Fucking Scary, Me ....!

  I mean; Ye wouldn't want me after ye, in the woods. Not if I had a knife and you only had a gun. Ye'd have to be well on ye toes not to spend the last seconds of ye life wondering how the fuck I'd pulled That one off.

 I used to slip through the woods with bare feet, when I was a younger man. (Oh, alright. Fair enough; Much younger!) Padding about like some carnivorous 'WereDeer'. I could've slipped in and fucked ye shit up then.

 Just sort of grown to assume I was past all that now. Haven't done it in decades. Completely out of practice. Too fucking old to be playing 'Cowboys and Indians' with myself anyway.

  Till today. Had a crafty pint and a bit. Just sat there, on the grass of my compound. Orange Dog baking in the sun behind me. Watching my Starlings popping in and out of their box like the Changing of the Guard. Bliss.

 Then it struck me. I'm supposed to be Nest Recording for the BTO. Fine. Starlings duly recorded. Count their eggs any time. Now; What about Ducks and shit? That'd make a change. I wonder if there's any swans nesting on that lough over the way ....?

 Off I went. I was on a mission. Spring has sprung and the Old Feeling was stirring within me ..... Game On!

 That's how I came to find myself in the conifer plantation. Following a deer trail through this virgin place where the last man to set foot was probably the one who planted this shit. Seriously!

  I was in there just for a recce. Wondered if I might chance upon any hawks nests. But, I'm noting the deer foot prints (" Slots ") and shit as I sneak about. All senses on full alert.

 And that's when I realised it. The scraping of the back of my hat brim, against my shirt collar, was doing my fucking head in. It was so Loud! 

 Every time I paused and scanned the tree tops around me, there was this awful roar of felt brushing cotton.

 That's when I realised how absolutely silently I was moving. Through even the most ridiculously low and close cover. 

 Crispy carpet of deer broken branches under foot. Dry as dust. Yet, I was unconsciously placing my feet between each one.  

  I thought to myself then what a danger I could be placing myself in. If there was some 'farmer' in there, with a gun?

Catching a glimpse of me slipping so silently, like a shadow passing, about the place, he might think I was some wild creature and take a shot!

  That's when it occurred to me; " I'd fucking hate to have me after me, in here! I'd be fucking dangerous! Never hear myself coming. "

 I remember Jack Hargreaves once showing some old countrymen in some woods. He explained how, for all their knocking on a bit, these guys could still slip through a wood as silently as cats. Despite their hobnailed boots.

 And there's me. Steel toe capped whellies. Moving silently as a wraith. " Mr SAS ".

 You ever want a piece of me? Bring a gun. I'll lure ye into the woods. Then I'll Really fuck ye up ~ with just a knife.

  I haven't lost it. This geriatric Geronimo can still manage that Viet Nam  Stealth Walk  ;-)
 




 

Kudos To Dean O' .....

  So, cutting to the chase of an otherwise extremely long story:  Dean O's pulled up at my place, tonight. Just after I realised that really was fucking Snow flakes I was seeing ....!

  Never mind that. I'm ready to roll and have my Gray Wagtail nest box in my bag. Pair of Obo nails in my pocket. And I think to check Dean has a hammer in the van.

  He has. We're all set then. This evening, I get my Gray Wag' nest box popped under the bridge in town.

 One of us to hold it in position. Other to beat the masonry nails into the underside of the bridge. Team work. Fuckin' easy.

  Stopped off at Dean O's, on the way. He grabbed his Hilti Gun ~ why beat spikes when ye can blow them in? And his own gum boots too. We had water to walk in. Unknown, but certainly above the ankle depth. 

 Fuck almighty! First, the gate to the bank to the river's padlocked. No worries. We're big boys. Over the fence ~ wrong side of the fence / bridge. Dean 'O points out how we'll easier approach the bridge from the other side. Off we go.

 It's getting dark, by now. Just how deep Is this fucking river anyway? Looked a piece of piss, last week. In broad daylight.  Tonight, I watched carefully, as Dean O' trod, carefully. I made sure to try and tread where he had. 

 Crouched over. Carrying weird shit to be carrying under a bridge in town. In the dark. It felt like 'Being in the SAS'.

 Well, it probably felt nothing like that. But, weird, uneasy, scary as this felt? Fuck being in the SAS! This was quite enough 'excitement'.

  Then the Bangs!  There's Dean firing the Hilti, to shoot the nails in. Only, it's more like " Bang! Ping! Fuck! " This fucking tool fires nails into scaffold tubes. I've seen it. But, natural Irish stone rocks? No fucking way!

 Just as he ran out of nails, I felt one stuck in the wood of the box! Bastard things had been ricochetting around our fucking ears in there!!! FFS! It Was like being in the fucking SAS!

  So, this box is plainly coming back home with me. I'll need to figure something else out. But, I suck it up and don't make any miserable comments. We'd tried.

 Then Dean O' says the most remarkable thing. He says; " Only way to do this is to use an SDS drill, and plug into these stones. " I, 'jokingly' say that, yeah; But, I don't think any of my extension leads will reach this far.

 " No. " Comes this voice in the darkness. " But, mine will. If I bring the generator ..... " Then I hear purposeful strides against the current. He's off .....

 All fucking credit to the guy. I mean, this is my baby. Yeah? My project. I'm the one obsessed with fucking nest boxes. It's also Friday night. Dark. Freezing fucking cold and we have " Dexter " waiting to be watched and beer to be consumed.

 But, no. He's slung the tools back in the van and drove all the way back to his place. Fucked around, testing the genny. Loaded up some more tools and driven us back down to that god forsaken river.

  I now have a Gray Wagtail nest box securely positioned beneath one of the bridges in town! I'm a Fucking Happy Bunny!

 The knock on effects of that box being there will now spread, like a tiny, soft ripple, through the whole community. And it'll bounce back too; To the benefit of wildlife. How cool is that?

  And all because my mate, after a damn hard weeks work, was willing to pick up the tools and sacrifice another hour of breaking his fucking back, stooping around beneath a dark bridge in a freezing river.

  I fuckin' Salute the guy!
 

Congo In The House ....!

Yeah, ok; I've about given up with showing ye the little Marker Flags on my map. Takes me so much time and trouble. And, if ye reckon I'd bullshit ye? Why ye reading my shit anyway?

I have no reason to head up these visitations. After all, I started this game of my own volition. I just wanted to publicly test if that Stat Map thing was true. Seems it is. So, I guess I owe it an apology for my initial doubting. And Mongolia might have some interest in Jack Russell Terriers after all, eh? (That's a " Terrierman.com " sort of joke. Trawl back and ye'll be in on it)

But, anyway, yeppers; Congo. Do we still call it " Belgian Congo " ? Guess not. That's how I first ever heard of the place. I was a kiddie and collected stamps. One of those passing, childhood phases one picks up from a neighbouring kid. Before one gets out and about more, as one grows, and Eggs enter the picture. Did in those days, anyway.

But, I'll never forget my Belgian Congo stamp. Had a fucking Gorilla on it! No shit! So, where ever The Congo was, they had Gorilla's there. And jungle. Gorilla's live in jungles, right? And they're fucking scary. Both are. Gorilla's because they're Gorilla's. Jungles, because Gorilla's get in them. Congo, my stamp assured me, had both. Scary fucking place to be!

And I happen to have it, on Most Reliable Information, that the Congo visit was from 'Our Man in the Congo'. Yeppers. Right from The Top. 'Nuff said.

This guy could scare me. I get scared about where he goes. Believe me; If there's a place on this fucking earth where 'Intelligence' takes a sharp intake of breath, shakes its head and tuts as it 'Advises' ye to keep the fuck out? This guy's liable to wind up there. And feed this place a hit.

Just envisage a Huge set of testicles, hanging out of a Lap Top, in some god forsaken jungle, desert or anywhere else where things could, at any time, go Badly wrong for a 'Westerner'. Yep. That's where my boys do their thing. Re Fucking Spect!!!

How's Everyone Feeling ....?

Rough as a badgers foreskin, I expect? For Fuck Sake ....! 'Never again', eh?

I picked Dean O' up at just gone eight and it was straight to the door of Jim's. Hadn't been in there five minutes when I realised that was my phone ringing. Dashed outside, to where I could hear myself think, and found it was my Bro' calling me from england! God alone knows what that cost him. But, it was a hell of a long time before the line went dead as he'd finally ran out of credit.

Jim's was a little too raucous for even Dean, at this point. We decided to have a little run, so over to JJ's we went. Funny; Last year it was literally empty in there. Just the bar staff standing around in the shadows. Last night it was heaving! No accounting for it.

Dean O' suggested we grab a pew in an unoccupied corner and I instinctively got myself into what I considered a good vantage point. Old friend of mine, former SAS chap taught me this. It worked too. There we are, sitting at right angles to each other, chatting whilst we each stare dead ahead. Then, Bingo! I hit pay dirt!

A bunch of young girls, each seemingly trying to out do each other on shortness of skirt, or length of leg revealed, came and sat bang opposite me! Fuckin' lovely! Of course, these youngsters all have a blind spot for blokes my age. They think we're just empty boxes. They just couldn't comprehend that we have sex on our minds, even if we shoved our hand up their skirts!

So, there's me, now grinning like a cunt as my dead, old eyes just keep staring fixedly ahead into no where ~ and I'm giving Dean O', who couldn't possibly start turning and looking their way, a running cometary! " Cor, fuck me, mate! That sweet little blonde's rubbing her thigh again ....! " Rather fun, that was. For me, at least. Shame about Dean O'. But then, as I so often reminded him last night; " Old age and treachery ..... "

Funny really but, as the night progressed I was actually consciously aware of how certain women were becoming incrementally more attractive! I remember spotting one I labelled " The Cave Woman ", in my head. God knows why. She caught my eye, mid way, and I thought there was something about her that made we want to have a little look at her. Later on, I'd decided, she had a certain attraction about her. By the end of the night, I'm quite certain I'd have wanted to fuck her! (Probably consider her a nightmare, if I were sober!)

And the end of the night brought the most telling and curious little incident too. The Food Girl. See, as Dean O' and I were having our now customary games of darts as midnight approached, so they brought the food out. Now, I was 'starving', having not eaten that day, of course. But, I don't eat in these situations because grazing on nibblets only makes me want to satiate my alerted appetite. I had a kebab in my pocket. I'd eat when I got home.

But, one of the food girls had other ideas for me. I politely accepted a single cocktail sausage from her basket. Then I went into colder mode and firmly refused to accept any further offerings. And, looking back, that was when I noticed her standing beside me, offering up her basket of goodies to me. And she was smiling. Her eyes fixed on me like we were the only souls in that packed out pub. I was being fucking hit on!!!

Well, fuck all that. She wasn't looking so bad herself at all, by this point. Only about thirty, and half a dozen pints of Guinness were smoothing out her creases nicely. But, I'd withdrawn into the safety of my own unapproachability and would have given her a rather dead, cold look in return. I thought no more of it and threw my darts about the place.

Then, just after Dean O' had somehow managed to pull a fucking Two out of the hat, thus getting his own customary best of three, I remember myself being beckoned back by the Food Girl, just as I was heading for the door. She was slaughtered. I was probably slaughtered myself; But I 'hold my drink well' and can appear perfectly reasonable, in public.

And there she was. Hanging onto my coat sleeve as she pawed and stroked me with the other hand. Murmuring and purring against my chest and ear. FFS! She wanted me to stay. In fact, she probably had a room waiting for the night. Jim and Phyl' run a combined pub and Guest House, see?

That was fucking It! I had Orange Dogs furry little face to get back to. Orange Dog wanted her bit of the kebab in my pocket and I'd promised her it too. I pointedly detached this girls grasp from my arm and, almost curtly, bid her a 'Happy New Year' before turning smartly on my heel and striding out the door to my waiting taxi and home to Orange Dog.

How fucking Manly was That?!

Ohhhhhh Viennahhhhhhhh.....

Midge. For many of ye, no further word need be uttered. End of.

For those who, recognising the link, or not, still wonder what the fuck I'm on about? Simple: We've been hit by Vienna. Austria.

Just accept it. Someone, in Vienna, has looked in here. It's on my StatCounter map. I tried to get a decent photograph of my screen. But I'm half pissed. Flash goes off and screws everything. Just can't be fucked with it.

Moscow turned up tonight too. As in; Russia. But, I suspect that's just Them again. They like to check in here, of course. Sleep sounder in ye beds, knowing they're out there.

PS2 ~ Enough for One Night!

I am absolutely wired as all fuck here! Buzzing like shit! I've just 'fought' my way through three or four levels of " Conflict - Desert Storm ". Some of them ore than once, as I kept getting blown up by the last tank. In fact, I'd say I've probably fought over half a dozen full on battles tonight. I'm shredded!

Not a big time player, me. A year ago, I didn't even know what a Play Station was. I'd actually never seen what we see on our screens with one. I most definitely figured I'd Never be able to do it. Because ye needed fingers like a concert pianist, right?

Wrong. Obviously. But I'm still not up on half the controls haven't a clue how to split a four man team and form a cross fire against an enemy camp. Thus I tend to go in like a maniac. Every man for himself and we'll patch up the wounded afterwards; As long as any of us survive.

Fucking RPG's piss me right off! Why is it they call them " Anti Tank Missiles ". And then the bastards simply fail to knock out the tank, often as not?! It's a fuckin lottery! And we have One RPG to go into the next level with. That's " Crash and Burn ".

Fuck me; I played the this level half a dozen times, before realising I should've bought the heavy shit with me from the last level. Had to go back and fight the last one again, only without using up all the heavy weaponry. That, along with the odd suicide mission and a tremendous stroke of luck, got me through.

Anyway ..... Unwinding a bit now. I guess, if ye into PlayStation then ye'll have a PS3 by now and will be crawling around behind that irritating Scotsman, blowing terrorist leaders heads off ~ or at least his arm, eh? That works too.

If ye not into it? Doubt ye'll have read this far. Unless out of curiosity and the hope of gaining some understanding. If that's the case? My message is simple: Have a go. It's fucking brilliant and there appears to be a style of game out there for just about everyone. And, I mean; If I can play and enjoy it ....?

Hey, Neocounter! Where's My Saudi Arabia?!

See? more weird shit! Now my map's telling me India actually is looking in here (Hyah, India!) and so is Saudi Arabia?! It's true, folk. My own map can't lie. Someone in the sand has been in here ~ I suspect it's 'Them' again .....

Yet, this time, while clocking up a second look from India? No mention of Saudi. Blowed if I know what's going on.


Sorry about the plain map, by the way. I was so taken with seeing Saudi I just forgot to change the map to pretty view.

IRAN On The Map ....?

The Boys are back in town!

Angola ?!?

Ye fucking kidding me?!


Those boys sure as hell get around, eh?

I Think the S.A.S Are Reading This!

Look; First off we had someone in Iraq looking in here. That, in itself seemed quite inoquous. Lot of military personnel over there. Always a chance that one might surf their way through here some time.

But, then we got Egypt and bang up next to the border with Syria too. I mused then that that seemed a bit of a spot to be. Mentioned how it could be the S.A.S getting up to something. Of course; We can't go too deeply into these things. What those guys get up to is their business and no body elses. But ....!

Ye've guessed it. I've been looking at my " Recent Visitors Map " again. Never ceases to throw up something of interest, that thing. And look what I found this morning!




Fuckin' look at That! Lower right, beneath the big cluster? We now have fuckin' Algeria on the map! I mean; Where the fuck Is Algeria? Apart from next to Libya ~ and we all know what a dodgy old place That is!

God knows what that place is, west of Algeria? What ye reckon? S.A.S been tormenting Syria, from the Eqyptian border. Then sneaked through Libya ~ for old times sake ~ and now thought, " Well, that's that done. Now let's go take a quick look at what that cunt, Ditch, is up to. We'll do it from Algeria. That should wind him up! "

Ye reckon ....?