I know its been a long time coming (much like many of my ex-girlfriends) but here it is, my second post. I graduated six months or so ago now, and I have in that short time learnt that becoming a graduate is the worst thing I could have done. Yes, I have just got my first job out of uni, and have started to earn some money (though not that much), and I am now allowed to complain about anything and everything government related without being told I am student and so until I am no longer a drain on society I don't get to comment on it. But these delights are far outweighed by the fact that now I have got a law degree I am a free legal encyclopedia, that everyone I know is determined to use. Since finishing uni I genuinely think I have been asked to help with legal problems about 20 times. You all need to realize that me having a law degree does not make me a lawyer, it just means I am a semi alcoholic 22 year old who has spent 3 years learning how to commit rape and murder and get away with it. You have been warned.

My cautionary tale this time is about making sure you ask enough of the right questions, on this topic the grandparents were right, to assume genuinely does make an ass of you and me. Imagine a young man out with a group of his friends in a posh London club having a pretty good time, when up comes an attractive woman (she’s not a stunner, but then again this isn’t a fairy tale). They have a chat and a dance, enjoy each others company as you would expect and just as the boy is about to do a Cinderella and go home on the stroke of midnight with his friends, the young lady suggests that he can stay at hers… “This sounds like a good night for all involved, where is lesson to be learned?”, I hear you cry. The young man in question didn’t ask where the bed he had been offered was, and even upon being told Oxford, he naively assumed she meant Oxford Street, or Oxford Circus, not the acclaimed university city. She did not mean a hip part of London, she meant a city 62 miles away, which surprisingly has a 24 hour bus service between London Victoria Coach Station. So, be careful, before you make a decision get all the facts, or you could be left with a choice between staying in the a city you don’t know with a woman you don’t know, or wandering round a city you don’t know on your jack.

Finally I once again treat you to two videos courtesy of the youtubings:

Another one of those nasty racist folks gets their comeuppance.

And a wonderful offering from skittles

Popping My Cherry...

So this bad boy is my first post, and hopefully the first of many, unless someone decides I need to be locked up after they read this... I'll just crack on and hope they don't.

As its the first blog I'm actually going to try to stick to the title and give you a thought, observation and cautionary tale. Starting with a thought, when does banter go too far? There are quite a few references in the media at the moment about "banter" and what people seem to think it is, generally journalists seem to be under the impression that its bullying, with a nicer name. Its not. I love banter, and I'm not a bully, but I love ripping into my mates, and they give a lot back. Yes, to the untrained eye it might look and sound like bullying, but the definition of banter is a joke at someone or somethings expense, it only becomes bullying when it goes to far, and is directly aimed at hurting or upsetting someone. So, I think we should all just calm down about "banter", and just relax a little, there are bigger things to worry about... plus, I'm sitting on a dynamite impression of Kelly Rowland that if I do at the moment is definitely going to get called racist. But its only banter.

At the moment I'm unemployed (woohoo!) so I have a lot of observations to choose from, but I'm going to go with one that's to do with all these claims of racism in sport, namely football. John Terry and Luis Suarez are the two big names in the Premier League accused of racially abusing two of their opponents. Maybe, just maybe, I've over simplified this and you're all going to absolutely hammer me for it, but these guys both play and train with coloured players every day, and have done for the past 20 years, since they starting playing football. I'm just going to put her out there and say, if they were really racist then they probably wouldn't have; 1) started playing a sport that means they will be playing with people of all different ethnicity's and backgrounds everyday and 2) they wouldn't have got a whole decade into their professional career before saying something racially offensive. I'm not taking sides on whether they did or didn't say anything, and if they did they should definitely be punished, but isn't the bigger problem in football that week in week out there are stadiums full of "hardcore" fans singing racist songs at players... Just an observation you understand.

And finally my cautionary tale. This week its on the dangers of alcohol, specifically alcohol that is past its sell by date. On Friday, along with my housemates, I decided to sit in and have a couple of cheeky beers, targeting the stockpile of loose bottles that had been sitting next to the fridge multiplying for the past couple of years. To spice things up we picked 3 random ales (thats right, cultured) and took one each. I ended up with a delightful little concoction known as "Cleveland Ale" which claimed to be from the lake district and full of natural flavor. It was full of flavor all right, terrible flavors created whilst it sat in the corner of the kitchen slowly going off. In fact it was only two weeks out of date, but when you consider the average shelf life of a bottle of beer is two years that is quite some feat. Anyway, I won't claim to be a huge drinker, but this ale tasted, for all intents and purposes like rams piss, and gave me a hangover after having just the one bottle. So in future children, when you crack open a bottle, check the date on the lid, and if its out tip it away, no matter what your friends say about finishing what you started. There is nothing cool about (out of date) alcohol.

So, as you managed to sit through all of that (I promise I will try to keep them shorter) I think you deserve a treat or two. The first video is a wonderfully choreographed dance number that never fails to put a smile on my face. You can't touch Vader.

I have a friend. Just the one mind. And he goes by the name of Tom Barter, and Tom Barter has a skill for finding new and unusual music on the interweb. No matter how hard I try I can't top the gems he unearths. Well in this case Tom, I think you have been served. Hey Ya!