Is it art?

Here's some of my pics.

But is it art?



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So that's that. I may add more

Chip Shop Crew

There is a phenomenon I’ve noticed in Scotland (it might not be just Scotland but that’s where I’ve noticed it).

This phenomenon I’ve decided to call the “chip shop crew” phenomenon. Basically it goes like this, any chip shop that you go into has a remarkably similar staff structure.

There will be the boss man, the guy that operates the fryer and runs the show. He will always be a middle aged man and more often than not he will have no hair (some kind of natural selection process to ensure hygiene perhaps?).

There will be the real boss, a middle aged lady with a face so tough it looks like it was carved in granite by a naturally angry sculptor in a bad mood with a blunt chisel.

There will be a young but overweight and unattractive lady who is in charge of the dolly birds.

Then there are the dolly birds. There will be between 1 and 6 teenage girls with above average looks (though the constantly bored expression spoils this somewhat) serving the customers and dishing out the chips. Their styled hair, expensive jewellery and carefully applied make up are off set perfectly by their chewing gum grey overalls and dismissive nature.

Now and again there will also be a godfather figure in the chip shop. He will be an ancient man, probably over 80 years old and under 5 feet tall, who, although dressed for work, wanders about the place getting in everybody else’s way.

Don't just take my word for it though, check it out for yourself. Visit any chip shop in Scotland and you will see the Chip Shop Crew.

The Assassin part 4

Sitting on top of the building opposite the targets apartment the assassin opened his case.

He quickly assembled his high powered sniper rifle, screwed on the silencer then clicked the scope into place.

He got into position and took a first look through the scope into the targets apartment, the target was laying awkwardly on his bed, his head at a funny angle. Just as he was adjusting the focus on his scope a figure came into view in the window.

It was him, Matthew Erics. He was also an assassin, apparently the best in the business. If you were rich and powerful enough and you wanted the job done guaranteed then you’d call Erics. Kramer planned to put a stop to this.

He was close behind Erics, very close and Erics knew it, which was probably why he was stealing his clients. This wasn’t the first time he’d stolen one, but if Kramer had anything to do with it, it’d be the last.

He quickly put the rifle back in its case and ran down the stairs to confront Erics.

Overheard

This is a part of a conversation I overheard in Subway between two young guys in suits.

Suit 1 "I'd totally ride her."

Suit 2 "HER!?"


Suit 1 "Yeah, what's up with her? She's very pleasant looking."

Suit 2 "My point exactly. You don't 'totally ride' (accompanied by fingers in the air quote mark gesture) someone who's pleasant looking."

(pause)

Suit 1 "Fair enough." (pause) "Ok then, I'd totally let her ride me."

Suit 2 "Yeah, me too."

G20

No not that G20, the other G20, Maryhill.



There are two schools in Maryhill that have been threatened with closure so some of the parents have snuck into the schools and are staging a sit in protest.

These parents have strong feelings over the school closures for a number of reasons, nostalgia not being the strongest one.

If these schools are closed then the children will be relocated to other schools much further away.

I have a personal interset in this situation myself as my son would be going to one of these schools after the summer.

The biggest problem for me is that the school he'd be getting moved to isn't going to allow parents to pick up the kids at the school but at a designated safe area in Asdas car park.

They're expecting a load of school kids to walk safely from the school to a supermarket carpark, crossing a busy main road.

It's a whole load of ridiculous nonsense.

Heatwave!

It's warm in Glasgow. So warm in fact I've taken my jumper off!

I don't think I've experienced such a warm day in April before. But anyway enough of me wittering on about the weather like I've got nothing better to say...erm...yes.

The Assassin part 3

The very second the room door clicked shut the target started to struggle. He stopped instantly as his struggling caused his bare back to touch a red hot iron that was balanced precariously on the back of his seat.

He had two choices, sit still and do nothing to keep away from the iron or try and wiggle the chair in such a way that the iron would fall off and not land on him allowing him to try and escape.

He felt he couldn’t do nothing so he opted to try and make the iron fall. He took a deep breath and carefully rocked the chair. Nothing happened. He rocked it a bit harder. The iron wobbled forward, he could feel the heat from it as it got millimetres from his back before wobbling back to its original position. He rocked the chair again; the iron tipped forward, touched his back briefly then tipped backwards and fell off the chair.

The pain in his back subsided after a second or two when he realised there should have been a thud as the iron hit the floor, but there had been no thud. He looked down at the iron. It had landed on a pile of crumpled up paper. The paper was already starting to smoulder.

In a panic he managed to wedge his hands under the chair and grip onto it, he tried to bounce the chair away from the iron and the impending fire. On the first bounce he heard a light thump, looking back to the iron he noticed a bottle of liquid had been hidden under the chair and his bouncing had knocked it over. A pungent odour filled the air and he realised that the liquid was petrol. The petrol was seeping across the floor towards the pile of smouldering papers. The instant the petrol hit the papers they burst into flame.

Wild with panic he started bouncing vigorously away from the fire. He had gotten 5 or 6 feet away from the fire when the legs of the chair caught on something and he fell over sideways.

Lying on his side on the floor still tied to the chair he could see just out of his reach a knife that had been stabbed into the floor, speared onto the knife was a photograph of him with his name written on it in red ink “Laurence Gordon”.

He struggled and struggled to get closer to the knife, hoping to use it to free himself from the chair, but he struggled in vain.

The Assassin part 2

His next target was due to be eliminated within the next 24 hours. This one was going to be a bit more difficult, this target knew his face.

He drove to a bar that he had discovered previously to be the targets favourite hangout. He left the stolen car parked outside the bar with the keys in the ignition, he wouldn't be needing it anymore, and went inside.

It was a long room with a bar along one of the long walls, a stage along the other long wall and tables and chairs in between. Behind the bar was a giant mirror, he sat himself in a corner of the room where he could scan the crowd for the target in the mirror and not be seen too easily.

There was a live band playing some raucous rock and roll music and the place was packed with people, both sitting at tables and up dancing, but it still only took a few seconds for him to spot the target sitting at a table near the bar. Once he’d spotted him he didn’t take his eyes off him.

After half an hour the target drained his beer bottle and got up to leave the bar. He watched him head towards the exit. The plan was to let the target leave then follow him out and deal with him outside away from the crowded bar but just as the target reached the door he was spotted. The target recognised him instantly and burst through the door like a shot. The assassin was up and after him in an instant.

As he got outside he turned and spotted the target run down a side street. He ran after him, just as he rounded the corner he saw the target sprinting up a flight of stairs at the end of the street and turn right onto a higher level street.

The assassin was a master of his craft and part of that mastery was a high level of fitness, even in his suit and shoes he sprinted easily and quickly along the street and up the steps. He had the target in his sights once again. Within moments he was gaining on him.

Just as he was getting to within a few steps of him the target suddenly ducked right, through a heavy glass door and into an apartment building. The assassin got to the door just as it was closing; he threw it open and darted through.

The target was running up a flight of stairs, the assassin smiled as he started to ascend, taking the steps two at a time, knowing he had him trapped.

At the 12th floor the target left the stair well and went into the corridor of the building, the assassin was only a couple of steps behind. The target threw himself at an apartment door, burst through and tried desperately to close the door behind him.

The assassin kicked the door open sending the target sprawling backwards into the room. He entered the room and turned calmly closing the door behind him.

He walked slowly towards the target, reached down and lifted him by the throat with one gloved hand. With a single precise punch to the face the target was out cold. When he regained consciousness sometime later he found he was tied to a chair and stripped to the waist.

The assassin was sitting quietly and calmly in a chair, watching, waiting for him to regain consciousness. When he saw the targets eyes open he stood up, walked over to him, bent down and whispered into his ear.

“You made me run. For that you will suffer.”

Then he stood up straight, smoothed down his black tie and left the room.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

That is all

The Assassin

I’ve had a story in my head for some time now but I’ve never gotten around to writing any of it down. I know that I’ll have to write it all down then re-write it a few times and the size of the task puts me off. But I need to make a start at some point.

I’m going to try and use this blog as a way of actually getting something down. It’s going to be really rough but at least I’ll have made a start.

Anybody reading this can feel free to leave any comments, constructive criticisms or suggestions.

Ok here goes.



He sat patiently and waited for his target. He knew he wouldn’t be visible in this dark corner of the car park sitting in the car he had stolen earlier. The only light was coming from the digital clock on the dashboard 0:59 and the occasional flash of lightning overhead.

He sat, unblinking, waiting for his target, never flinching at the lightning, not noticing the time passing. As the digital readout silently reached 1:07 the target appeared. He watched the target walk through the car park towards his car, as he passed by without even a glance the assassin silently opened his car door and stepped out.

With expert stealth he walked behind the man. A short but heavy metal baton was gripped firmly but loosely in his gloved hand.

The target stopped behind a car and started fishing around in the pocket of his coat looking for his keys. Framed in a moment of time by a flash of lightning the assassin raised the baton and brought it down with the exact force and in the precise location on the targets head to kill him instantly.

He dropped the baton on the dead mans chest, placed a photograph of the target with his name written on it in red ink “Adam Fockner” on his still warm cheek, took a photograph with his mobile phone and walked back to his car.