The High Street RIP

I know it's not an iPad, but can I still order stuff online with it?

You know what it was just a matter of time, HMV were hanging in there as the last retailer in this market and as such there was a slim chance they'd make it, it's pretty sad

Back in October I went into newry to pick up an Xbox game and the only place left was hmv, zavi, game, GameStop, etc all gone, and now hmv

This is the end of the high street, I remember growing up and virgin megastore was the biggest destination in belfast, now it seems to be Starbucks or costa

Not sure about pc world, they carry expensive large items like tvs etc, stuff people want to go and see before they buy, there is big mark up on some of this stuff, especially cables, software etc, but the net is bound to eat into them, 

The interesting thing about PC world and currys is that sometimes they can match and even beat net prices

I think our biggest concerns now is the rates bill, in NI the rates bills for retail is massive and with so many shops going to the wall a big gap is starting to open, I'm worried that the councils are going to start to shift a greater burden of rates onto the homeowner 

The high street is in some pretty serious trouble, a further impact is pensions, a lot of big pension funds invest heavily in city centres and the rental income from prime locations and stores, 

These locations don't look to be prime anymore, and you could now see a big fall in property values in towns and city centres with 1 in 5 shops now empty

Long term retail is dead, it's not a big jump forward to assume that all shopping will be done via your tablet or some for of electronic paper magazine, 

You'll flip through the pages and click on what you want, it will then be delivered, or you drive to an B and Q, Argos type store or a drive through and pick it up, sure even now amazon will deliver your stuff to certain filling stations for you to pick up there

You could also see augmented reality, want to buy a new couch? Well the app will be on your tab and it will size your room, and show you your options, change the colour etc show you the stats on how popular your choice is, who on Facebook has the same couch which celebs have it etc

Then click yes and it's delivered the next dayThe same for clothes, footwear, everything, 

A further development is the idea of the 3d printer, you want a mug or a plate or a clock, you just buy the licence, type it into your 3d printer and it prints one out for you

Once we all get superfast broadband the vid shop will die, next will be the cinema, you'll buy a movie premier and watch it in your house, the day it is released, there will no longer be a physical copy. 

The next generation of consoles will be the last to use disks, you download everything

Town centres become the new Detroit, abandoned like the coal mines and ship yards 

Shopping will no longer be a social thing to do, but done at home, while chatting to your friends on Facebook, 

Instead people will meet up to do stuff, eat, coffee, sports etc, the idea of going for a dander round the shops with your mates will be dead, 

But no matter how much things chance there will always be some drop outs drinking Concord under the big square at the Armagh planetarium 

Resistance is futile, so just accept your shitty fate

Life as I see it is a series of tasks that have to be done in order you can swap the position of some tasks but most people do them in the same order.

• Primary school
• Fun
• 11 plus
• Secondary School
• GF
• Bullying
• First fight
• Driving test
• A levels
• Meet proper friends
• Uni
• First non hideously embarrassing ride
• Living away from home
• Shitty job
• Shitty job
• Shitty job
• Shitty job
• Relationship that near kills you
• Shitty job
• Getting the sack cause you can’t see the point
• Shitty job
• Getting the sack cause you can’t see the point
• Shitty job
• Getting the sack cause you can’t see the point
• Shitty job                                                      
• Proper Job
• Pay rise cause you’re actually good at something
• Partner
• Best ride
• Best blow job ever
• Co Habitation
• Co habitation in a nice house (with no mould)
• Get proper satellite TV
• Buy house
• Be annoyed about your age
• Kids
• Hate music made after you were 25
• Watch cooking shows non ironically
• Kids love you
• Destroy kids happiness with rules
• Kids let you down
• They turn out all right in the end
• Retire
• Watch Antiques roadshow non ironically
• Shit the bed
• Get a mind rotting disease
• Die

In a world full of cunts, John Terry is the ultimate cunt

It really is hard to imagine a bigger cunt in football than John Terry. 

That’s saying something in an era that contains such a galaxy of cuntish luminaries. We're talking cunts like...

Ashley Cole the man who had to pull over his car in disbelief at the paltry 50 grand a week Arsenal were offering him for a WEEKLY wage. He fucks around on his wife - even if that snake bitch is musical cancer - and has a yellow streak longer than the universe’s biggest solar flare. When being legitimately booed for being shit for England he responds by saying I wasn’t even playing last game, the coward fuck.

And

Joey Barton the kind of person stupid people think is smart. Just because the moron quotes Nietzsche or make a reference to Brunel does not mean he has any notion of the meaning or conception of the work of these people. Actions speak louder putting a cigar out on someone’s face especially a black person and getting sent off for aiming a kick at a prone players head tells me all I need to know about this cowardly toad cunt.

And

Stephen Gerrard snogged the fuck out of that badge last weekend didn’t he? There must have been a fiver behind it cause that’s the ONLY thing that cunt loves. To face the fans afterwards and tell them how devoted he is must have been the hardest thing to do with a straight face. That and teaming up to beat the fuck out of random punters in bars, let your mates take the rap as you walk away scot free.  Bollocking a referee who was told by his own fans to die of cancer must have been a highlight of manlyhood for Stevie - WHAT ME pass the ball to my peasant team mates - ME.

And

Man U’s own resident scumbag Wayne grannyfucker Rooney.  Brilliant player... but the biggest mercenary since John fucking Rambo.  As bad as Gerrard loyalty wise on 230 grand a fucking week every time he leaves training it must feel like he’s jumping in the getaway car.  Has never done it for his country yet has such a sense of entitlement that he felt it was OK to bollock the fans who spent a massive chunk of their disposable income to watch a clart with the control of a baby elephant kicking a beachball on ice making a cunt of himself.  Of course they can boo they’re the ones who pay your wages giving you a much needed job review. You might try listening sometime.

And

Carlos Tevez how could I have left this uber cunt this long. Your team are in a life and death struggle for its first league title in 50 odd years how would you react? Put your shoulder to the wheel in the knowledge that you’ll be an immortal for your club forever? OR fuck off to South America and shamelessly try and pressure the directors to sack your boss. Fuck me it’s a wonder this shaven ape can play football he has balls that big. They must be at least the size of a set of space hoppers. He does more shady deals than an Iranian chemist.

And

There’s loads more but John Terry out-cunts them all. For that we really must salute him.

Ever wondered if this song you are listening to is a piece of shit?

Have you ever wondered in the song you're listening to is a piece of shit? Let's face it, it's something we've all done. Remember listening to theme of Titanic, or maybe the work of Mr Blobby, or more recently 'Fun' and 'their' 'hit' 'We are young'? It can be so hard separating the Vindaloos from the Kashmirs. But never fear, we here at the Sewing Circle are concerned for your aural health have compiled this cut out and keep guide. If the song you are listening satisfies any of the following criteria then you are, mon frère, listening to a cerifiable piece of shit.

1. The front man has “tattoos” that are removable put on for one of their videos.
2. Their biggest hit is described as a summer anthem.
3. The song has feat. in the title.
4. The song is in the top 10 of the UK charts for the last 5 years
5. They have ANY (however) remote connection to the X fucking Factor.
6. The song is a “mash up”
7. The lead singer is complemented on their vocal range
8. It’s made by a singer songwriter
9. The lead singer is a female
10. The song is pish
11. They spend more time in hair and make-up than the studio
12. They appear in Heat, Closer, 3am, etc.
13. None of the band have had a significant drug problem
14. They deliberately spell the title of their songs incorrectly
15. Make "gang" signs in their videos
16. Appear on the Graham Norton show
17. The genre of music you are listening to has the preface Euro i.e europop eurodance etc..
18. STOCK AITKEN WATERMAN
19. The bands origins come from a children’s cartoon
20. t4 were instrumental in the bands success.
21. They have conducted at least one gig at a beach.
22. They have been romantically connected to either:
    1. a boy/girlband member
    2. a Radio 1 "DJ" of any sex
23. They have been on Celebrity Juice
24. They have a line of clothing or a "fragrance"
25. They tweet
26. They are linked to the empty judges seats on BBCs the voice.
27. They've been rid by curly bap from one direction
28. Was a world cup song for England that wasn't made by new order especially Bell and Spurling
29. Lead singer has children named Apple and Moses 
30. They are an artist known for 'Constantly reinventing themselves.'

Munich: It's even worse than Speilberg said

German's continue their bleeding edge
quest to find ever more inventive and
diabolical means of torture.

Down the years Munich has been associated with a number of terrible memories. The birth of the Nazis, BMW, some football players stacking their Lear Jet and Jew hunting during the Olympics. Despite this I travelled there expecting great things. The under-rated cuisine, ruthless German efficency in the transport system and beer that would make you weep. 

As you touch down in Munich airport and head to the ticket machine for a train ticket you have your first interaction with the Bavarian State. A ticket machine so complicated that even our German host was unsure of the best ticket to purchase. She made this clear in a pre-arrival briefing email. Happily the machine has an English option but this does not circumnavigate the real problem. I stood at the machine for so long that you feel the eyes of the person behind bore into you. I then looked left and right and found my fellow travellers including Bavarian locals, united in their total dismay. No-one had a fucking clue what to buy. The travel tickets divided into 4 zones for the inner district of Munich, then outer zones which are labelled 1-16. I have no idea if the inner zones are included in the wider map. Tickets can be bought in strips, or singles, or partner tickets. Partner tickets are for groups of people varying from 3-7 people depending on the phases of the fucking moon apparently. They are also valid for a varying number of zones in the city too, the  combination of which is a random event. A third variable is added as they can be bought for multiple days. The strips of tickets you may think are one ticket for one journey.  Wrong, some journeys use two such tickets. Children depending on a variety factors may travel free, be stowed in luggage or charged double. Buying tickets is the equivalent of the German fruit machine. The result is utterly random and there is an 5% payout rate of correct tickets. In all my time in Munich I never saw a ticket inspector, I reason this is because they don't understand the system either and cannot authoratively check any given ticket. 

Have we got all that? Good, because if you fuck up its a 40 Euro fine, for which the authorities ask that you "spare them the hassle". I can best relate this system to Battle Royale where if your caught in the wrong sector at the wrong time, with the wrong amount of people, your fucked. 

Having decided 10 Euro was a safe amount to spend on travel, we collected our ticket and boarded the train. Munich is flat, very flat. How efficient. The journey into town is featureless farmland, from there your then met by factories spewing gas into the sky and then finally the city itself. The overwhelming impression your left with is that of mild indifference. The buildings are nothing remarkable. There is a plethora of new builds that clash violently with the old structures, Nothing appears remarkably old and there is nothing that really marks itself as particularly unique to Germany. Theres a tram system, a subway all of which work ok. The subway however is fairly infrequent and could have you waiting 10 mins or more for your tube. Its also worth nothing Munich has a population of 1.3 million so its by no means enormous. 

On arrival we had to kill some time and walked around looking at a number of drab grey streets. Its very clean, theres no street drinkers, everyone looks like they have a purpose and everyone seems calm and polite. Everyone drives consideratley and pedestrians ALWAYS wait till the green man appears. Its liking being on the set of Equilibrium. Its just so fucking dull. Day 1 was then written off. I'd been up at 3:20 to catch the plane so the rest of the evening was blown out. Went for a kip, got up and stumbled out for some grub at about 8pm.  

The food is the next issue that needs to be raised. There is a widely held assumption that the Germans eat nothing but sausages and pretzels and drink beer. This is closer to the truth than you imagine. They do a solid line in sausages it has to be said and may be world leaders in this respect. However the range of grub is about as imaginitive as your local hotel carvery in Northern Ireland in the early 90's. (Vegetable Soup, melon fan and coulis, garlic mushrooms....you remember the drill right?) Anyway there are two meats essentially. Sausage or roast pork. Roast pork is then covered in a gravy created using the French technique known as Bisto. On one of the more adventurous nights out my roast pork bisto was tarted up with raisins and silverskin pickled onions tossed in at the last minute. Giving neither item a chance to incorporate into a whole. It tasted exactly as you imagine, confused, ill conceived. Its the kind of recipe a 5 year old would think of if left to their own devices. This wasn't some back alley greasy spoon. This was in a 5 star hotel. The meat of choice is then accompanied by either a boiled spud or dumpling. Spuds are as you expect, however the dumplings usually come in a variety of promising guises. Apparently laced with everything from cheese to spinach. All of them taste like an unseasoned ball of PVA glue. Stick to spuds, you can't go wrong. The humble potato rarely falters. Vegetables outside this range are as rare as rocking horse shit and do not trouble the menus. Now, this may seem a good deal to some and I concsider myself to have the constitution of an Ox. However, 3 days of this food played fucking havoc with my guts. From the outside it felt like someone was laying foundations for a skyscraper in there. I was a sort of gastric Dresden. The lack of fibre means the "food" churns into a substace that straddles the divide between quick drying cement, tear gas and Kevlar. A one-a-day man was turned into a 3-a-day walking nerve agent. This would have been less of an issue if our hosts flat were not a one bedroom flat with walls that are made candyfloss. The master bedroom being adjacent to the bathroom. The orchestral accompaniment to the bathroom visits were not dis-similar to the finale of Tchiakovskys 1812 Overture, particularly the part where the cannons kick in. Teenie preferred the comparison of the firecrackers that acccompany Chinese New Year. In the interests of public decency I left these visits till late at night once all had done their ablutions. Little did I know the stillness of the night only served to highlight the thunderous cacophony from within. A point I was later advised of by Teenie. On at least one occassion our host walked straight in No Mans Land after a particularly raucous session,  into what firefighters would correctly describe as a backdraft. In this instance I will argue No Mans Land IS a proper noun.  

If you somehow survive the gastric onslaught of lunch and dinner you can always rely on breakfast to tip the balance. PRETZELS. In their own right a great thing, and far to superior to the poor imitations you may have tasted in the UK. Ideal at any time of day for mopping up beer or breakfast. They come studded with enough salt to paralyse a small mammal but are tasty as fuck, till you get halfway through. Then they get too much really. Whats left of your intestine will be dissolved by this and the strong coffee they all seem to drink. Not a decent drop of tea in sight. Our host at one point indicated the best German cuisine comes out of Austria. This is like saying you rob tramps for a source of evening wear. I feel you are now equipped to navigate the trauma of German food so I'll move on. 

During down time in the flat I took it upon myself to educate myself in the ways of German TV. I didn't know what to expect frankly. There is a pleothoroa of familiar horse shit on there. Come Dine with me, reailty TV containing mechnically reclaimed acting, Baywatch, property shows, das x factor. Its all there, the poor bastards suffer the same indignity as the rest of us. The A Team gets a top billing on a Sunday night however and this has to be applauded. This is the slot we usually reserve for such  as Heartbeat, or Martin Clunes' latest affront to decency. I struggled through Come Dine with Me twice understanding everything that took place without a word of German to my name. This included a particularly painful subplot in the celebrity episode where a boyband member went to great lengths to show how gay he was not. He was in fact a flaming homosexual in my opinion. Definitive proof that the show is aimed at the mentally feeble. 

During the stay we visited a number of sights but none that warrant an honourable mention. I have a distant picture of the Allianz Arena. Our host did all the talking and she being from some backwater in Bavaria experienced great difficulty in communicating with the city folk.  It must have been the equivalent of being lead round by a Clanger or Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. Their instant and overwhelming annoyance transcended the language barrier. This distinct lack of grace was repeated several times at various locations and suddenly I could see them all in their great coats with fixed bayonets again. They were forcing my pre-conceived notions back into view. What hope did a foreigner have in this hostile environment when natives were sneered at? Beneath the calm exterior lay the beating hearts of maniacs. One such food stall bloke was nearly apopleptic when asked to place the pork burger he had served in a roll as per convention.          

As a parting gift to our host I decided to put the bedding in the washing machine. A high minded gesture to show thanks for her hospitality. The machine was a top loader with the drum being orientated as per a normal front loader. Thus the drum had a metal panel that opened to allow access to the load. Not fully grasping the concept I bucked all in, added soap powder and closed the lid, hit go and left the rest to German engineering. What I had failed to do was close the access panel on the drum, merely closed the lid.  About ten minutes in the washing machine started to sound like a German Gabba Techno remix of Nine Inch Nails. I had in fact fucked the washing machine in spectacular fashion, destroying the drum and entombing the bedding in a soapy grave. What Bomber Harris had started I was determined to finish. A mistake that will now cost me 300 quid to repair international relations.    

After this there was nothing left to do but attempt one final epic shit and get on the train to the airport. The train in keeping with the rest of the day was 20 mins late. We arrived home last night and Teenie to her credit knocked up Rump Steak with a whisky/mushroom sauce, spuds and lots of greens. It was better than anything I ate, saw or even sniffed in Germany. Today I had a prodigous shit, it was like Spocks fucking funeral. A load has truely been lifted from me. 

In conclusion, Munchen is up there with Brisbane as far as Shit City Top Trumps are concerned. 

The End. 

Who are you wearing?

Again as the moneyed Zionist corporate juggernaut that is the business we call show sashayed its bloated, greedy manicured trotters down yet another red carpet, we are coming to an end to yet another (amazing?) awards season.

We've had the Brits, the Baftas, The Golden Globes, and now to cap it all off the daddy of them all in a shower of bastards, THE OSCARS! Woooooooooooo!

As the 'elite' (read rich) of Hollywood moved its way down the red carpet into yet another junkets of free stuff most people could only dream of owning (see this for a fucking laugh ), the same bloody question was uttered again and again by the permatanned sycophants and paid lackeys, who spend all their time on the wrong side of the rope while all the while silently loathing those up whose anus they have shoved (willingly) their tongues. Hollywood's sphincter is as clean as a supernova of brand new 50ps. 

This is Hollywood Baby where you too can see the pavements littered with gold........... sorry but I've been to Hollywood, and the streets where these stars sauntered into the Oscars are littered for the other 364 days of the year by people dressed as Darth Vader or Captain Fucking Jack Cunting Sparrow selling pictures for 10 bucks a pop.

Or Rats

Or Tramps

Hollywood can be summarised this way, look at HBO's Entourage (albeit a brilliant show just for Ari Gold). The premise of this show was simple-  a doe eyed fucking NooYoiker actor lands in Hollywood with his buddies and builds a life for himself. Jesus If it wasn't for Ari Gold's scenes this show would have been canned ages ago. Instead we have 8 series' of Vincent Chase either
a) fucking his co star reverse cowboy
b) fucking some bint he met in a shop reverse cowboy
c) blagging free shit (the product placement in this show can only be described as pornographic)
d) moping about his immense mansion because he doesn't have any of the above at that precise moment.

so either Entourage is criminally brilliant as a send up of Hollywood or the Caligula-esque summit on top of the showbiz mountain.

" so Madonna you look FAAAABBBULOUS! who are you wearing?"

" remember that kid I bought in Africa?"

What have the Brits ever done for us?

JESUS ADELE, YOU'VE LOST WEIGHT...
Adele, after her hydrochloric enema

Two or three things I have to get off my chest originating from the piece of televisual shit that is the Brit awards.

The Brit awards are never and have never been a show about good music as. They've always been a arse liking operation for the big record companies cash cows, Cowells musical atrocities and a monument to the

Radio 1 A list. 

We never have and never will relate to any of these vapid empty cunts they fall generally into three main categories:

Manufactured group types:

These mugs are trying to masquerade as legitimate music. Stuff like the loathsome JLS (jedward have more musical integrity), The wanted, Steps, S Club 7, il divo etc.  They ALWAYS win awards and sob like day old babies at their perceived "success" and "recoginition" NO! You're getting the equivalent of an employee of the month award from you're faceless fucking paymasters. They all deserve a hydrochloric enema.

Maudlin singer songwriter types:

This I have to say is the blight of the current era.  They existed long before this but have never been so heralded as they are at the moment. They have some talent they may write their own songs but they are every bit soulless, middle of the road and embarrassing as the manufactured groups. They're held up as "legitimate" but the intellectual bankrupcy of writing a trite song about love lost which is not taken from personal experience and is written on a purely fiscal basis is as bad as the manufactured fuckheads.

I hate all of these cunts intensely.

• Adele lardy cunt fucks off her boyfriend and whines about it. Where do you get the fuck off?? 
  
• Ed Sheeran Standard bedwetter he scores 8 ricicoles on the Damien Rice maudlin scale
• Jessie J Talks about it "not being about the money" whilst charging for her single warbles FAR more than is needed.
• Katy Perry overplayed bollocks

Fading or legitimate bands:

These guys usually always win the lifetime achievement award OR there's a well regarded yank doing the headline.  The people who can actually play, but hopefully, like Cliff Richard, they're dying inside.

There are loads of good bands both today right up until we were kids you'll just never see them at these events unless they fall into the final category there'll be...

No Iggy and the Stooges.  No classic Bowie spiders from mars fame. No Arcade Fire. No Interpol. No Pogues. No Smiths. No Therapy. No Nine Inch Nails. No Pixies. No Smashing Pumpkins. No Johnny cash. No Def Lepard. No Maiden, etc.