Friday, 11 September 2009


What was I doing when the planes hit the two towers?

I was returning home from work, pulling into my driveway. Head still working on an insolvency case – some bloke had gone into liquidation owing the bank a small fortune and bank was out for his blood……but I digress….

Easing out of the car the radio news is telling me a light plane has crashed into one of the trade centre towers (not that I knew very much about those buildings).

I think – oh well – some silly sod in a little plane lost his way, hit a building. Why do they fly silly little planes anyway? Get a life.

Walking into the kitchen I turn on the radio – in the minutes on leaving the car the news had become more serious. Turn on the TV. And what I saw has been etched into my memory.

My mate Mark is painting my house that week and so he and me sit and watch the news together for the next hour or two – both incredulous as to what we are seeing. Saying things like – “Bloody hell…..” and “ I can't believe this….” Too shocked to utter anything profound or meaningful.

We are actually watching as the second tower folds like a concertina. Over in seconds: smoke, and billowing dust.

I phone Mrs P – who is at a friend’s house ¼ mile away and tell her to watch the news.

And that’s what I was doing. Mundane – but as alive in my mind now as it was then.

The TV has been filled this week with stories and documentaries about 9/11 (in the UK we would say 11/9) and the suffering of the folks then and now. And I feel very sad about all of this.

It was a very major event in terms of the immediate spectacle, the subsequent turn of events and the effect on the American Psyche. In the UK we have had terrorism and God knows what for many years; the IRA bombed our arses off for decades and ironically the Americans (not all of them) supported the Republican terrorists with finance.

In fact - I came close to having an Irish bomb blow underneath me - but had left the building before the fire bomb exploded. BOOM.

We Brits also got bombed to bits in the 2nd World War – so collectively the British know what it’s like to face onslaught. The Americans were never bombed in WW2 and so 9/11 was unique - like waking from a dream.

Now our trans-atlantic cousins have that terrible knowledge; ending the Age of Innocence.

Saturday, 1 August 2009


Listen my Dear P Club – I appreciate that P has been away – and I know how you have pined…but here He is – BACK.

In the interval P has been in The U S of A (in a place called "Kansas") – and He will tell you all about that. But wait up…there’s something else to tell.

P will tell of morality and offer enlightenment.

The Foal and the 2 Scumbags

The news has been full recently of an event, which took place near where I live. This story, although local to where P lives, was taken up by the national press and even grabbed the attention of folks in New York. It's all about animals and hence the vast British interest - with us being animal lovers and all - no Spanish cruelty in our country - No Sir! We are the humane nation.

One afternoon two teenagers were observed taking a little foal into our local park in the middle of the day. They then proceeded to kick and stamp it to death – laughing their arses off as they did it. The geezeer who saw it - felt powerless to help as these teenagers looked mean and nasty and oftentimes in the UK - an intervention can result in a knife in the head or at least a good kicking.

The press went totally Ape-Shit and there ensued a moral panic the size of London. Fibres of the trainers (sneakers) were taken from the dead animal and a lab in the States offered to analyse them. They did and hey presto - we discovered who these shit-heads were.

Well – they have caught the little scumbags and they are awaiting trial – one 19 year and one 17 – with a spotty faced 14 in tow.

Trouble is – my kids know these little scumbags as one of them came to our boxing club for a short spell.

I don’t get it – can the P Club please explain to me the psychology of this event? What attracts 3 kids to kill an animal in this way? It's worse that it was a foal - not sure why - but it just it.

2 more scumbags and Little P

But there’s a brighter tale and this one happened not too far from the foal-killing park.

9 o’clock at night Little P is walking with a friend through the mean streets of our village. Little P is 15 years old – but he’s quite tall for his age – but very slim built. Underneath his shirt he’s a typical boxer boy – fit as a ferret.

Anyway – two individuals start to cross the road towards Little P – two youths aged approx 19 and 20. Much bigger and older than Little P. Deliberately they barge into Little P, and not wanting trouble Little P say “Sorry”.

Next thing – this big guy pushes Little P up against a fence and feints a punch into his face. Little P looks scared – and youth turns and laughs to his friend.


The twat – leaves his chin hanging in mid-air.

Little P – clips him straight underneath with an uppercut, right on the button of the chin and knocks him out cold.

Sparko – bloody-unconscious.

Little P said to me that he saw this idiot’s eyes roll into the back of his head before he hit the deck. He lay on the floor for at least two minutes having a refreshing nap.

Next thing- the other idiot tries to take on Little P and his friend and gets nowhere. In fact the guy gets roughed up by Little P and friend. In the meantime our hero as awakened from his slumbers and staggers towards Little P - mouthing obscenities.

Little P simply reminds him that he was knocked out and advises that there's more were that came from. Knocked out by a kid.

I was so pleased that it happened – that Little P let this big fat bully have it. The thing is - he is used to throwing a punch - it comes second nature.

Always let scum-bags like this have it before they have a chance to start on you. I can tell when trouble is on the horizon and I have taught my boys to hit first and then run.

This sort of violence happens all over the UK – all of the time.

I am so glad that I have taught Little P how to box and to get the retaliation in first. Had he not decked this idiot he was in serious trouble.


Nice to be back.

Oh Good Grief – it’s fantastically nice to be back

Friday, 20 February 2009


Dear P Club

I need some advice.

There’s this woman in work who is driving me mad. Generally - I find that I get along with all womanfolk - but there is a certain kind who I have problems with - and they are characterised by:

- overt aggression
- insecurity
- no sense of humour

We have formed a group of like-minded folk dedicated to a certain aspect of the law –We work together, organise functions and marketing events, share technical knowledge etc. etc. So far – so good.

And along comes this new lady – she’s a bit butch – short hair cut – men’s clothes – in fact looks like a man, but is not a man. Nothing wrong with that – I wear men’s clothes all of the time, and I enjoy it.

But by Gawd – she is so aggressively insecure and has the social skills of a duck.

For example:

She has designed a course, which we are running for the legal profession and all I did was make a few suggestions as to how we could improve it. But the reaction from her was severe – she argued that I was “stepping on her toes” – in short – she went ballistic!

I must admit she did make me laugh. And my first response was to make a big bloody joke out of it. Which made her even madder.

But if anyone tells me how I can improve something I am keen to listen and will often amend or even dump what I have prepared. My kids tell me all the time. It’s all about getting better at doing things - improving. But this lady won’t listen to anyone.

Anyway – I don’t mind really – she is certainly insecure and I can understand this; who wouldnt feel nervous around The Great Mr P?.

But she has started to tell little lies - and I cannot stand folks who tell lies - it erodes trust. I will give you a recent example:

One of our secretaries left because she couldn’t work with this woman any longer. Anyway – along comes our woman to one of our meetings and announces that the secretary had declared in her “EXIT” meeting that she had problems and issues with ALL OF US. That was news to me. Personally I try and get along with everyone.

So I phoned the secretary up and asked her if she did have issues with us all.

She was puzzled by the suggestion and explained that she had no issues with us – but only with our shorthaired friend – importantly she had never said any such thing at her EXIT interview.

A little lie.

And that is just one of many. I am coming to the conclusion that she has lost the ability to discern the truth from the fiction.

So P Club – I appreciate that this is all rather pathetic and of no-consequence. But how would you deal with this woman – if at all?

I am raising a very important and deep issue here you see: HOW DO WE CONFRONT EVIL?

I am certainly going to tackle her over the lying – because we cannot allow this.

How do you deal with someone who will not listen to reason?


Thursday, 12 February 2009


In this time of dire economic and social news - Mr P thought He would put up some great thoughts:

Successful people don’t wait for everything to be perfect to move forward. They take initiative; momentum is their friend.

“To fear is one thing. To let fear grab you by the tail and swing you around is another” – Katherine Paterson.

People who take initiative and work hard may succeed, or they fail. But anyone who doesn’t take initiative is almost guaranteed to fail. To have a chance at getting what we desire we have to work for it.

We should be people who do the right think without being told.

Successful people don’t need a lighted fuse to motivate them. Their motivation comes from within.

“Tomorrow is the only day in the year that appeals to a lazy man.”

Everyone experiences setback. We all face obstacles. From time to time, we all feel that the deck is stacked against us. We need to show initiative anyway. Dick Butler asserted. “Life isn’t fair. It isn’t going to be fair. Stop snivelling and whining and go out and make it happen for you.”

We need to take responsibility and act.

All problems become smaller if you don’t dodge them, but confront them. Touch a thistle timidly, and it pricks you; grasp it boldly and its spines crumble.

Try scheduling a specific time for something that you don’t like doing. For example, if dealing with difficult people are a regular part of your job, but you tend to avoid doing it, then schedule a set time for it. Maybe the best time would be between two and three o’clock every day. Treat it like an appointment, and when three o’clock rolls around stop until tomorrow.

You must take action in order to become who you desire to be.

Desire isn’t enough. Good intentions aren’t enough. Talent isn’t enough. Success requires initiative. “Ideas are worthless. Intentions have no power. Plans are nothing, unless they are followed with action. Do it Now !!!”

Sunday, 1 February 2009


Mr P has been in Italy over the past few weeks: doing a bit of this and that.

And He’s still alive.

Thank Gawd…I hear you all say. Yes – thank The Lord.

Still Alive after a near- death experience – and all because of Mrs P’s Bloody family.

It goes like this:

Went out one evening: Mr P, Mrs P,her younger brother Paulo and his girlfriend Monica (nice girl – bit opinionated, but otherwise okay). We go to this weirdo “Pub” – great according to younger Bro; all made up like a scene from Edgar Allan Poe – but with skeletons in each corner and drinks served by vampires….only in Italy can something this naff be in existence.

All I had was a piece of toast and a non-alcoholic fruit juice – cost me twenty five squid !! Younger Bro had two pints of some fizzy cold yellow stuff, which he laughingly referred to as “beer”.

Anyway – two hours later he’s driving us home; either side of us is the Venice canal – very thin road – and dense fog – not enough space to allow two cars through without a bit of give and take. “CAUTION – is needed” - I hear you all say.


My Arse !

Younger Bro – just hits the pedal and starts to hammer through the fog – me and Mrs P in the back seat – him and Monica in the front.

He’s cranked up his car stereo – playing “Woman in Chains” by Tears for Fears (a great track circa 1989). It is very loud and my body is shaking with the boom of the base. It's putting my nerves on end.

Little Bro is smoking a foul Italian cigarette – which bounces up and down in his mouth as he jabbers away – which is often – because the silly sod is turning around in his seat to speak to me . Why is he speaking to me?

Because I am telling him to slow down, to turn that bloody music off and look where he’s going.

But will he?

Like hell he will – he just talks faster – arguing with me, wondering why I am so afraid, and he then speeds up – going 60+ miles per hour in dense fog – on a skinny Italian road – with canal either side… a said.

All along the way there are memorials to Italian Youths – who have died on this road – they wiz past like a dream – but I notice them, as well as the bat’s squeak of fear.

Nothing is working with this jerk – so I pray – grab Mrs P’s hand and vow that if I get out of this alive – I will change my ways – be kinder – be gentler – smell the flowers – walk the dogs more – love the neighbours – speak peaceably to everyone;

And deck this twat of an Italian brother in law with one swipe of my hoary hand and then bounce the car door off his head.

So I tap him on the shoulder and grab his earlobe and whisper in his ear (in Venetian dialect) – that I want him to speed up – so we get home quicker, while I’m still feeling mad – ‘cos when we get back I am going to spread his nose across his face and break his jaw into 10 digestible pieces.

P Club – let me tell you this:

Italians do not like violence – No Sir – they do not. And so twat Brother-In Law – slows down – straight away. So I tell him – to speed up – I need to get home quick –'cos his arse is grass.

He does not speed up and spends the next 10 minutes saying sorry.

So there we go – P is still here.

Alive and Well.

Monday, 5 January 2009


Problem One – the War in Gaza

Am I missing something?

Palestinian militant groups send rockets into Israel from the Gaza Strip and Israel retaliates. No body wants to see a war, death and casualties, but there is a very simple solution:

Stop sending rockets into Israel.

It’s bloody simple isn’t it? What is Israel supposed to do? If the French were bombing us (their neighbour) would we just sit back and take it?

I don't think so.

As for the demonstrators around the country – demanding a cease-fire and condemning Israel – why don’t they just be grateful they live in a democracy that allows freedom of speech and religion etc. These idiots even attack the British Police like it’s our bleedin' fault. And we see the usual old jump-on the band wagon hacks like Tony ("The Ego") Benn and Ken Livingstone all marching around too. Oh my Gawd - it's really is.

If you poke a lion with a stick he is going to bite you.

Hamas – My Arse

Problem Two – the Economic Meltdown of the UK (and the rest of the World)

Gordon Brown is a toss-pott – a totally useless Scottish Gett. Am I right? He is not the saviour of our country at all, but one of the reasons why we are in this mess.

He allowed the Banks to lend massive amounts of cash to idiots who could never pay the loans back.

Again, am I missing something?

If you borrow – don’t you eventually have to pay it back?

Couldn’t that miserable looking gett see that we were heading for financial ruin? An economy, which evolves around inflated house prices, will eventually dive into the sand. Isn’t this as obvious as the nose on your face?

And as for the get-rich mentality – we have become like a body builder who beefs up his neck muscles so that they eclipse his head.

What is the point? It’s ugly and utterly, utterly meaningless. Why do folks need more money than they can even spend?

Who has bewitched us into believing that wealth is all we should aspire to? Fooled into believing that riches and material things are all that matters in this world?

- Celebrity culture stinks

- Overpaid sports stars stink (of cologne no doubt – but it makes a very bad smell)

It’s a fools’ paradise with fools’ gold. Bugger off: long expensive holidays – new cars – bigger houses – better jobs – better education. Bollocks to the lot of it.

A reshaping of our Western World is taking place.

You’d better believe it.

Problem Three – who gives a monkey’s cuss about Cricket?

Come on BBC – we just don’t care about that boring game – so STOP going on about it.

Thursday, 1 January 2009


Welcome to 2009 P Club.

Hey Listen.

P had a party for New Year’s Eve; I never get invited to parties so I must have my own. And what a bleedin’ nightmare it was.

Anyone who comes to P’s party is up for a fun evening of PARTY GAMES……it’s compulsory. I have loads of kids to look after…..I cant just let them sit in a corner and look bored. And I don’t leave the kids with grandparents whilst Mr and Mrs P bugger off down a nightclub.

No – for me – family life is my whole life.

So – it’s Hearty Party for the whole of P household.

In Mr P’s parties there’s none of that drinking shed loads of booze, taking drugs or smoking fags. Done that years ago – was boring then and is boring now. P’s body is a temple – never fill it full of krap like that.

Truth is – I have to cater for all ages at The P household parties: little kids (loads of them); teenage boys (with their mates), friends and neighbours. This year we invited some neighbours (who have been going through some tough times) and Mrs P also decided to invite some folks from Belgium.

Can you bleedin Adam and Eve it? A bunch of Belgians? In our house !

So – I get party games going…..yes Party Games. Crazy – zany – wacky games. But it was like winding up the dead. So many folks just refused to play. But – Mr P never gives up – and yes the buggers did play the games. I bullied them into it.

But it was hard work. And them some of the little girls started arguing and crying…..and we had kids sneaking off to play = Play Station.

I spent the whole time cajoling folks – rounding folks up – telling kids off – encouraging them to join in – looking for the dogs – serving drinks.

Why do folks come to a party and then sit po-faced and refuse to speak to anyone unless someone speaks to them – and then refuse to take part in Mr P’s (compulsory games) – I resorted to threats of violence in the end – seemed to work.

Oh Gawd – how I dislike introverts who refuse to socialise. Quiet people are okay up to a point – but when invited to a party they should either join in, bugger off quick – or better still – refuse the invite by saying:

“I am a quiet person….I will not make any bloody effort to get involved – but will sit in the corner expecting you to entertain me the whole bleedin’ time – and on that basis – I must decline your kind invitation”.

Thank Gawd for Mr P’s kids.

My kids are up for everything – and my teenage boys are totally bloody fearless – they don’t give a monkeys cuss – will play any game I ask them to – will dance and have a laugh at anything. And they don’t mind a bit of a scrap either…

During our party they decided to strip off down to their boxer shorts and go for a wander around the village – freezing cold with 3 mates. Got chased by some old bloke who took offence at their sprightliness.

I even made them wear compulsory lion masks – my boys wore them – but my girls point-blank refused.


Then one of the dogs goes missing – had to go looking for the little monkey; found him down the road.

I totally cocked up the food – told someone (on the phone) to bring a cake and mentioned there were 26 people coming to the Party – the idiot brings 26 pudding and cakes. Mrs P blames me. We had so much food – cakes all over the place – bottles of wine wherever you turned.

I drank one glass of mulled wine all evening. Too bloody busy getting folks to join in on my party games.


At 11 o’clock I wrapped up the whole party – sent the boring buggers home – and The P family went off to another party – with about 100 people. That was a funky time.

What did you boring buggers get up to P Club?