Inane Banter

Should prospective parents be able to determine their child’s gender?

Yep, another week another Toshiba moral dilemma. Like last week rather than think about it I’ll just rattle off some nonsense and that laptop is as good as mine. The get me a free laptop button is was below.


Should prospective parents be able to determine their child’s gender?

Parents have to determine many things in a child’s life, is little Timmy struggling at school, should I immunise him, shall I give him a ridiculous name so he suffers throughout school, has he evacuated his bowels or is it just wind and those are some of the easier decisions. Parents must have a keen eye to judge what’s going on with their child lest they grow up to become an estate agent.

This brings us to the crux of the argument, determining a child’s gender is very easy. If it has something dangling between it’s legs then it’s a boy, if not it’s a girl and if it has something massive dangling between it’s legs then call the nurse over to cut the umbilical cord. If you’re a prospective parent and you don’t know that then I’d seriously think twice about what you’re letting yourself in for.

Inane Banter

Born Bad

Toshiba have had a website where they post a question of the week and people blog their answer. As I’m not too proud to pimp this junk wherever I can I thought I’d join in. You never know it may repair some of those brain connections destroyed by years of alcohol. I’m not holding my breath.


Are people born evil?

Let’s put it this way, if I invited somebody into to my home and the first thing they did was pull a lamp over before collapsing in a heap on the floor, that wouldn’t be a good start. If they then decided to interrupt conversations by screaming at the top of their lungs with no thought to others I’d be thinking that they were very rude.

Whilst not everybody is interested in politics, I wouldn’t say that a ‘good’ person would spoil the debate by loudly soiling themselves in front of everybody. If they did I wouldn’t expect them to lie there crying until somebody else had to go and clean them up.

If their thanks for being looked after was coat the outfit of the kind soul with warm, runny vomit then they’d be edging into the ‘nasty’ sort of personality.

The mark of a truly evil person is having disrupted the whole night, left a lingering smell in the lounge, ruined somebody’s top would to then insist on going to bed before everybody else and not only that but insist on having a special bed made up by somebody else rather than using the perfectly good bed in the spare room.

I can only conclude that babies are evil and so people are born evil.

And to rub it all in they never bring a bottle of wine.

Food Inane Banter

Egg, why do you mock me?

Is it funny how different things embarrass you throughout life. Things that would make me cringe years ago don’t bother me at all now and things I wouldn’t have thought about at all as a 5 year old now rise up to smite me.

When you’re at school there’s a whole sea of potential embarrassment waiting to wash over you. You might wet yourself, get an answer wrong in front of the class or be forced to sing hymns even if you have a voice so bad it practically proves the flaws in God’s great design. Heaven help you if you look a bit funny or buy the wrong trainers. You’re looking at months of pricey psychotherapy in later life if you turned up to school wearing rip-off adidas that only had two stripes.

Even if you never actually did anything embarrassing that wouldn’t stop school kids just making something up and it was usually far worse than anything you might actually have done. So instead of “Dave walks funny” you’d more likely get something like “Dave shags dogs, it’s true, he has bonios down his pants and everything.” Fortunately for me I was a spotty, slightly overweight boy who couldn’t talk to girls and had hair that, despite having enough hairspray in it to globally warm a cup of tea, became a bowl cut before I’d even got to the end of the road. Nobody had to make anything up about me.

Then you get that bit older and discover alcohol and the opposite sex. You don’t need anybody else to embarrass you then. You’re more than capable of making a tit of yourself without anybody else’s help. If I didn’t wake on a Sunday in a fuggy haze of self loathing based on something I’d done the night before then I’d figured the pub must have watered the beer down.

Now I’ve reached that age where it takes a lot to embarrass me. If I do something stupid I can easily think of 10 things far more idiotic I’ve done in the past with no long term damage. So now once again outside forces have to raise their heads to embarrass me.

Now I’m not a messy eater, I can quite happily eat all sorts of sloppy food without it getting all over me. Curry, spaghetti, beetroot all no problem. However egg mayonnaise has taken it upon itself to become my nemesis. I like eggs, I like mayonnaise, they hate me. Today, as so many time before, I was eating my egg mayonnaise sandwich. As usual a bit of egg mayonnaise escaped it’s bready confines and with laser-like precision it yet again aimed straight for the crotch area of my trousers. So begins another afternoon trying not to walk around like I’ve just spunked all over my trousers.

Ironically when I was young I used to get this strange panicked feeling that I’d gone to school without putting my trousers on. I’ve no idea where this strange paranoia came from. I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually done it or even come close but I used to get small panic attacks about it. All I had to do was glance down to confirm that, yes, I was wearing trousers and all would be well with the world. However if today I had forgotten to wear trousers at least they wouldn’t look like I’d just creamed on them.