Billionaire pals and power cuts

HiHo Lums, 








Its always nice to get a message from an old dear friend, even those you cannot remember ever going to school with, or working together or even knowingly being within a hundred miles of. 


So, imagine my surprise and delight at getting an e-mail this evening from someone who regards me as a friend and one that I hadn't heard anything of since he kind of went off the radar about a month ago.    
My friend is of course Al-Saadi al-Gaddafi, isn't he every ones? 


"Dear friend" he starts, a little familiar I thought, we haven't spoken, like forever  "This e-mail will not come as a surprise" it goes on " if I've been following the Libyan revolution on the news", again, a little presumptious though I guess he is ignorant to the fact I'm not widely known as a go to guy for deposed despots.  
He explains that he is the third son of slain ex president of Libya, Muammar Gaddafi, its at this point I begin to think, surely if I was his BFF I would have known that and it would need no explanation, but maybe he just likes saying it.  
Anyway, some urgency gets introduced when he goes on to describe his situation and he might not have much time, this is because he is under house arrest in Niger.   I spent 4 hours stuck on a mysteriously diverted plane in some dusty military airport in Niger, so I have some sympathy at this point, Niger is pretty shit.  But I thought he was the subject of a good old international man hunt so he probably shouldn't have told me that. What he needs is an Information Security Manager, what a coincidence, it just so happens I'll be considering offers soon, if he can hang on. 


So, to business, my old pal Al-Saadi,  I'll call him Al, has got 60 billion dollars of his old dads money to filch before the National Transition Council gets a hold of it and trys to spend it on improving the lives of Libyans, he didn't actually say that last bit, but I knew he meant it.   Al says if he can hide it in my bank account he'll give me 30%, 20 billion dollars, which is very generous in anybodies language, and a further commission of 10% on all the deals he'll be doing, and I'll throw in the Information Security consulting work for my friends rate.   
Despite that this would make me about the fifteenth richest person in the world and give me the wherewithal to hollow out volcanoes and build my own death stars,  I've decided to pass up the opportunity, there are far more needy people than me, Berlusconis, Frankie from X-Factor, Greece, I should pass on their details.  The richest man in the world incidentally is a Mexican called Carlos Slim, does he sound a bit sinister to you, I'm sure it should be Carlos the Slim, The Carlos Slim is either a cigar or a handbag sized Latino sex toy.  


Speaking of X-Factor, there was a technical fault that delayed this evenings transmission by 15 minutes, no big deal for most people, lets face it, countries are going bust, wars are being fought, the oils running out and the ice caps are melting quicker than the rain forests are being burnt down.  
But apparently X-Factor fans were "furious".  The official X-Factor Twitter account, which the news agencies must monitor for, well, for inane shite was a storm of complaint.    Apparently, among those expressing their dismay, no, disgust was someone called VeeVaVoom1, who posted " So #XFactor was scheduled at 8.15, it's now 8.50pm and technical difficulties or not- we have only seen one act! " and then,  "I think the 'technical difficulties' were a deliberate sad attempt to increase ratings." 


This makes me think that VeeVaVoom1 hasn't really thought that through, that by somehow not having the show on for 15 minutes will increase ratings seems somehow the opposite of a good strategy.  She wasn't the only one, if VeeVaVoom1 is a woman, I'm willing to bet Als 60 billion dollars that she is, FootyCath said: "Am I the only one that thinks technical difficulties are entirely within your control for you to sort out?!?"  YES!!! FootyCath, you are, it was a power cut, remember  Cath, for I'm pretty sure that's your given name, X-Factor isn't run by the bad X-Men that like fucking things up.  


Lang may yer lum reek.  

Bits n Pieces and gold sovereigns by the knuckle

Car boot sale

Good evening Reekers,

Music festivals, I hate them.

I hate them because I am so old and out of it, if I went, I would be mistaken for a plain clothes policeman, all be it, a very drunk one, or some sad old roadie touting for work.

They are happening all up and down the country, Glastos here, V-festivals, there, missed those? Don’t worry T in the Park will be along in a minute. Like a branch of Waterstones though, or Wagamamas, they are so generic. If you were helicoptered blindfold into one of them, you would have no idea what one you were in, or what end of the country you were at. It’ll be the same stage, the same security men, the same hotdogs and portaloos probably. Well, on reflection, that is of course a load of bollocks, because you would have about 100,000 standing beside you that might give you a clue, if it was T in the Park anyway.

The real reason I hate them is that there was no such thing when I was young and up for it and there is zero chance now of me experiencing it for real. I have to watch it on TV, like I’m an old hobo, pressing my nose up against the window of a trendy happening club, and watching all the fun inside, as I stand out in the rain, with my toe-less boots, the lid half off my crooked top hat, and my little red spotted handkerchief, empty on the end of my cane.

We had The Radio 1 Roadshow, Smiley bloody Miley and Bits’n’Pieces from a pier near you. It was shit but it was all we had and when Limahl or somebody came on and mimed his way through some long forgotten bubbly composition, it must have been awesome judging by the audience reaction, of course, on the radio, it sounded exactly the same as always, because he was only lip-syncing over the top of his record anyway. No headline acts or alternative stages, no supergroup get togethers we had Mike Reid and that other Mike, the one that married Sarah somebody from Blue Peter.

I ended up having a browse through a car boot sale this weekend. It was a big one too, with maybe over a hundred hopeful hawkers, optimistically seeking someone as misguided as them to pass some of their crap onto. Which lets face it, is likely if you put all those types of people in one field. I’ve had a walk around these things before, but small ones, with expectant young ladies selling the contents of the loft before they get it converted into a nursery, or kids off loading toys they have grown out of. This one though was totally full of professionals . A kind of gypsy underclass by the looks of them. And what trumpeting tat they had to sell, they say one mans trash, is another mans treasure,well, If that is true, today I strode across what must appear to them to be a mountainous pile of gold sovereigns, with a golden fountain on top, pouring out diamonds, and all the little gypsy kids, dipping ruby marshmallows into the golden fondue and…well, you get the picture. Of course to me, without the benefit of any er... gold tinted glasses, it was still very much trashy trash.

There were many things that defy normal market forces of supply and demand. I’m presuming there is no demand anyway, for a spirit level with no spirit, tins of shaving foam that look like they have just been dug up along with an IRA weapons cache, ugly shoes by the skip load and huge bulbous TVs that weigh the same as a car. The one little shining pearl in the septic tank, was a funky electric heater that was very collectable, for a heater. It was a Sofono, from the 50s, all sci-fi and When Aliens Attack. I even asked the price, appearing as blokey and gypsy as I could, and he wanted £50, “its from the 30s mate” as if to quote some electric heater price guide. I should have corrected him like David Prickinson, but I didn’t want to appear like an authority on 1950s electric heaters, which I’m not by the way.

Have Libya discovered the cure for cancer, and just not telling us infidels in the West?

I had another discussion this week, where I defended the Scottish Parliaments decision last year to free the Libyan that was doing time for blowing up the Pan-Am flight over Lockerbie, all those years ago. Its getting harder to defend that decision the longer the man lives I’m afraid.

When they announced it at the time, I was proud of the decision, it showed courage, compassion and a faith in God to give ultimate judgement, and if your religious, and I’m not at all, but if you were, considering a central tenet of it is forgiveness, I couldn’t understand the flak and outrage that was aimed from all quarters, especially the USA who are always going on about Christ and God and how bloody holier than thou they all are. However, saying all that, he was given 3 months to live with his terminal cancer on release, then he would be up in front of, if you believe in all that, the most senior judge, with no chance of appeal. That was almost a year ago, it doesn’t matter how noble a gesture, or worthy a sentiment to offer justice always with compassion, but its looking more and more like that has been taken advantage of, and that is very very sad.

Lang may yer lum reek.