of which there was much), get the article down to within the word count, then come up with a heading and sub heading for the article.
Our lecturers are big fans of catchy aliteration, so I went with "Parkinson's pensioner ducks out of care home" as my sub heading, scoring additional points for a punning reference to the fugitive's apparent obsession with feeding ducks.
At least, I thought I'd scored points - the morning's lecturer, a doleful walrus of a man, declared that some of us were still suffering from weekend silliness.
"You'd get a letter of complaint from the family at the very least," he said.
"I mean, this gentleman could be dead for all we know."
My eyes slid sideways to Glyn's headline on the adjacent computer: "Fred Could Be Dead."
"I think Glyn might get a firebomb," I ventured.
The exercise: correct the bad English (of which there was much), get the article down to within the word count, then come up with a heading and sub heading for the article.
Our lecturers are big fans of catchy aliteration, so I went with "Parkinson's pensioner ducks out of care home" as my sub heading, scoring additional points for a punning reference to the fugitive's apparent obsession with feeding ducks.
At least, I thought I'd scored points - the morning's lecturer, a doleful walrus of a man, declared that some of us were still suffering from weekend silliness.
"You'd get a letter of complaint from the family at the very least," he said.
"I mean, this gentleman could be dead for all we know."
My eyes slid sideways to Glyn's headline on the adjacent computer: "Fred Could Be Dead."
"I think Glyn might get a firebomb," I ventured.
Labels: COMRADES, MISDEEDS, SELF IMPROVEMENT, WORDS
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Raising money for MacMillan
I've opted for MacMillan as my cause for the Cov half marathon.
People who looked at my sponsorship page, looked at the photo and looked at the caption were unanimous with their response of: "Ooh, that's a bit soon."
Meh.
People who looked at my sponsorship page, looked at the photo and looked at the caption were unanimous with their response of: "Ooh, that's a bit soon."
Meh.
Labels: MISDEEDS, SELF IMPROVEMENT
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Drinky speechy
Tim explains "Drinky speechy."
Other highlights of Russ and El's wedding included me telling the Danish guests to behave themselves in Church ("If you could refrain from breaking the windows, stealing the valuables and raping, killing and setting fire to everyone, that'd be great.") and Pete's lucky shirt:
"Whenever I've worn this to a wedding, the couple have stayed together. Edwin and Karen tested it, but the shirt pulled through in the end."
Ed's face was an absolute picture.
Labels: COMRADES, MISDEEDS, U-TUBE
Saturday, July 04, 2009
It's Russ's stag do today
And to honour the occasion, Tim and I will be wearing commemorative wifebeaters.
More on this noble 4th July tradition
More on this noble 4th July tradition
Labels: COMRADES, IMAGES, MISDEEDS
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Needs must
It was one of those days when I was continually five minutes off the pace. I didn't start getting prepared for football early enough, when I looked for my boots they weren't there, I ended up having to play in tennis shoes and played like a right dolt.
Got home, didn't have time to take a shower because tea needed cooking. Next thing you know, it's five minutes until I'm supposed to meet the dad at the social club and deodorant (shower in a can) is nowhere to be found.
My eyes came to rest on the can of air freshener.
I've done rougher things, but this is my worst in a little while.
Got home, didn't have time to take a shower because tea needed cooking. Next thing you know, it's five minutes until I'm supposed to meet the dad at the social club and deodorant (shower in a can) is nowhere to be found.
My eyes came to rest on the can of air freshener.
I've done rougher things, but this is my worst in a little while.
Labels: MISDEEDS
Friday, March 20, 2009
Speaking ill
The mum makes some observation about the untimely passing of Natasha Richardson; I feel fairly sure that the mum didn't even know who Richardson was until her skiing accident hit the front pages this week, but now she's suddenly the girl next door.
Hmmmm.
Although generally disinclined to join in the ghoulish tongue-wagging, I do wonder aloud how exactly Richardson came to suffer her head injuries.
"She probably hit her head on the ski instructor's pelvis," is Tel's ribald suggestion.
A thousand miles away, deep underground, the devil himself looks momentarily appalled, shakes his head, then continues sharpening his pitchfork.
Hmmmm.
Although generally disinclined to join in the ghoulish tongue-wagging, I do wonder aloud how exactly Richardson came to suffer her head injuries.
"She probably hit her head on the ski instructor's pelvis," is Tel's ribald suggestion.
A thousand miles away, deep underground, the devil himself looks momentarily appalled, shakes his head, then continues sharpening his pitchfork.
Labels: COMRADES, MISDEEDS, WORDS
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Infernal criteria
The grandad has grounds for complaint, or so he thinks.
"I've been taking these bloody pills for ages and the other day I asked the doctor how long I'd have to keep taking them, and he says 'the rest of your life.'"
I digest this.
"That's not that long."
As the grandad mimes he's going to hit me, I wonder exactly what the criteria for damnation are: are our sins judged on quality or quantity?
"I've been taking these bloody pills for ages and the other day I asked the doctor how long I'd have to keep taking them, and he says 'the rest of your life.'"
I digest this.
"That's not that long."
As the grandad mimes he's going to hit me, I wonder exactly what the criteria for damnation are: are our sins judged on quality or quantity?
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Schadenfreudian slip
"Ha ha, some twat's had their car clamped."
"Er, Dan- isn't that Mum's car?"
Now he mentions it, it does look a bit like the mum's car- right down to the identical licence plate. The folly of my gloating is laid bare to me.
"Well I'll be damned."
"Er, Dan- isn't that Mum's car?"
Now he mentions it, it does look a bit like the mum's car- right down to the identical licence plate. The folly of my gloating is laid bare to me.
"Well I'll be damned."
Labels: CLAN, DULLARDS, MISDEEDS
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Catching up on five years worth
One of my reasons for coming back to England was to spend a bit more time with the grandad. He must be thanking his lucky stars.
1. I drove him to hospital for a routine hearing aid check. Told him all the way there that the nurse was going to inject hot resin into his ear canal, which was by no means likely to be the case.
2. On the way home, he asked if I would be "missing anyone particularly this Christmas," whereupon I told him I was gay, drawing a brief bark of laughter from the mum in the back seat.
3. I keep asking him if the shirt he's wearing is the one I got him for Christmas. I got him socks.
4. I connived my way into possession of his car.
***
This last is not really true: the mum phoned up the cheapo insurance company to renew his policy and got a bit of a shock.
"I love this company," she said to me, waiting for someone to pick up the phone at the other end. "They're ever so cheap. Hello? Yes, I'd like to renew the policy for Maurice Court, please. How much?! Well, yes, I realise he's ninety now, but it didn't cost that much last year, and he was legally blind..."
So I became legal guardian of the red Rover.
***
I got a bit of a shock when I went to see him today: I thought he'd been beaten up or had a fall.
Thankfully, what I had initially thought to be caked blood turned out to be chocolate.
1. I drove him to hospital for a routine hearing aid check. Told him all the way there that the nurse was going to inject hot resin into his ear canal, which was by no means likely to be the case.
2. On the way home, he asked if I would be "missing anyone particularly this Christmas," whereupon I told him I was gay, drawing a brief bark of laughter from the mum in the back seat.
3. I keep asking him if the shirt he's wearing is the one I got him for Christmas. I got him socks.
4. I connived my way into possession of his car.
***
This last is not really true: the mum phoned up the cheapo insurance company to renew his policy and got a bit of a shock.
"I love this company," she said to me, waiting for someone to pick up the phone at the other end. "They're ever so cheap. Hello? Yes, I'd like to renew the policy for Maurice Court, please. How much?! Well, yes, I realise he's ninety now, but it didn't cost that much last year, and he was legally blind..."
So I became legal guardian of the red Rover.
***
I got a bit of a shock when I went to see him today: I thought he'd been beaten up or had a fall.
Thankfully, what I had initially thought to be caked blood turned out to be chocolate.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
El Tel
One major plus in my quest to avoid a big Japan hangover is being able to meet up with friends I made in Osaka back in the homeland: I've been in constant touch with Sam from Hirakata, who now works for a recruitment agency in London. Show me the money!
Better still, Real Osaka's very own Leon Townsend-Cartwright is living about two minutes walk from my front door (40 seconds if I go out the back.) He's even met my mum:
"He seemed like a nice lad. What was his name again..? Giles..?"
I give her a piece of my mind for always forgetting people's names, then tell her, once and for all, that his name is Terry.
***
The very next time Leon comes round the house
LEON: Alright Joe, how's it going?
JOE: Alright Tel.
And Tel he has since remained.
Better still, Real Osaka's very own Leon Townsend-Cartwright is living about two minutes walk from my front door (40 seconds if I go out the back.) He's even met my mum:
"He seemed like a nice lad. What was his name again..? Giles..?"
I give her a piece of my mind for always forgetting people's names, then tell her, once and for all, that his name is Terry.
***
The very next time Leon comes round the house
LEON: Alright Joe, how's it going?
JOE: Alright Tel.
And Tel he has since remained.
Labels: CLAN, COMRADES, MISDEEDS
