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.

Hair Today, Implanted Tomorrow.

I was laying in a hospital bed the other day and although he wasn't green I thought that Shrek was alongside me. Turned out that it was a footballer called Mickey Rooney and that he was having his hair done.

Poor lad in his twenties losing the barnet and outrageously self conscience about having a shiny top. Now a small mind has never been follically challenged, he is a mighty man and looks forward to having his hair into his elderly years, but I feel that even if the old hair would depart I wouldn't be as desperate to have someone else's hair put on top of the bonce. I also wouldn't worry if it went a lovely grey either to be honest and I feel that some of it is anyway. Grey would make you distinguished, even more than of course I currently am.

Anyway, poor old Mickey, I had a chat with him and he reckoned going bald was making him look ugly, I mean as if! I advised him that his best bet would be to get his skin colour turned green rather than try to put feeble bits of fluff on the top of his head, I mean:

What does that look like. If you were going to go to the expense of getting hair implanted wouldn't you actually make it so it doesn't look like you have a slap head and a receding hairline? I know it is cool and tough to have it uber short, but don't it look stupid. Also, does it even grow? Of course not so is he going to look that stupid all the while. And I am still talking about the hair now.

Poor old Coleen having to put up with that, I reckon she should get on the footballers band wagon and get a Gigolo. A Small Mind is ready for you luv...