At the last bloods check to which I was subjected, the readout said both my bp and cholesterol were high. So the quack gave me anti-hypertension pills, and I cut out all animal fat.

I went back a fortnight later, and my bp was normal.

The result from the latest session today is that I have lost several pounds (there was never that much of me in the first place) but the bp is rising again.

I do not doubt that, in order to get something vaguely enjoyable into the food I eat, I have replaced the fat with salt. Now that has to go as well. Foolishly, I’d thought the medication had granted me carte blanche; but there is no such thing as a free à la carte blanche.

Oh and by the way, the liver enzyme output was high thanks to my many decades spent studying – purely for research purposes – the effects of acohol.

Everything is a trade-off if one accepts that life is to be lived rather than forever extended. I will keep you posted as to progress.


I have a question tonight for all those involved in the global warming/cooling/tides/salinity/ozone/greenhouse/CO²/melting/Gulf Stream/El Nino bunfight. I freely admit it’s an edgy enquiry, but I’ll make it anyway:

How many weathers are there in a climate?

Every time I post about this infernally complex subject, I am treated to patronising lectures about the “obvious” difference between weather and climate. But I fear we lack some sort of centigrade measurement system to clarify matters.

The generally held belief is that all climate change is a gradual process, but that simply isn’t true. The North Wales coast – so the soil layers tell us – went from being a simmering, bubbling swamp of mud casserole to being under forty feet of ice in just 57 years. In Earth terms, that is but the blinking of a velociraptor’s eye.

Bearing in mind that 57 year geologically cast-iron proven span, in the 60 years from 1953 to 2013, the human race trebled in size. And during that time, water consumption continued to increase at a hugely faster rate than population growth. Today, over one billion people do not have access to clean drinking water, and waterborne illnesses are associated with 80% of disease and mortality in emerging nations. Unlike reproduction rates, water usage rises hugely with the onset of improved living conditions.

One of the very few things the nutter spectrum on climate change seems able to agree about is that the wet bits of our planet are getting wetter, and the drier parts are getting drier. This is exacerbating the water problem we’ve always had: it’s in the wrong places. Put together naturally polluted water, inaccessible water, saline water and simply uncollected water, and you’re left with a staggering stastitic. only 2.2% of all water that falls from the sky is available for drinking.

So all this stuff is what occasions my controversial question. It’s rhetorical in that there is no such thing as one answer; but it is also practical: who gives AF about the separation of weather and climate, if 100 years of shit weather could wipe us out?


Finally tonight, I wish to return to one of my favourite hobby-horses: all those politically correct goblins who used to call each other Comrade, but now – in the face of changing times – refer to those around them as ‘colleague’.

These are the people, you will recall, who define tolerance as the banning of all perfectly normal descriptions of ethnic and cultural difference. But this does not deter them from total intolerance of all those who disagree with their definitions of tolerance.

Over time, their empire has advanced to bar all criticism of those who are disabled, obese, tall, short, dangerously thin, thick, female, young, old, psychotic, homosexual, violent or any number of these things.

The colonisation of mores and language by these Nazis did, to be fair, follow an era in which lots of knuckleheads, MPs, Royals, football clubs, trade unionists and employers felt it their right to discriminate against everyone on mulitvariate bases that ranged from hair colour to myopia. But those days have long gone: today in 2016, the peecee peeps need to have their raison d’etre constantly refreshed by new forms of imagined prejudice. Even I – a man without stain on his impeccable character – found myself this week being accused of joking at the expense of the mentally ill….of whose regiment I have been a squaddie for several periods in my life.

So I feel I should help them in their quest for new territories of human variety to conquer in their remorseless search for We’re All the Same Really.

I won’t beat about the bush: the single greatest unrecognised bigotry left in the world is Zodiacism. All my life, I have been the victim of life-ruining rejection purely because I am a Piscean.

Many’s the time, on revealing my Zodiacal identity, I have heard the words, “Begone you smelly fish-brained dreamer of impossible dreams, for you are surely to blame for all our ills”. I have had to bite my tongue as insensitive people at dinner parties talked of “cold fish” and their disgust at the thought of handling slippery fish skin. Or listened to swineish fishermen revelling in the act of sticking hooks into the mouths of innocent salmon.

This is a conspiracy of silence that has gone on too long. We must end this stereotyping of Pisceans as indecisive, self-pitying and lazy. We deserve affirmative action on the equally important dimensions of being adaptable, devoted, imaginative….and above all, compassionate and accepting.

Except of course for them Aquarians. We fuckin’ ‘ate Aquarians, with their bloody hairy musicals and their unemotionally detached perversity. We spit on Aquarians. Stranglin’ at birth is too good for ’em.

If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy this