Sepptoe And Son.

Mr Sepp Blatter you an old idiotic man, a senile fool. Just like all people of your outrageous age, you have lost all your marbles and spout strange bizarre statements which make no sense other than to your addled mind.

You have also become fat in your hideous old age and look horrible when sitting down in a seat that sinks horribly low when you plonk your huge arse into it.

I am sure when you take your hot chocolate to bed at night you hope for a long peaceful sleep. But of course that is never going to happen because of your aged bladder which sees you having to get up countless times at night. Also as you have little control over your bodily functions, most of your piss ends up running down your leg. This explains why as an old person you smell of it as you go about your confused business by day.

You are also a dirty old man in mind too. Ogling over the nubile lady football players who at your behest should be wearing oh so tight tops and shorty shorts so that you can see as much shape as possible. Sadly due to your obscene age, none of this helps you to get it up as it lays there in a shrivelled state.

However you are confident in your sexuality and are always alert for anyone who might be slightly queer and likely to break out into rampant sex at any opportunity. You of course keep you hands behind your back so not to be taken by surprise at any moment and keep you cataract prone eyes on them at all times if they look a bit iffy.

I could of course bring up how you like all them black people so much as well as I state my case, but like all old people given power like you that they really don't have a clue what to do with it, you continue to make that solid case on your own. This is of course when you are not busy storing all them brown envelopes in that cupboard of yours.

We can all look on the bright side though and see that you will soon be dead, I mean what are you now? 95?


I mean no disrespect with the above piece. It was written in the heat of my writing my blog and these things occur when tensions are high. It means nothing at all and will of course all be forgotten when I get to shake your calloused hand...

My New Best Friends.

I would like to introduce you all to my new best friends, they are Dave and Angela Dawes.

They don't know that I am their best friend yet as I am only just writing a letter to introduce myself, but why on earth would they not like to be my friend?

I have so much to offer them with my sparkly personality, and I mean what do they have to offer me from their lives? I mean what could possibly be interesting from them winning £101 million?

For brightening their lives up, I would be happy to take a few pounds of holiday, house and fast moving sports car from them. They are the ones in the win win situation here with me as their friend.

And of course they are going to need some help to get the weight of that money out of their bank accounts. That kind of money is an uncontrollable force, creating over £10,000 interest a day, and I am more than happy to help them control it. Only a premiership footballer would be unhappy with that kind of money.

So, I appeal directly to my new friends. Counteract all those nasty negative newspaper headlines that you are already getting and present a wad of that money to a complete stranger, and of course that complete stranger needs to be me, as your new bestest, bestest buddy...

Trouble At Farm.

So the battle for Dale Farm begins. Like some apocalyptic battle from the movies and on a film budget the bailiffs move in to rid the evil from the green belt.

Pretty much everyone has a side on this, there is no one sitting on the fence on this. Especially as they don't have planning permission to sit there.

And planning permission is the main point with all this, the travellers on the illegal site reckon that they are being persecuted, akin to Jews during the war. Failing to see the point that if they are decent law abiding citizens like they keep telling us they are they would not have built illegally in the first place. It also seems to be the case that these travellers are now like W.H. Smith's and have become stationers.

So for all their kind heartedness that the travellers proclaim, they are more than happy to live in a illegal building, and watch as eighteen million pound is spent at council tax payers expense. That is the way to get onside with the public ain't it. They are at this time their own worst enemies.

Then you have rent a mob who now apparently out number the illegal travellers on site. People that are apparently onside with all these, unless their neighbour was to start building some monster of a building in their back yard and then they might see what the travellers are doing in a different light.

However I am sure it will all end happily in the end with bits of body strewn across the farm and a military airstrike to end the battle.

In the meantime I think the builder who is erecting a ten floor block of flats in my garden to make me a bit of money wants another cup of tea, so I shall have to depart now.

Misty The Cat: The End.

A Small Mind is today in pieces as he said a fond farewell to Misty after fourteen and a half years.

Now as you all know a small mind is one tough guy, a man. However he has to admit that today he cried, more than he has ever cried before. No humans death, no matter how close, has made him cry more. And I have to wonder why? Why is it that some of us share such a bond with our animals?

I think perhaps that generally they are pretty much always on your side. No matter how much love you get from a human, there is always going to be the bad days. Animals however just give and give, even when some people do such horrific things to them, they always still seem happy. You see these miserable sights of animals having been treated so cruelly and yet they still want attention and fuss.

Humans however very much have moods and there is always a bad day. Animals may well get grumpy, but it never impacts on their love for their owner and that is probably why some people get on better with their pets than their relations.

So the end of an era for a small mind as old Misty moves on and I am left to remember the good days. Farewell puss.

Track And Field Of Nightmares.

Yesterday saw the end of the World Athletics Championships and hopefully the end of Channel 4 involvement. What once was a solid presentation with little irritation from the BBC was supposedly given a hip new face of the future.

This turned out to be a unmitigated disaster with a succession of helpless individuals presenting, commentating and doing whatever.

A small mind was thankful to only have seen the highlights presentation, but he is very thankful even for this. Presented by a man with the presence and vitality of a cardboard cutout Rick Edwards was a horror in vision. Presenting in a monotone to camera with the dregs of so-called witty comments. Channel 4 must have realised their mistake as as the week went on we saw less and less of the failure and interestingly more highlights. It might catch on.

As for the highlights, the sport was good the presentation less so. First we had John Rawling commenting, commenter of all sports, master of none. Rob Walker, once a compere at the snooker and now an expert on athletics who failed to get to the end of any race with his voice still working, and then a succession of those in the know, former sports stars. Dean Macy, Ewan Thomas and Katherine Merry, good on the track and field (well so-so), but a dreary presence in the commentary box. The only fly in the ointment for Channel 4 in having a total disaster was Michael Johnson, an insightful person with interesting things to say and the only true survivor from the BBC presentation. He must have wondered what godforsaken planet he had landed on having to shake Dick, sorry Rick Edwards hand at the end of every highlights show.

So all this without even mentioning the one disaster Channel 4 were happy to admit to, letting Gadget Show presenter Ortis Deley in front of a live camera and an autocue that was apparently unreadable.

What about the sport though you cry, well not bad, a few miserable failures as always for Britain, and not a lot boding well for 2012, but well done to Dai Green, Hannah England, Jessica Ennis, Mo Farah and all the others that Ortis has forgotten...

Here some kind soul has made a video of good old Ortis, poor lad. Get back behind Suzi and Jason dear before its too late...

Another Brick In The Wall.

So another year of GCSE results arrive and once again an increase in passes occurs. The twenty-third year in a row in fact. So we live in an age of super intelligence with the world at the young peoples feet.

Or maybe not. Lack of jobs with an increase in qualification now means these results are not worth the paper they are printed on. It matters not if you have 47 A* GCSE passes or are now the holder of a first in Tentradoodlydadumolgy the chances of getting a job are severely reduced. Therefore with tuition fees rising to the stratosphere it is likely the future shall see less of the education and more of attempting to move straight into work as a career.

This has already hit home with those finishing their A levels mostly heading straight to university and missing (THE HORROR!) their gap year, when supposedly they do worthy or life affirming things, rather than having a good old jolly wandering around the world. Is that the sound of baying, pitchfork wielding students at the door?

However, passes are way up, and the youth of today are infinitely more intelligent than poor old Small Mind, who failed miserably at GSCE and managed a high of just a C so is therefore less intelligent than all people younger than him.

Therefore as an official (but not currently abroad) idiot I perhaps shall no longer preach about anything and shall slope off and go rioting like the rest of us neanderthals...

Oh Brother, Who Art Thou?

What do these people have in common?
Tara Reid, Sally Bercow, Jedward, Kerry Katona, Lucien Laviscount, Bobby Sabel, Darryn Lyons, Amy Childs, Paddy Doherty and Pamela from Baywatch.
The answer: they are all celebrities. Yeah, right...

So here we are again just ten seconds after the Big Brother house was axed forever, it is back, on Channel 5. No screaming Davina though, just Brian "not famous at all, just happened to win this programme and may as well do as hosting this god forsaken programme" Dowling.

So in no particular order let't look at the freaks, I mean "celebrities".

Tabloid explosion Kerry Katona was always going to be in their from the start seemingly, a cheap version of the out of control and never ever ever ever going to be in their Charlie Sheen. Dropped into the house purely to cause controversy as is the want of this hideous show.

Now Darryn Lyons, obviously no one has heard of simply because even in the outer extremities of celebrity he doesn't exist. Reason being because he takes god damn pictures of them celebrities. I mean what the hell?

Lucien Laviscount, nope no idea *wanders off to Google (other search engines are available, but don't bother using them)* Now, I think Google is not sure who he is either, such is the horror of these celebs. However he is a superstar of Waterloo Road and Coronation Street (who isn't?) apparently, so all is good.

Now Paddy Doherty and Amy Childs I shall deal with together simply because it will get them over with quicker. Much is the increasing horror of television is that you now become a celebrity because you have been on another reality show and here we have two more entities from such shows. Nobodies who should never have been anybody and now like Amy, they are even coming from reality shows which are not even reality shows. Where will it end? I have no idea, but I hope I ain't there when it does.

Bobby Sabel, nope no idea and this time can't be bothered to Google.

Jedward! Please god NO! However sadly yes. Famous for less than nothing and that is overstating the case.

Tara Reid. There to no doubt reveal the surgically enhanced chest area.

Now while talking about chests, we have Pamela from Baywatch!. But no, not the Pamela from Baywatch. This Pamela from Baywatch was in fourteen episodes and is the former wife of the Hoff. I mean fourteen episodes, if I had fell asleep on the beach among the bouncing breasts I would have been in more episodes.

Finally, thank god, we have Sally Bercow, the publicity seeking wife of the speaker of the house. All we can hope for is that she gets all dirty on the infra-red cameras and the old man stands up in the house and shouts "ORGY! ORGY!"

However, there we have it a collection of celebs who are no doubt less famous that those incoming ones to the "normal" Big Brother will become.

As a side note to Channel 5, no live feed I see. Not really Big Brother is it when all you have is carefully edited highlights that the producer wants you to see.

Time to bulldoze the place with the creatures still in their...

Some Sentences On Sentences.

So as it all appears quiet on the riot front, the fallout begins on the sentences for the perpetrators of the chaos. What is too long a sentence for these, and what perhaps more importantly is too short?

Yesterday the passing of four years for inciting disorder on Facebook that did not even happen seems to have been a  huge catalyst for major discussion of the length of sentencing. Perhaps this is indeed too long, but only in relation to others that are being passed.

Last week on a radio discussion show, a serving officer expressed his huge disappointment over a sentence given and very rightly so. Having travelled to assist in policing the riots, he had been involved in the capture of a youth making off with items from a shop and having arrested him, they rightly believed that in the thick of the action and perpetrating a crime he would have a correct sentence passed upon him. In the event, the courts were doing extra hours and his case was heard very quickly. Next day in fact, and his sentence? One day, and as he had served it, he was released back into the community.

Then we hear of the case of Nicolas Robinson, charged with stealing water worth £3.50 from a Lidl. His sentence? Six months, with a minimum of three months in custody.

Total confusion is reigning across the sentencing of these offenders, simply because the judges pretty much don't know how to handle them. With nothing in the history books for such things, each individual judge is seemingly just making his opinion.

No one is thinking they should be let off lightly, in fact most want the book thrown at these worthless criminals. However that book needs to be reliable across the board and must not be altered to the whim of each judge.

It is true that the 1843 sentencing guidelines are not totally reliable with regard inciting disorder on Facebook, but a level playing field needs to be made so that those guilty get the correct sentence and not some knee jerk reaction sentence.

The Little Old Lady: Tears.

The little old lady sits in her armchair with tears in her eyes.
The sun has set and the television crackles bright lights across her room.
The lights that crackle from the screen come from flames as another building burns.
An explosion comes from the speaker as a car blows up and makes the little old lady tremble with shock.
The little old lady is glad that she left the big city over fifty years ago.
She watches as the area she grew up in goes up in flames and more tears well in her eyes.
The little old lady remembers her husband for a moment.
Always remembering him at emotional times.
Lost just three years ago and it still hurts so.
But she wonders whether it was best he is not around to hear of this horror.
He was a brave and honourable man.
He gave his sight to the fight for freedom.
The freedom of these people that she sees on the screen now.
Another tear runs down her face and she quietly sobs.
The little old lady wonders what is wrong with these people.
They have so much now, so much more than she ever had when she was their age.
She has always hated preaching to young people, but time was so hard when she was young.
The terror on the streets came from the skies in those days.
Not from your neighbours, the living blood of the country.
Why, just why are they doing it?
She shakes again with quiet rage and tears begin to stream once more.
A man is talking on the television about someone being pulled from their car.
A woman, alone in her car.
Torn from it and watching in horror as they set it alight and laugh.
A lone women unable to protect herself and these evil people care nothing for her.
Another building flashes up on screen and another business burns.
More jobs gone.
More livelihoods destroyed.
Smoke rises across London and the little lady cries her heart out.

The Murdoch Select Committee Meeting In Full With Pie.

The full uncut version of the Select Committee featuring Rupert and James Murdoch, with Louise Mensch nee Bagshawe, Karate Deng, The Pie Flinger Of Old London Town and Inspector Plod Of The Yard.

The L Word.

Now A Small Mind has a confession to make. Due to the shear number of messages that he has received in the last couple of days, he has come to consider that anonymity is not going to be a option. I did not wish to come forward with the news because of the inevitable demands from all of you, despite the fact that I cannot provide. Due to an unfortunate set of circumstances A Small Mind has been unsuccessful.

Therefore for all of you asking for photos of the lesbians romping in a park close to A Small Minds residence, I really am afraid that I cannot provide them. Despite being ten minutes from the location of hot lesbian action, I had the misfortune of not being a big beady eye on the spot. Sorry.

Also in other news, with the winner having come forward and to be announced this afternoon, I can also confirm that I have not won £161 millions pounds in the Lottery draw the other night.

Sadly due to a clerical error, also known as forgetfulness, A Small Mind did not even have an entry in the draw. Despite this slight problem, I was more than happy to dream of the various items I could do with the winnings.

Wine and women would of course be the obvious first, however I am clear in the fact that the latter of those two is currently not a problem at this time. As A Small Mind is a full and ready man with the ladies at his heals, usually doing unmentionable things.

However, what else to buy. Well when you have money that is making £10 interest every minute what can you not buy? A Chelsea football player perhaps, but other than that, everything could be yours. I may however draw the line at one of those pug ugly paintings that are currently the in-thing. If I wanted to see some freaky monstrosity with eyes in the wrong place and a vertical mouth, all I need do is look in the mirror.

So items of choice: cars, women, holidays, houses, more women, a pogo stick, some women, a hitman for Simon Cowell, News International, a boat, Rebekah Brooks, an island, Emma Watson, a space flight, Kylie Minogue, an unhackable PlayStation 3, Fearne Cotton, a Tardis, a pair of X-Ray glasses, Maria Sharapova, a copy of Windows that actually works, a bed big enough for six people, some fine wine, and finally a private investigator to find those lesbians and get some private viewings and pics for you dirty people.

How To Treat A Verruca.

An unfortunate medical complaint on the sole of the foot. A verruca is, although sometimes prolonged in treatment, easily fully removed.

There are however different forms of verrucae and these therefore need correct treatment.

If your verruca has an appearance similar to this:

Then standard over the counter treatment at a chemist would suffice. Salicylic acid is the usual treatment for this although treatment itself must be carefully done to avoid healthy skin areas as this can damage this severely.

Please be aware that the treatment for this although almost always successful can be long at times and frustrating.

However although that is a standard verrucae, there is also a more extreme form which needs more radical treatment.

If you verruca has an appearance identical to the following, please follow the advice following the image.

This is known as the Lesser seen Rebekah Brooks Verruca or its Latin name of Malum veneficus. There is currently only one known form of treatment for this and although it is undoubtedly an extreme method, all medical practitioners, including the renowned Doctor Rupert Murdokus of the Melbourne Institute agree that it is the only course of treatment.

If you find yourself the victim of this medical emergency, head straight to your local hospital immediately where the doctors will swiftly diagnose this extreme situation and amputate your leg.

It's A Kind Of Magic.

So A Small Mind has got his wand out again and is waving it all about. Hopefully also this will be the first time of doing without Police intervention.

The reason for this wand waving is all about Harry Potter And The Adventures Of His Last Film. Now A Small Mind has a confession to make at this point, he is not really that excited about this final film launch. Even more of a confession, he has not even seen any of the Harry Potter films, despite ITV seeming to show them with such frequency that they have got old James Bond worried about his domination.

However I am fully admiring of the fact that the Harry Potter franchise has managed to achieve world domination despite not having any endorsements from me. Also it is nice that so much money has fell so gracefully into J. K. "Potters of money" Rowling's purse.

The global phenomenon has been observed from a discreet distance therefore by A Small Mind and he has observed over the years the press reporting of the films. Everything from Daniel Radcliffe literally waving his wand about on stage in Equus, to the delectable Emma Watson's short cut hair debacle.

Everything has been revealed for the continued money making machine. However what now? When you have finished an epic adventure and found that damn ring or whatever is the relevant issue in Potters films, what is there left to do.

Does old Radcliffe get forever typecast as a boy wizard, only to return to fame in ten years time as an out of work wizard in the latest Ricky Gervais vehicle. Does Emma have to get her kit off just to shed her young stardom, just like Anne Hathaway. Well the latter A Small Mind is happy to confirm he is more than willing to see.

A Small Mind however is more suspicious that despite hundreds of pages of text and hundreds of minutes of film, we are unlikely to have really seen the end of Harry Potter from the world. No doubt we shall one day see Harry Potter And The Middle-Aged Spread at our local cinemas.

Finally Over The Hill.

A Small Mind has been watching with interest the news about Andrea "Money Bags" Hill, the now "removed" Suffolk County Council chief executive. On gardening leave since Easter due to an alleged complaint over bullying and harassment. After a prolonged analysis of the case, as only government/council bodies can do. Andrea Hill was cleared of that bullying issue.

However she leaves, but why? No real reason given for why she has been removed, and of course they shouldn't need to give a reason should they. Its not as if the lady with the salary £75,000 more than the Prime Minister, is paid for by the public is it. Oh sorry she was, silly me. However the hard working Suffolk residents don't need to know it would seem.

Mrs Hill had been in the spotlight sometime due to her impressive wage and Eric "ate all the" Pickles had been demanding she take a wage cut in these austere times. Especially as we were all in it together and £218,000 a year was perhaps rubbing it in a bit for those fighting for their jobs in the real world.

However Mrs Hill refused and was after all in the job to save the council money and paying her the wonderful outlandish amount would in the long term save the council money. Sadly it did not as she rested in a £205 hotel room which probably had more than a trouser press and coffee machine for an important conference.

Even upon her leaving for whatever reason the council saw, the members of the public paying their council tax can have a further slap in the face as she takes £218,592 compensation. Nice compensation if you can get it for getting allegedly sacked it would seem.

Interestingly speaking on Anglia Tonight, Councillor Mark Bee, Leader of Suffolk County Council said that the £218,592 was "very reasonable" and "an acceptable level". Interesting words that this is acceptable and it was nice for him to add that "it still feels a lot of money". He ain't kidding is he.

Anyway as Andrea drives away in her Mercedes, A Small Mind would like to state that he is more than happy to offer his services to Suffolk County Council. I am not sure of my abilities to do the job really, but I am sure that we can come to some sort of arrangement when you sack me.

That David Haye Interview Transcript In Full.

I feel ok physically. You know I took a few shots, I let a few more in than I normally do. But that's boxing, there's two champions in the ring. You're gonna take some punishment, You look at both of our faces, we're both a bit beaten up. There were some big exchanges thrown.


Wladimir boxed the perfect fight. He used his size and reach. I wasn't able to land my attacks as I'd like to. The reasons for that, partly the reason for that is that he's got very good defence and he moves back a lot. Erm, I definitely feel the majority of the reason, and I hate it when boxers make excuses after the fight, it makes me sick. Erm, but I broke my toe three weeks ago and there was no way i was going to pull out of this fight. Its one of those things that happens in training, you get injuries.


Wladimir might have broke his toe for all I know, when I stood on it. However that is another of the reason for me losing.


Also there were these guys in the front row who were really shouting mean things at me. When I say really mean, I mean really mean. They were commenting about the blouse I wore during the weigh-in, and the way I stood with my hands on my hips. They really were mean.


Also another reason was that I hurt my thumb opening a bag of sherbut dips last night and it really, really hurt when I put my glove on earlier. It was excruciating and I think anyone would have had trouble opening that bag of sweets. That plastic is really tough stuff. So many things are really difficult to get open these days. I mean the other day I had to take a jar of strawberry jam round to my eighty-three year old neighbour because I couldn't open it. When I left I did say I must have loosened it though.


Another reason for me losing was that there were some hot girls in the front row and I thought that I was in with a chance with at least one of them, so I kept giving them the eye. I know I should have been watching Wladimir, and that was probably the reason I didn't see that one coming. But there was no need for them girls to laugh at me like that and call me a big girl. It was very hurtful and put me off for the rest of the fight.

Also, during the fight I felt a little blister coming out on my other foot. The foot without the broken toe. Did I mention the broken toe? Oh, right I did. Anyway, blisters can be a real pain can't they and it was very distracting. I mean, how can someone fight if they know that later on while watching Emmerdale they are going to have to pop a blister?


Anyway, they were all the reasons for me losing, and I don't want any of you wimpy journalists writing nasty things about me making all these excuses or you may make me cry at my next press conference.

Strike For A Fight.

So a small mind today resides in a country hit by a strike. Civil servants and teachers have come out in rightful protest over alterations to their pensions because they are apparently not sustainable. Much like I am sure that the MP's and council chief execs pensions are "not sustainable".

However they of course are in charge and are more than happy not to be all in it together. Mr Cameron and his cronies are all very comfortable in assuring that their existence will be comfortable when they retire. Which for them I am sure will be the right side of 65 if they wish it.

So across the country the unemployed shall remain unemployed for today. The learning to drive will remain that way for a further day. And the to be educated will be uneducated for today. All rightfully so, as they need to make their point to those in charge, albeit no doubt totally ignored as the likes of George Osborne sits in the Wimbledon Royal Box enjoying the jolly old tennis, as the teachers march in the streets to try to ensure that they can retire while they are still above the ground.

However old David Cameron and Michael Gove had a plan to keep the schools open for today, so that those parents weren't inconvenience by those evil scum going out on strike. Bright idea? Those parents can go in and look after all the kiddies that those evil teachers don't want to teach. The very essence of David Cameron's Big Society, get somebody to do something you should be paid for, for free. After all those peasants ain't got no money, so they can't be doing anything else with their time can they? The most they would be doing it downing another beer from the supermarket or eating a pizza in front of Jeremy Kyle. Let them do something worthwhile with their miserable lives.

There was also a glorious distinction between our two leaders because of todays strikers. Jolly old chap David Cameron's children were going to be OK today, because what oh chaps, their school was going to be open. However Nicky Clegg was going to have to keep the kiddies at home because their school was closed. Another slap in the face for old Cleggy.

However a small mind has had one wonderful perk from this schools being closed lark. Upstanding citizen of the neighbourhood that I am, I am providing day care for a number (not really sure how many) of 5 to whatever year olds at the rather special offer of only £50 each for the day. And of course I am a totally responsible person to look after, how ever many, kids I am currently looking after. Whether they destroy all the furniture in the process, matters not as I am a member of the big society (not working free though, don't forget Cameron) and love to help out my community for just a small fee.

However I feel I may need to stop writing at this time as I am sure I can smell burning from downstairs and I suppose I better go and check. Toodle pip.

Maria Sharapova - Grunt Force One!

Well, of course Maria made it onwards. I shall enjoy seeing and hearing her again...

Grunt Force One.

So the second week of play arrives at Wimbledon and thankfully a small mind's secret lover Maria Sharapova is still on court grunting as much as when she was last in my bedroom. She really was a great help moving that wardrobe...

However Wimbledon, place of extortionate strawberries and doomed British players is a wonderful place of toffs mixing with peasants. Where the peasants lay untidily on Henman Hill/Murray Mound/Murray Field, and the toffs sip their Pims and eat the aforementioned strawberries.

However against the odds old Murray has made it into the second week again and has as much chance as any previous British competitor of winning the competition. Today he needs to blow a Gasket out of the competition and I am sure that that won't be a problem. Another plus for the population is that as he is first on court, those Eastenders fans won't have to stretch for their remote and change to BBC2 ('What the hell is that?' they cry).

The other men of course is where the winner shall no doubt come and as long as Nadal gets past the man from Del Monty, I am sure he shall be favourite come Sunday.

But that is far too much talk about men, the women are where it is at. When not moving wardrobes, old Maria is providing the visual and audio candy and I am sure that today she will comfortably make it past Peng Pong (time of writing one set up. Go MARIA, GO).

The Williams sisters of course may have something to say as always at Wimbledon, but hopefully more daintiness is in order than the brute force they present.

Finally world number one, who hasn't won anything important, Caroline Wozniacki has all the requirements for the eye candy, but is missing something in the grunt department and that for me is the important area.

Not So Bouncy Bouncy.

Sadly a small mind shall not be attending the beach volleyball at next years Olympics. As a connoisseur of the sport rather than those leching old guys who shall no doubt populate the crowds this is a travesty.

Having followed the sport since hitting puberty, I know the game, the whole ins and outs. I have studied every game painstakingly and since the arrival of high definition even more so. Slow motion coupled with the crisp HD has provided great insights for me in my love of the most valued of sports.

Where for some the thrill of a footballer falling to the floor in epileptic strains after a slightest touch from a player provides thrills. Where seeing brawny men grabbing each others crotches as they grapple it out in the scrum hits the spot. For me, the toned, the suntanned, and highly skilled young ladies in their ever so tiny outfits, jumping and bouncing as they stretch and reach and rise for the ball provides it for me.

The sweat that streaks their lithe bodies, and as the sand sticks to them in certain places, can provide no greater thrill. The moments where they sort out that unfortunate wedgie, which the camera man so happens to be able to catch are for me the greatest that sport has to offer.

They use such skill and energy in this most fit of fitness pursuits, that only the truly fit can partake in. Such a build-up of pressure during the games that at their end, I can only imagine what relief and pleasure they take from their group showers following the matches.

However, there is a pressing matter now that I need to deal with...

A Small Mind In A Big City: Privates On Parade.

A Small Mind was all agog at what he found as he made his way to Hyde Park Corner. A mass of people gathering around the base of the naked Achilles Statue were, were... I peered over the shoulder of a crowd of people and took my camera out to get the evidence.

Happy to offer two hands.

I looked for someone with red hands and although there lurked a rather creepy guy who tended to fidget in the wrong areas and sure wanted to have red hands, I could not find any.

Creepy guy at two o'clock.

Anyway what I had stumbled upon was the painting and preparation area for what was an unusual, but worthy protest. The London Naked Bike Ride was a continuation of a regular event first held in Spain in 2001, later becoming a world event in 2004, with the first London ride that year.

The painting of bodies was of course optional, but there was many very impressive works on display.

The main protest over the years has been environmental, with the point of human power instead of fuel power saving the planet. This years main subject was around the safety of bike riders on the roads. Although this was the main reason for riders taking part, there were other reasons closer to their hearts.

Lets have a brief interlude with another appearance of creepy guy getting a good look.

Although the Naked Bike Ride was predominantly about biking, there were other forms of human power on offer. Some brave souls seemed to be just running once the event started, which gave everything a good shake. While others were equally free, like this young lady who went the inline skate way.

However, no matter how noble the reason for taking part was. The nakedness was where it was all at, now was not the time to be shy.

It was time to let it all hang out and then everything would be peachy.

Some sights were as alarming as when a small mind passes by a full length mirror in his birthday suit.

While others were really happy to let it all hang out and not distress any eyeballs in the process.

Overall however the event was a pleasant surprise. In theory there is nothing stranger than seeing people parading naked around Hyde Park, but the situation was calm and relaxed. There was no doubt people were there for their nefarious interests. but that was worth forgetting for the reasons that those taking part were there for. They were clear what they were doing, what they were showing off, and the very personal reasons, whether they global or close to home. There is nothing starker than revealing everything for a cause you believe in. Perhaps you could say that they are exhibitionists, maybe. However there are many more creepier ways of doing that than taking part in a protest like this.

I came away from the whole event refreshed and happy, not repulsed, and also did not feel like I had experienced the event like some big turn on. It was certainly one of the strangest sights I have ever seen, and while still not one of Prince Philip's bunny huggers, I could see where they were coming from. Whether a small mind removes his pants for the next event however, remains to be seen.

A bloggy note: The images above I have censored so that first and foremost the nudity was not in your face on this blog, and secondly because although this was of course a naked event, the etiquette was not always to snap away in the body painting area. Indeed some taking part were requesting that photos were not taken at this point, which unfortunately many ignored. The policy of the event however was very much for the ride, once it had started to be filmed and snapped for the promotion of the event, therefore the video that now follows is a good part of the ride as it left Hyde Park, and of course this contains nudity. As you watch, remember why they were taking part.

A Small Mind In A Big City: Science Jim, But Not As We Know It.

A Small Mind had decided to make his educational stop the Science Museum. Not having visited this museum for over fifteen years, I was fully expecting quite an alteration. And quite a change it was indeed. Most of the old items of interest however were still there including the Apollo capsule.

There were however many new items on display, including a projected globe which with a voice-over offered many hideous pieces of information about how we are helping to change the planet.

Also on display was a projection of the items we have sent into space.

Crap in Space.

Spread over six floors the Science museum was much larger than I remembered it and now housed a 3D cinema with various films like Deep Sea exploration and flying to the moon.

There was also a rather harrowing (just watching) 360 Red Arrow flight sim. They packed up to two people into a title housing, locked it and spun you like crazy. Enough to make you sick just watching, a small mind, although a very tough guy of course, made a run for it.

Launchpad was on the same floor and this was an outrageous kiddies playground, therefore lots of adult were having tremendous fun. This area was designed to create education through fun and very impressive it was. Everything was on offer from creating strange shadows, wave making, and launching a rocket just by twisting a handle very quickly. There were shrills of delight around, although it was unclear how much was being understood and educated from these experiments. However they were having fun and technically learning something and this is quite often the best way. A very clever area and well worth a visit, if only to play like a kiddie and have an excuse for it.

There was also an area of the museum just containing a collection of transport through the ages:

A section also featured the future technologies with the most interesting item being the prospect of future cycling helmets being made out of cardboard!

The final top floors left a small mind almost on his own in the exhibitions. These top floors offered medical and veterinary history with snapshots through the years offering how various medical environments looked. Those one hundred years back were probably what we were heading back to in anticipation of all the cuts.

However my tour of the Science Museum was at an end and an education and pleasure it had been, and I set off back across Hyde Park and took a picture of some hot chicks on my way.

However across the park something more interesting was developing and a small minds mind was about to boggle.

To be continued...

A Small Mind In A Big City: Hyde And Seek.

Leaving St. James' Park, a small mind headed off in search of Buckingham Palace. This he found upon arrival was as always a throng of tourists, more so due to the special day.

Well, although the crowds could well have turned out for me, this was alas not the case so I left the Queen and Prince Philip to the tourists and made off towards Hyde Park.

Hyde Park Corner beckoned and also the chance of getting run over by a good old London bus, which sadly wasn't bendy.

Now a small mind is not one for dancing in the flowers, however he made special effort in observing the glories of The Rose Garden as he patrolled across the park.

Next stop on my tour was The Serpentine, a huge 28-acre lake created in 1730. Sadly the name had not come from a Nessie like creature living in its depths, but rather the sinister snake like shape that it forms.

The final stop before heading off for an education saw me sneaking into Kensington Gardens to observe the Albert Memorial and the Royal Albert Hall. I have since learnt that this memorial is not in honour of Uncle "During the War" Albert and actually in memory of the consort to Queen Victoria.

Without doubt you learn something everyday and a small mind turned on his heel with that purpose in mind and headed off down Exhibition Road.

To be continued...

A Small Mind In A Big City: St. Stephen's to St. James

Big Ben, AKA St. Stephen's Tower stood proud before me as we rejoin a small minds London trip. Making my way around the back I finally hit what would be the first of significant crowds during the day. Once behind Westminster the first prominent location to view other than the historical landmarks was the Anti-War protesters, in place since 2001.

Perhaps a futile protest after all these years, but following the vast costs involved as we endlessly cut jobs and close hospital wards, perhaps worthy also.

Next impressive view was Westminster Abbey where sadly a small mind was not recently invited to a wedding or some such that had recently been held there.

Before leaving the area around Westminster in search of parks, a small mind looked back across the grass area that many a news report has come from over the years, and also looked longingly upon further protesters tents.

St. James Park awaited around the corner and this was the first sighting of Lord Snooty and his merry men and ladies. Now a small mind is far from common, but he was alarmingly surprised to find himself surrounded by people talking in search a way to make our dear old Queen sound common. Gathering fast and clutching their precious tickets, armies of people dressed to the nines surrounded me. Their destination: Horse Guards Parade ready for the Queen's birthday celebrations.

I have always sadly been a have-not rather than those that surrounded me at this time, but it was a pleasure to mix with them, all be it briefly, as there was most certainly some top totty on display for a small mind to feast his eyes upon.

However although I have no axe to grind against the monarchy as I await my inevitable Knighthood, I was not here for them. I was here to explore the big city. Therefore I turned on my heel and made off across St. James Park.

Here in the park, I gazed upon what surely could and should have been my garden...

... and found some more hot birds.

To be continued...

A Small Mind In A Big City: Arrival

A small mind had a very refreshing and relaxing Saturday in the big city. As was planned before, the weather was perfect and the crowds kept their distance.

Arriving at the capital at about 8.15am, I was promptly removed of 30p to have a pee in Euston station. Note to self for future visits: Urinate on train before arrival, unless we are now in a world where Ryanair are into train travel. As tweeted however the 30p was enhanced by the first experience of the glorious Dyson Airblade Hand Dryer. An impressive device which had the added advantage over most hand dryers of drying your hands, as well as not removing skin.

A quick video demonstrating the Airblade:

I was able to get to the Embankment before the crowds had arrived in full swing. The experience on the Underground was once again a pleasure in the early weekend morning, which at this time included a complimentary seat! The only problem as always was there was more wind in the tunnels than me after a curry.

However I looked out across the Thames at the London Eye at 8.50am:

And listened to the bongs of Big Ben on the hour:

To be continued...

A Tweeting Day Out.

Tomorrow a small mind will be travelling, keep an eye on my Twitter feed for something, don't really know what.

http://twitter.com/asmallmind

The Road To Un-Ruins.

The local highway men are currently dealing with a small mind's local road problems. These highway men are not to be confused with Dick Turpin and his ilk, although working on behalf of the local council, it is understandable for this misunderstanding to occur.

However they are working hard on the local pot holes to make the journey a smoother one. This is sadly causing certain problems for a small mind with his having to re-home his gold fish which had happily been living in one of the aforementioned pot holes, safely protected behind three "borrowed" road cones.

As is the councils want in these austere times they are doing the work on a budget and rather that repairing the roads fully, they are patching with obvious joins and feeble in completion evident. Much akin to old Rooney's hair as mentioned in a previous blog.

They are also going further with the cost saving, by using less aggregate to fill the holes by means of leaving several of the cars that have fell down the pot holes in the past.

This is all very wise money saving of which the poverty stricken and honourable Prime Minister would be proud. There is no worthier effort towards the Big Society, than to donate your car to the filling of pot holes.

Patchy suffers an aggregate loss. Double yellow lines always survive!

Another interesting side effect of the road works has been the rather haunting removal of cars from the streets one day at a time. Harking back maybe a hundred years looking down streets with no cars, awaiting a friendly horse pulling a cart. Seeing the worn and tattered tracks with their broken surfaces, gravel strewn instead of dirt strewn.

A world with no cars, just giant beasts.

I seized upon the opportunity for capital gain and the need for residents to move their cars for the work. I am now happy to say I have a car on the house roof, two motorbikes in the garden and a van in my front room.