Chavs Aren't People

Now I firmly believe that every being on this earth, even wasps, have a purpose. However I cannot begin to fathom the use, purpose or role of Chavs.

As far as I can see these teenage layabouts are happy to spend there time clogging up city centres spewing drivel from there stupid Reebok covered faces and stabbing everybody who so much as looks at them. They talk a form of English, if you can call it English, that is incomprehensible to everyone except fellow Chavs. As far as I can tell they were put on this earth to fill tracksuits and to give us all a good laugh when they put their foot though a wall or nearly kill a mate by spinning them on a roundabout with a scooter wheel. Don't get me wrong I take huge pleasure in seeing tracksuit clad idiots of the world nearly killing each other. To be honest if you and you mates die thinking it's a good idea to use a 150cc Moped to spin a child's park ride then so be it. It's called natural selection. It means there is one less idiot in the world for me to hate (which is nice).

If they're not on buses playing music, and I use the word music in it's loosest form, without headphones bothering everyone with ears that function. They are stood round a flaming bin of dead OAPs texting each other because they have given up on speech.

I have found my self pushing my house key through the gap on my fingers so if, heaven forbid I do have to punch one of them in the face, I'll fucking kill them.

End Of Rant.

I feel better now.

In A Cafe Nero

Hello, blogland.

As I am typing this I am sat on the upper floor of Peterborough's Caffe Nero and might I say it's wonderful. What I love about Caffe Nero is the way it manages to be a member of the three major Coffee shop chains, Starbucks, Costa and of course Caffe Nero, and still feel like an independent shop. The one bad thing I will say is that the toilets do leave a lot to be desired, but if you're the sort of person who comes into a coffee shop just to use the defecation facilities then you're an idiot.

So while I sit here waiting for a friend, sipping my Latte and munching a rather special Almond Croissant I thought I'd share with you a few coffee shop musings, aren't you a lucky fellow.

So musing no 1. I love the music in Caffe Nero. It's bloody clever. If you get here between 7am and mid-day you can expect to hear wonderful gentle classical, Bach, Handle, Brahms and Beethoven that kind of thing. However come between mid-day and 5pm you can enjoy the gentle stylings of some acoustic/jazz/gentle pop eg. David Gray, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald. Come between 5pm and closing time they will play the current hits or crap as I like to refer to it. I like music that evolves to suit your day. It just makes sense.

Musing no 2. I love a comfy sofa and the ones in The Nero are no exception. They have that feel of an old bar sofa, the kind that's been around since the first person said: "I'm bored of either standing up or sitting on a spike I',m going to invent something comfy you can sit on." The rest of the Puritan world said "No no it can't be done you're an idiot" The person, however, did not listen and he created a thing called a sofa. All the other people stood and stared in wonderment. A chosen few tried the sofa sitting cautiously afraid that they would be swallowed up whole by its plush upholstery or soft under buttock feel.

"It will never catch on," they said.

They were idiots it has caught on and thank God it did. I love the sofa's end of.

Musing no 3. Coffee oh yeah coffee. I bloody love the stuff. I don't know who it was who discovered the coffee bean and decided instead of rubbing it into the thighs, that it would work best in a drink, but whoever they are I want to make sweet sweet love to you. You have added to my life. So much so that I can't imagine time before coffee and to be honest I don't want to. Those were the dark ages. An age where people just sat around depressed, tired and wandering whether to occupy there time swimming in poo or strangling each other. Personally I'd opt for poo swimming, I've never been one for violent behaviour. However, I digress. To you, and this is to the person who discovered coffee as a drink, I fucking love you. Without a shadow of a doubt or a moment's hesitation, I FUCKING LOVE YOU.

So ends this Caffe Nero blog.

Happy Friday blog world

Matt

Rambo Review (2008)

Film Review - Rambo (2008)

Now if like me youʼve seen Rambo First Blood, Rambo First Blood Part 2 and Rambo 3, then I

imagine you started jumping up and down making little squeaky noises upon hearing about the

fourth film in the series, Rambo.

The first thing that springs immediately to mind when I watched this film was the title. Rambo.

Whilst like a popular wood stain product Rambo does exactly what it say on the tin, I couldnʼt help but wonder why Mr Stallone hadnʼt taken a bit more time to think of a better title. However if we cast our minds back to the Rocky series, he did more or less the same thing there.

Moving on. The latest Rambo epic is set many years after Rambo 3, when John Rambo has left

the life of big knives, heavy machine guns and shouting behind him and moved to Thailand hoping for the peaceful life catching snakes. It sounds idyllic I know. However his peaceful snake wrangling existence is soon interrupted when a group of naive Christian human rights missionaries ask him for a lift into Burma. Rambo knowing full well that Burma has been a war zone for many years, with the Burmese military killing near enough anything that moves to death, refuses to help. Eventually there attractive female member Sarah (Julie Benz) manages to talk him round. Oh Rambo you may be a hard man, but youʼre still a sucker for a pretty face. During their trip up river the boat is stopped by the Burmese military and surprise surprise Rambo responds by shooting them all in the face. When the slightly shaken missionaries arrive at their destination they are soon caught in the middle of one of the Militiaʼs raids, led by the sadistic Major Pa Tee Tint. They are all taken hostage and I think you can probably guess where this is going now. Rambo gets sent in with a small team of mercenaries to rescue the hostages, kill the bad guy and essentially kick some Burmese bottom. So the usual Rambo blood bath then ensues with this Rambo movie racking up the highest body count yet.

The table below illustrates the afore mentioned point.

Film Total Body Count Kills Per Minute

Rambo First Blood 1 0.01

Rambo First Blood Part 2 69 0.72

Rambo 3 132 1.30

Rambo 236 2.59

As you can see a fairly hefty leap.

Now overall the production values of this film are great. The locations are superb, the special

effects are quite special and the directing from Mr Stallone isnʼt half bad. What lets this film down massively is itʼs feeble attempt to make a political statement and at the same time inspire people to help the Burmese people with their struggle. Now I for one believe what the people of Burma have to endure is terrible, after all the film is based on truth. However what Sylvester Stallone should have realized that Rambo maybe isnʼt the best political figure.

In summery if you want to watch a fairly brainless run and gun film with explosions, people getting ripped to shreds with machine gun fire and a big muscly man attempting to be inspirational then this film is just right for you. If however you would rather watch something intelligent that does make you think then avoid this film like the plague.