The Foul-Smelling Race and a Liberal Dose of Chemicals

It dawned on me the other day that we must be an extremely pongy nation! This realization did not spring on me whilst I searched for oxygen under the runny armpit of some banker on the London Underground or whilst reeling at my own disgusting morning breath but was born from a million and one adverts on television that tell us that we need to get serious.

Hundreds of adverts strongly suggest that life cannot go on without serious assistance. Young lads roam the streets in sadness, isolated and shunned until one fine day they discover deodorant! A liberal all-over dunking of some false-smelling spray drastically changes everything, locked doors open, withered flowers spring into bloom and well, girls, just fall head over heels were before they were instantly turned off. Girls only fall in love with boys who are petrified in various liquids and sprays, boys only fall in love with the wild woman who spends a fortune on a hint-of-a-tint rose, begonia, Japanese pine (maybe that was for the bathroom) or a lily-tainted concoction!

Never mind the body, what about the house! That advert, the one with the man who comes home from work and the first thing that he does is to throw himself flat onto the carpet to dramatically inhale some wonderfully smelly chemicals that the wife lovingly sprayed around, is well pretty sick. The couple who dance in front of an automatic motion sensing air-freshener - although it takes a day and a half for the husband to work that out as he stands waiting in a pool of his own smelly misery waiting for a burst to happen! Then there is the air-freshener that changes its output depending upon erm, night and day or was it temperature based, but, it matters not when the contraption spurts out Wassail, Cranberry and Holiday Scent for the connoisseur.

And there is a bonus to an air-freshener in the work place. As Ballard Air Fresheners puts it, "Sweet smell of SUCCESS - Fragrance somehow allows you to pay better attention, particularly at the end of a task. A separate study found office workers set higher goals for themselves and were more focused when commercial air fresheners were put in the work environment". Not only is the room smelling nice and disguising all of those disgusting body odors, stale furniture whiffs, fetid photocopier printouts and the foul-smelling sense of failure but the environment is a happy one! All this from a little container holding formaldehyde, petroleum distillates, p- dichlorobenzene, and aerosol propellants with a dash of whatever takes your fancy.

The US Environmental Protection Agency said, "as air fresheners are usually highly flammable and also strong irritants to eyes, skin, and throat. Additionally, the solid fresheners usually cause death if eaten by people or pets". And then there was that poor boy in Nottingham, the one who died after spraying himself with Lynx deodorant. "Boy, 12, collapsed and died after 'using too much Lynx deodorant". Lynx insisted that the small print on the canister should have been read before use.

And then we have the bathroom. I won't go down the road of discussing the urinals at Old Trafford after a lost home match against Liverpool but as Imtek puts it "Bathrooms in general can be easily invaded by foul odors from urine and feces. They are also an ideal breeding ground for bacteria, mold, mildew, and fungus that also generate odor. Unfortunately, most ventilation systems only recirculate room air and remove large particulate matter such as dirt, dust, and lint. Pungent bathroom odors are left free to recirculate in the air you breathe and could increase in concentration if left untreated. Covering up nasty bathroom odors with perfumed deodorizers often times only result in even more offensive smells". That's enough of that.

There are many websites devoted to smell removal but I particularly like those offered up by Wacky Home Tips especially the idea of removing the smell of perspiration from clothes by dipping them in half a bucket of water to which three or four aspirin tablets have been added. Leave for a couple of hours and the smells will vanish! Whats wrong with a washing machine?

To capitalize on this seemingly overpowering urgency to smell anything other than natural I am going to invest heavily in designing and producing a series of deodorants, air-fresheners and deodorizers that cater to some extremely specific odor problems. My favorite idea so far is for my four-year old son, and the many people like him, who fart without remorse or compunction. I am going to make an automatic fart deodorizer. This will sit in the back-pocket and upon sensing movement in his nether regions a burst of forest oak will be emitted that will disguise and neutralize any foul odors before they hit the nostrils. The smell of forest pine might alert others to the fact that a fart has been emitted but this would be a small price to pay.

I am also wandering what to do about smelly socks! Perhaps a shoe filled with aspirins might work or a shoe that has inbuilt injection nozzles and a heel that can store a variety of sweet smelling sachets for those moments when the socks become too heavy to cope with.

A Wii Experience for the Family

What a day I have just had. My legs are shivering, my arm muscles ache and the large decorative chicken that graced the mantle piece has forever been consigned to the bin, thank god!

It all started when I formulated this cunning plan (partly to help me mate Gordo (Gordon Brown) and his Darling) to get the economy moving forward instead of backward and it involved buying a large present for my wife at great expense.

When I arrived in Princes Street in Edinburgh it seemed that half the population of the UK had a similar cunning plan as the shops were jam-packed to overflowing with crazed shoppers. I know when the blinkers are on; the eyes are glazed over in a manic non-compromise glare, the elbows have been resharpened, the mouth is sealed lest the swear words boil out and nobody and nothing is going to get in the way of a bargain spotted! The supposed recession, depression, downturn or call it what you may that is supposedly with us was as far away from reality as I was about to don a tutu! Shoppers were out and they were buying, hands, bags and minds were full to overflowing with goods bought and seconds were already on the menu!

I joined the fray last wednesday to buy a Wii. I didn't really know then what a Wii was, it initially crossed my mind that it was "we" spelt wrong but after consulting an expert from behind the counter I was told that it was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Crikey! Something to eat perhaps?

My wife had said that she would like to try it so charged with a a mission to save the UK from deep depression I persevered and soon found out that a Wii was simply a drive through which games can be played on the television. In other words I was about to buy another decadent avenue of escape, a materialistic addition to an otherwise cluttered household, an extremely unsociable outlet for the frustrated, an expensive lump of plastic that bowed down to the bored, an exclusive item of sadness for those who are simply too reclusive, shy and unwitting to step outside and actually face another human or in other words something that will soon wither in fascination and end up in the attic!

I managed to buy a wii for mii and off I toddled home, happy for Gordon that everybody was out shopping even before they had got their rumored tax-rebate and happy for myself for having spent a whack of money on an item that was "the second most essential household item after the TV"! Knowing a little I was going to point out to my kindly sales-person that buying a Wii without a television was a bit pointless but I decided not to confuse his patter - a little bit of knowledge can be dangerous and maybe he knew something that I didn't.

Fast Forward to today!

It was my wife's birthday today! It was a great day and all my family came for lunch and it wasn't until they had left that we broke open my gift to her, the Wii and the Wii fit board!

One thing I must do after writing this article is to apologize to my darling wife as she never managed to the get the control to herself for a test and play. Between my four-year old son punching the living daylights out of some poncy opponent and myself learning Aerobics (I'm overweight it seems), giving myself two weeks to lose 1 stone and then running riot on the golf course my poor wife fell asleep on the couch.

Yes, I'm sure she will enjoy it once she wakes up! But for now my arms and legs seriously ache and thank you lord, that horrible chicken that I couldn't bare to look at has gone at last!

Silas E Parks and the Pirate Attack

I have at last managed to write another SILAS E PARKS adventure - the beginning of which can be found below.

Silas E Parks and the Pirate Attack

Pirates have been grabbing headlines recently. They seem to be grabbing ships from all nooks and crannies of the oceans and it makes me wonder what all the fuss is about. I mean, when I was attacked and boarded by pirates we would have fought them and chased them off like the rogues that they were had we been able to get to them. We would have stood up and faced them man-to-man, guns and all, and showed them that we weren’t sitting down on the job.

No Siree, not me and certainly not my crew!

It was in 1993 when this particular nasty incident occurred. I was the Captain on this rather large oil tanker and having loaded up in Ras Tanura, Saudi Arabia we were heading down the Malacca Straits towards Singapore for bunkers and much needed stores. After that it was straight on down the hill to Australia and hopefully for me a flight home for a well earned leave!

My old companion Joe Larkin, the Chief Engineer was with me, a man who I could trust to keep the engine ticking over through hellfire and an ice-age if that was required of him, although during this incident he failed miserably for the first time in his otherwise unblemished career. Anyway, I don’t want to dig a grave for the man! I took the blame squarely on my shoulders as a Captain should even though it was not my fault at all, leaving Joe to continue his career unblemished and free of a black mark on his record.

Not sure why he stopped that engine in the middle of what is known to be rabid pirate country, peculiar really as I never told him to do so and certainly he should have known better for a man of his seasoning!

We were heading down the Malacca straights at about fourteen knots, as fast as we could go and with no intention of slowing down until Singapore clearly showed on the radar and daylight led us through to the safe anchorage. That was how we stood when our good ship entered the Malacca Straits and feeling secure in the onboard security measures the crew relaxed whilst we worked our way downward, plotting the courses as procedure dictates and navigating the ship in what was otherwise just another day at sea!

Drinking is banned in Ras Tanura – even for those of alternate faith and nationality – inhumane treatment I agree but when in Saudi, must do as the Saudi’s do or end up in jail!

For the rest of the story please visit Here

A Letter to Mr George Osborne

Dear Mr George Osborne

As an introduction to myself and to why I write to you on this very fine Saturday evening in November, I am an extremely average member of the British public who simply cannot fathom how you can wake up in the morning without cursing yourself in the bathroom mirror. I therefore have decided to put pen to paper in an attempt to stop hitting my own head against a brick wall in complete frustration over your total and utter stupidity, nay pathetic attempts to be a politician!

I have for the last few decades managed to ignore and weasel out of getting sensationally involved in the over-hyped and pointless journalistic license surrounding the Royal Family, political waywardness and social freaks. In this vein I have managed to take no further interest in your recent alleged exploits re: Russian Oligarchs and obvious desperate ploys to fill the kitty but when I am faced with the headline "Gordon Brown risks run on the pound, says George Osborne" I have no choice but to get sucked in to this very dark, damp and deep swamp of political and human incorrectness! This is not hyped-up journalism, this is pure stupidity that any journalist would be proud to write around.

Oh, before I forget, I have seen your photograph and mug liberally pasted over every newspaper in the land. I tried to find one without but failed, a similar occurrence that prompted me to write a recent letter to your cohort David Cameron! Are you perchance identical twins?

Not to run off at a tangent, are you really so naive as to say such things away from the bathroom mirror? Or are you simply determined to drag the UK economy into the gutter by provoking bad journalism?

Whilst Gordon Brown is not on my birthday card list it is quite the current view that he should be left to deal with the economy till suitable stabilization is gained and that cross-party politics should take second place during this time! The recent show-boating during the Prime-Ministers Question Time, the headline grabbing negativity and the constant harping whenever a camera is around, is not doing the conservative party or the economy any good at all.

I therefore strongly suggest that you sit down and have a talk with your buddy David about the possibility of actually helping and supporting the Prime Minister and his cabinet in their very serious endeavors to straighten out the economy and to put on the back-burner this degrading show of constant opposition until such times as the British public will actually give a fart?

I sincerely apologize if this letter seems harsh in its content, considering that you don't know me from Adam, but believe me when I say that Adam and every other Joe, Jack and Jill in Britain is not in any mood for your recent conduct and your uncontrolled political ambitions! You are in-short being extremely selfish!

And hey, is it true? Did you really try to solicit money from a Russian Oligarch on his private yacht? I honestly doubt that any normal politician would try to do such, considering the legal spotlights that shine on party funding tactics, but then you did accuse Gordon Brown to the Times Newspaper of following a deliberate “scorched-earth policy” that would leave the economy in a mess for the Tories to inherit!

Thinking about it you probably don't have a bathroom mirror to look into. I therefore suggest that you nip down to the local B&Q and buy one, hang it on your wall and take a long and hard look at yourself every morning. Do us all a favor before stepping out into the big wide world, a place were some people have some very serious things to do to make it right for the rest of us.

Yours Sincerely

Ieuan Dolby

A Letter to David Cameron

Dear Mr Cameron

I have over the last few months had my brain drilled and gouged by your constant nattering on the family box! My recent purchase of a flat-screen television, my timely payments by direct-debit for a color license and the fact that my settee was bought at great expense (on the understanding that its main function would be to support my family in comfort whilst watching the box) did not involve having to listen to you rabbiting away.

I appreciate that you are not on every channel and certainly my flat screen came with a remote control but the batteries have gone and so I have to get up to change the channel every time your talking mug unexpectedly appears.

What annoys me most is that you just talk! In actual fact I could compare you to that hockey-mum who recently provided America with a decades worth of cruel jokes as I found out that she can talk but then she never really said anything worth listening too. And by the way she was instrumental in ensuring that poor Mr John McCain lost the election without a fight.

If Gordon Brown says "white" you will say "black"! If Gordon Brown says "stand" you will say "sit". Is that a natural political-savvy thing to do because as far as I am concerned Gordon Brown can't be wrong on every single little thing he does.

Certainly, please don't misconstrue my words or read meaning between these lines! I'm not a raving nutter who follows politics through daily doses of the Guardian newspaper, nor am I an ex-right wing turncoat or a supporter of Gordon Brown himself but then I do know who you all are and when anybody has something worthwhile to say about the economy, about things that effect us all then I will listen without prejudgment.

I switched on the news this morning and sat down in my settee with a steaming hot cup of coffee! And there on BBC news was your mug, blabbering on about tax cuts and how you would have done it and how you predicted crisis before crisis itself knew it was going to happen, and you just didn't stop harping on about how great you were and how wrong the Prime Minister is.

Unfortunately you had nothing worthwhile to say or listen to! Today is most likely the start of the end of your dreams and desires, I'm sure that many others feel the same way about your constant hard-done-to whining on national television - as Sarah Palin did to Republicanism you are doing to Conservatism and shortly you will be confined to the bleakest of political landscapes, the dessert where has-been politicians moan and grumble to each other about how they could have made changes for the better, the difference being that no television cameras are there to record it all.

In the end I was forced to get up and switch over to CNN, just so that I didn't have to listen to you any more!

CNN for Christ sakes - what are you doing to me?

I sincerely hope that you will read this letter in the vein that it was intended. Not to hurt or slight, nor to put political viewpoint ahead of common sense but simply to tell you that I, and many other people can't be bothered with constant and inane chatter to the negative. We all know how easy it is to shut the stable door after the horse has bolted and to say things negatively about others, so enough is enough.

I would therefore be extremely grateful if you could vacate the political landscape and close the door behind you. As soon as practically possible it would be nice if you could move on to hopefully more fruitful enterprises. I'm not sure in what arena your skills lie but perhaps a non-talking role, like a nighttime security guard at some local factory or as a long distance truck driver might be better suited to you.

By stepping aside so you will open up the opportunity for some politically savvy, straight talking 'leader' to take center stage and give Gordon Brown a decent run for his money!

Oh, and off the record; whilst Sarah Palin never really said anything worth listening to she certainly has a nice body worth looking at - an enormous advantage in the political wasteland ahead.

Yours sincerely

Ieuan Dolby
11th November 2008

A Career Move from Ship to Shore

Seafarers are sometimes required to move ashore, maybe to take their skills into a shipping company’s office, to give up the roaming life due to poor and deteriorating health, to appease the nagging wife or to simply climb to the next rung of the ladder. Whatever the reason that provokes the move it is hard to do none-the-less thus the reason why many talk about it but never actually get around to doing anything.

I gave up seafaring after twenty-five years of ploughing the ocean waves, a mixture of “appeasing the nagging wife”, a climb up the next rung of the ladder and because I was royally fed up of not being there when my young son had a birthday, when he uttered his first words and managed to pee into the toilet without spraying the carpet first! All these things provoked me to make a subtle change in my lifestyle and career and without looking back I applied for jobs ashore, got a job ashore and moved ashore thus closing the door on a long, excitable and an extremely enjoyable career at sea.

Bit like giving up smoking; the urge never actually goes away however many years pass!

Is smoking really that bad for the health?

And so here I am after nearly two years ashore wandering what it would be like to return to the ocean waves! Did I really make the right decision after twenty-five years of utter enjoyment?

Moving ashore was great! I get to see my son when anything important happens in his life (he still sprays the carpet and the wife says I do to) and the wife has stopped nagging – in fact I think she is having second thoughts as well but she can’t say anything now after ten years of constant harping for it! Moving into the office was not so great either as office politics is a horrendous things to witness and sadly to be dragged into! I found myself ripping apart some manager that I hardly knew just to kick start off some conversation with some pasty faced supervisor simply because I wanted a desk beside the window! Aaaar, is this really me? My health has gone down hill, a paunch has appeared and I was shocked to see it till the Doctor told me it was normal for people living a degenerate office-desk-manacled lifestyle.

But there is no turning back now. It is too late for that! I have set-up the subscriptions to receive a weekly copy of ‘Man Health’, I am a member of the local photography club, I socialise regularly on the last Sunday of every month with the senior management who nearly throw tomatoes at each other after one drink and I go to all the parent-teachers meetings at my son’s school. And anyway, I have had a lobotomy done so that I think the same way that all offices think towards ships, I now automatically assume that all Captains and Chief Engineers are ignorant and have no idea about financial matters or for that matter how to navigate or maintain a ship in suitable condition.

The state lobotomy automatically given to those seafarers moving ashore is irreversible, it doesn’t work the other way and can only be done once.

So that is my life and like giving up smoking I often hanker for a trip to sea, I frequently day-dream over a slice of freedom on the ocean waves but like it or not I just have to buckle down and accept my manacled fate graciously for I am the Captain of a desk now.

I have two screens on my office computer though – that must count for something.

Now it is time for a Dynamic British Leader

It was amazing to watch the elections unfold in America and I must admit, although I find it teeth-extracting to do so, that America and the Americans managed to do do something right for once.

They went to the polls and they voted overwhelmingly for a leader who they could be proud of.

This was as black and white as any result was every going to get.

After-all, what is a leader, what do people want in a leader? In answer to my very own question I would say, a leader is somebody to believe in and a powerful body that takes everything in his/her stride. Somebody to follow when times are tough and somebody who has some answers when nobody else does and somebody who acts decisively whether right or wrong, somebody to believe and trust in when the clouds threaten and who is always there doing something and not simply arguing about it with some pasty-faced opposition party-member! A leader is a man or woman, black or white or simply takes up the role and acts like any leader should.

And what does Britain have?

We have a leader who acted decisively during the peak of the credit crunch but he is certainly not somebody that I would follow into battle! He looks terrible, as if the weight of responsibility has degraded him into a shell of a human, he speaks slowly and with deliberation, he brings himself down by sparring with a pasty opposition and he generally is not somebody that I would follow right or wrong simply because he does not bestow faith even to those who still believe.

And the troubling thing is that he is the best we have got around! Is there nobody out there, no dynamic person who could take Britain forward? Is there no true leader waiting in the curtains, a human that doesn't remind us all of a wet-blanket.

Sadly no, but if there is somebody that fits the description of a leader please stand-up and make yourself known now.

We desperately need you!

Papa, Barack Obama shouts too loud!

As the US Election 2008 draws closer I and probably more people than ever before wander who will win! Will it be the botox-user, the expressionless and permanently hunched old-guy or the bamboozling big-mouthed black guy?

Then again who really cares? Are they not all born from the same mould?

Despite my interest, nay fascination in the show as it has unfolded my son put everything into perspective for me!

It was a cold yet crisp Saturday morning, one of my first days off in many, and as I sat snuggled into the corner of the settee with a cup of steaming Brazilian coffee in my hands I switched on the BBC news for the worlds latest. My four-year old son was in front of me, scrunched-up over the coffee table studiously drawing submarines and fire engines that looked to me like a bad day-out at an Italian restaurant after a gang of seriously drunk carpet-fitters in Glasgow had provoked the local don!

Barack Obama was on the news, hastily regaling his poster-waving troops to arm-aching cheers, and my son turned around to me and said "papa, please turn off the television, too much shouting, too loud".

And I suppose it was! Take away the mega-money induced hysteria, the loud and arrogant shouting and finger wagging and remove the shows of loving support by the masses, the empty shell leaves little to be desired!

I'll ask my son later what he thinks of the unwrinkled old-geyser!