Fern Hill

At 1:49 you will see the esteemed Mr Jakes reading a line from Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas for the 100 year anniversary. Diolch/Thanks for watching, it was an honour to take part.

Local Christmas Events

Courtesy of Ava McGill (Pembrey & Burry Port Community forum (Facebook)


Without wanting to sound all "Bah Humbug" I was beginning to think that the Christmas spirit had been lost (reading too many Daily Mail stories about the PC brigade banning Christmas trees or hooligans thieving from charity buckets will do that to you). But Facebook of all things has restored my faith in the silly season. There are some wonderful events happening all over Carmarthenshire and Pembrokeshire over the next few weeks, and seeing photos of the Burry Port Christmas market yesterday on the old chopsbook (that could be a Welsh version of Facebook) was great.

Fancy experiencing some local festive fun? Visiting west Wales and want to see how locals roll? (I believe that's what hip Americans say). Allow Mr Jakes to point you in the right direction (and the following events are just a handful of whats going down, there is much much more (check local event listings such as our friends Best of Carmarthenshire website).


11 December: Christmas fayre at Picton Centre (Picton centre, Haverfordwest)

14 December: Narberth winter carnival

14 December: Christmas Fayre Llandovery

16 December: Christmas Fair - Mynydd y Garreg (lifelong home of rugby legend Ray Gravelle)

18 December: Christmas Concert in Nantgaredig

18 December: Christmas Concert in Glangwili (to raise funds for the neonatal unit at hospital)

A Knight Of Our Times

Suits you Sir!

Today we learn that David Beckham could be Knighted. Arise SirDai Beckham! (Briefly dreams of LordDai Jakes). One might say its less LordHaw Haw but more Sir Ha Ha? Okay, rubbish jokes aside, why the surprise? Did we not all see it coming? The venerable *coughs* Mr Jakes certainly did. This is my friends is very much a Knighthood of our times. Its perfect for our new age culture of celebrity, a natural progression. Most people these days worship television and the fame it bestows on its vacuous 'victims', and Beckham, even though I happen to like the man, is king of this. They might as well make it official. I can certainly think of worse people to give a gong. Dame Katie Price anyone?
David has done a ton of good work for charity, and love him or loathe him, he is a good role model for our youngsters. There have been some real disaster stories coming from the world of sport, football especially, but the boy Dave done good. I don't understand folk saying he shouldn't be Knighted because he spends most of his time in America either. Are we not all free to live wherever we like? I didn't realise that if I was made SirDai Jakes (dreaming again) I would have to be permanently based in Britain. Does Sir Paul McCartney live in the UK? (And not being a Beatle fan, I actually had to Google to see if he was a Sir or not). It would be a petty reason not to award someone a gong in my humble opinion. But then David Beckham has had to put up with this kind of garbage for a while now, envy mostly from people who are quite content sitting in an anonymous den typing spiteful bilge online.
Listen, I will happily admit there are more deserving 'unknowns' who will never be recognised for their good deeds toward good causes and their fellow man, and if it were up to me they would all be Knighted but such is life. Its not perfect, and like I have said, is Sir Beckham so bad? At least he's not falling out of a nightclub at 4am, drugged out of his eyeballs, or chasing women old enough to be his grandmother (not that that is necessarily a bad thing *laughs*).
Want to know something else? As a guy who has tattoos himself, I think its kinda cool to be getting a Knight with arms covered in ink. Feels like the outlaws have invaded the Palace! Or at least become accepted as not only prisoners and sailors get tattooed. Better not show them to Her Maj though eh.
I bet Victoria B is over the moon at the prospect of hubby becoming a Knight of the Realm (although it is not a done deal yet). I can see it now:, Lady Beckham handbags and gladrags with emphasis on the 'Lady' part. She'll make the title hip or sick, or whatever words the trendy kids are using these days. Oh and look on the bright side, at least it removes, or should, the last vestiges of any possibility that the Spice Girls will ever get back together. Cin Cin!

Jakes on Royal Marine Guilty

It saddens me to have to break this news so close to Remembrance Sunday but a Royal Marine has been found guilty of murdering a wounded Afghan insurgent fighter. The soldier shot the wounded, unarmed Afghan in the chest telling the dying man: "There you are. Shuffle off this mortal coil, you ****. It's nothing you wouldn't do to us." Before turning to comrades and telling them: "Obviously this doesn't go anywhere, fellas. I just broke the Geneva Convention."
Even more depressing is we are getting people commentating under online news supporting the Marine. Wise up people! This soldier is a disgrace to those who serve the Crown with honour. There is no honour or courage in killing a captured, wounded man in cold blood. This my dear readers is murder, pure and simple. I am no pacifist, and as horrid as it is, soldiers kill each other in times of war. Its the nature of warfare. But when you have soldiers murdering captured enemy combatants, its not right. It cannot ever be right. Its psychopathic and cowardly. And yes, there are Afghan Taliban soldiers doing the exact same thing to troops but I thought our Army was better than that. Evidently some are not. There is a Geneva Convention for a reason, and if we are going to ignore it, we might as well toss it out the window. This Marine knew he was doing wrong too because he instructed his comrades to keep quiet. He knew he had just committed murder. I support our Armed Forces but I cannot defend killing a wounded man. Only cowards and those with questionable morals ever would.
I shouldn't be so surprised when crimes like this are uncovered because operating in lands where bloodshed is plenty is bound to have negative effects on any normal man. Killing, under any circumstance, isn't natural. It is bound to 'breed' the odd psycho. Violence builds on violence. The rule of the gun is never ending. But I doubt Mankind will ever learn.

The Cravings Of A Welshman

Oh rampant pains
of a drunken Welshman
as he prowled the streets
for a simple Englishman.
To pick his bones
and lob the stones,
into pools of choir
as Myfanwy groans.

The ale and laver
does hwyl his soul,
from Felinfoel
to fields of coal.
On Burry Port
and Pembrey shores,
the Welshman
knows his cockle chores.
Gwenllian walks in Kidwelly mun,
without her head,
beyond the sun.

Cymru! Wales!
Where bards run riot
The cawl is deep
the lovespoons quiet.
Long he sleeps
on Merlin's hill,
the wizard's Welsh
stirred Bennett's Phil.

Dragon red
lift claw in pride,
three feathers comb
the pride inside.
No fear breaks
the soul of man,
storms lay shattered
by cwtches hand.

Wales! Cymru!
Ancient Celts,
mother's tongue
on dafodil belts.
Sing of old
as sing we must,
the Cymru tribes
of Swansea dust...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Facebook: Murder, Death, Kill

Facebook has backed down after the controversy surrounding a video showing masked man beheading woman in Mexico and canned the video. But that it was there in the beginning, while breast feeding images were banned, speaks volumes about the site, and if we are honest, society in general. And yes, I use it but it doesn't mean I approve of everything it gets up to. These are real people in these snuff movies, not actors. Its one thing watching a Hollywood slasher movie, quite another clicking on a link that shows real murder. Worrying that some think its perfectly okay to watch.
Facebook themselves seem to be fine with it though: "the public should be free to view beheading videos then condemn the content" Dear me, what is that cotton-mouthed pish supposed to mean?
"Hey chums, look at this video of some geezer being beheaded! Terrible isn't it? It should be banned...wait, I've got another one showing people being tortured, disgusting eh? I don't know why they show these things ... hang on, wait until you see this video
of a woman being set on fire, its well wicked!"
Where are we heading? Don't we realise that by clicking these awful links, we are in fact encouraging more sickos to make them? In the same way that watching child pornography makes the viewer as guilty of child abuse as those who did the actual abusing. Look I know we used to gather at public executions in the 1700s and make a spectacle out of it but are we not meant to advance? And I suspect if the film showed animal cruelty, the outrage would have come a lot sooner.
It all comes down to this: how would you feel if it was your son, daughter, wife, husband, friend that was murdered and the video posted on the net for all to see? Context! Videos of murders, rape, torture and cruelty that are clicked on on a social media site are not concerned with reporting the news. Atrocities have to be exposed but to show a human being's last moments on earth in a video loop denies the victim of dignity, desensitises us to violence and makes us more callous.
I'm sorry, but videos of beheadings are videos of murder, and there cannot be any justification for showing them. It's nothing to do with freedom of speech or terrorism, it's murder, and posting and watching such imagery makes you complicit in that crime.

A Britain for Britons

Having listened to the politicians conferences (and again shaken my head at their obvious lies) and heard all of the "a better Britain" spiel, I just want to ask: a better Britain for whom exactly? We, Britons need a Britain for Britons. Never mind about Cameron giving tax breaks to his wealthy cronies and opening the gates to all and sundry. We need a Britain for US, the hardworking folk who make this country GREAT. A country where we are not spied on 24/7 with CCTV, a place we can fly our flags with pride, somewhere we are not interfered at every turn by an aggressive bureaucracy and told what we can and cannot do (within the law). What we need is a Britain of old, a Britain of the ages.
Too long we have put the needs of others before our own, too long been told to respect others while having to hide our own beliefs and pride for fear of offending those others. Walking on eggshells in the country of our birth! This my friends is an abominable truth, and change must come before our beloved Great Britain disappears in a vomit fog of alien hues and an entire culture lies dead, defeated. Oh such unbearable crime that would be! Eternal cries within the bones of a fallen kingdom. Such a fate must be averted! We must have a Britain for Britons!
Now the doubters and yoghurt knitters will say this is bigoted and even racist, but I ask; how is it racist to want a country putting its peoples first? This is all I want. I am not suggesting the UK pull up the draw bridge and keeping foreigners out. Really, I am not. I am more than aware of the contributions from others who come here to work and make a better life for themselves. The Filipino nurses, Ghurkha soldiers who fought bravely, the doctors from India, the many others who arrive because they believe in Great Britain. I have no issue with these people in the slightest, rejoice! Let us celebrate this glorious country together.
It is the spongers and thieves who come to take, take, take that boil my blood. People who, even though when discovered and proved to be 'on the game', are hardly ever punished sufficiently, and worse never sent back to whence they came! Mind boggling. Frustrating. Of course we also have the enemy within to deal with, those groups of do-gooders who are never happier when interfering with everything, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they make most peoples lives a bloody misery. We all know who they are, the types who order schools to pull down Christmas trees in case it offended those of different faiths, or fretting that nursery rhymes contain politically incorrect words. (These types can do more harm than any lawbreaker). This madness must end, or we shall pay a dear price. A much much too dear a price.

Making Me Loaf

The Prime Minister has come under fire after struggling on radio (an interview I heard myself on LBC) to name the price of budget supermarket bread. David Cameron replied: "But you can buy a loaf in a supermarket for well north of £1." And revealed that he preferred to bake his own bread (plugging a local Cotswold flour as he did so).
You cn guess what happened next right? Within an hour of finishing the interview, newspaper were carrying the story online and readers were filling the comments area below with cries of how out of touch with 'real people' the British PM really was. The clueless, rich oaf! The uncaring toff!Why he knows nothing about the daily struggle of hardworking people, the normal man on the street. Pah! *Rummages for pitchforks*
Do people seriously expect a man who works full time, you know, running the country, with very little time to himself, to know the exact cost of a loaf? Do folk really think that the Prime Minister of Great Britain does the weekly shop down his local Morrisons? Stunning ignorance if you do. Must think being a world leader is no different than working any other job. Perhaps Barack Obama hits his local Blockbuster with the kids on a Friday to rent the weekend movie? (I realise Netflix is King these days but you get my point).
Only the lazy thinking and pedantic would honestly believe that men with such important jobs think this way. Maybe because they have too much time on their hands? Im not Cameron's biggest fan (far from it) but feel someone needs to show some support. I don't know the price of everything in the supermarkets, I simply throw whatever it is that takes my fancy on that particular week into my trolley and head to the checkout. I love sliced beef, fresh from the local butchers, but couldn't tell you the price for toffee because I have more important things to keep in my head. So come on! Its a tad harsh to be putting our PM against the wall for this trivial nonsense. Oh and lastly, do remember that Cameron is a man. Shopping lists are not much of our thing.

Grand Theft Holiday

Roll on 6pm

Unless you live on Mars (and even then you will probably have heard about it), you will be aware that Grand Theft Auto V has been released today. One of the most expensive videogames ever made at £170m, more than many Hollywood blockbusters, we can be assured that games have grown up (youngsters really have no business playing this and shame on parents who buy it for wee Jimmy.) As a huge videogame fan, and not ashamed to admit it, my copy of the game is still sealed but I can almost feel it burning a hole through that packaging. Excited much? Oh yes, its like being eight years old on Christmas eve.
Now I understand that there will be readers who the last game they played was Pac-Man in the 1980s, and explaining the appeal of a game like Grand Theft Auto is difficult but I shall endeavour to try. By and large, the majority of us lead boring old lives. We do, admit it. Living on the edge for most of us means a cheeky sleeve of ginger (beer) at lunchtime, or chancing it by not buying a car park ticket. And this is fine, we enjoy the peace (and liberty) that living a law abiding life brings. But occasionally its nice to let off some steam and cause mayhem, to kick back at the world when on the skids, and because prison doesn't sound like a good plan and nobody (sane) wants to create real grief, the best way to go is to load up a copy of GTA. They are like little stress balls, only more fun.
Fancy robbing a liquor store? Go right ahead. Carjacking (even plane hijack)? Certainly sir, what vehicle takes your fancy? Cop giving you the funny eye? Why you oughta go right over and teach him a (painful) lesson. Its not even restricted to crime, there are a ton of things to get up to in Los Santos (Rockstar's reimagined Los Angeles) from golf, tennis, mountain climbing to unwinding in casinos and better still, strip clubs! Even walking along Santa Monica beach and taking in the sights is a good way to pass time, especially if you happen to be in cloudy old Britain as the nights begin to draw in. See the attraction yet? Its a holiday without the need of passports or awkwardly asking strangers for directions.
Videogames have come a long way since the time when gorillas hurled flaming barrels at fat Italian plumbers, or two white lines and a moving square represented tennis. Now we have 'sandbox' games, open worlds where the player can immerse themselves completely and and 'live another life', and nobody does it better than Rockstar's Grand Theft Auto series. Ive been a fan since the humble top down beginnings of the original game in 1997, they have gotten better with every 'episode'. (I think of them more as a violent soap opera with hefty doses of satire and comedy.) Its an escape. Some get it through books and movies (im an avid reader myself) but for those of us who need that little extra, to make us feel more involved, games are perfect. Why watch someone blow up a car in film when you can do it yourself?
Like I said, most of us lead very boring lives. But not today, not if you have Grand Theft Auto V.

No Jake's Joy over Kidnappers Suicide

Looking nice?

So Ariel Castro, the Cleveland kidnapper has been found hanged in his prison cell? The creep was was found about 9.20pm yesterday at Correctional Reception Center in Orient, Ohio, just one month into his 1,000 year prison term.

Look, don't get me wrong here, im Pro death penalty, so its no loss in my eyes but! I am also in conflict with myself because I believe he got off way too lightly. Have you seen photos of the cell (or similar cells) this guy was kept in? There is one above. His suffering is over, I would also prefer the stiff n' blue option against spending any amount of time in one of those. Then of course there is the fear thing. Castro would have been a marked man in gaol, spending every day, every hour of that day, watching his back, wary of a 'shiv' being plunged into his podgy flesh. Or an eye gouging (these inmates can be terrible with their jailhouse retribution.) He is free of that now too.
Also, because I do not believe in such a place as 'hell', and think we all (sinners included) go to a gentle paradise after we die, its even harder to take this news and I cannot see much to be happy about. It is pretty evident to me that to a lot of folk death is a mighty taboo, the hideous dark to end all darkness; but to me (and there others who feel the same) death is not so frightening, it doesn't posses that dreadful clout and therefore my jubilation at the news of Ariel Castros demise will not include shouts of "YES!" and "Burn in hell!" Because I truly believe he has cheated the 'hangman'.
Here in Great Britain, the vile Ian Brady is on his 47th year in captivity and guess what? He is begging for the right to end his pathetic life. The worm has been on hunger strike for years but the high security hospital he so deeply despises, keeps on force feeding him in order to deny him his freedom. Death is escape. Death is no more weakness of flesh. Death is becoming pure. Death is freedom.
Of course we all hold different beliefs, this is the beauty of Life and there will be thousands of merry people today, celebrating Castro's descent into hell or some other eternal damnation. Good luck to you, enjoy your day but brief it will be. Rather like this cretins sentence.

Seamus Heaney: A Huge Loss

As soon as my tea stained eyes fell upon these words, "Seamus Heaney, the Nobel Prize-winning Irish poet and playwright, has died," my heart gave a heave of sadness. Oh my words, what dreadful news to be met with after only a few clicks of the mouse. Especially for a fellow poet/playwright (though not as grand to put myself on Heaney's level) who looked on the Irish writer as a kind of Obi Wan Kenobi figure. One of the last living Master (capitol M) Scribe. What wretched news!
Life, you can be a swine at the best of times but today? Today you are double the pig.
I was fortunate enough to spend time with Seamus Heaney at a poetry reading in Swansea University back in 1998, and it was like being in the presence of someone who knew all the tricks. It was immense, like a film fan meeting Clint Eastwood if you changed the Arts. Believe me, you know when you are in the company of a great man, something in your spirit alerts you, and it was certainly true back in the Taliesin center all those years ago in Swansea.

'Tis a black day, losing such a genius poet when real poets are so rare in this world. I'll take leave to mourn and leave you with words by Seamus himself:

"Be advised my passport's green.
No glass of ours was ever raised
to toast the Queen."

Diana: Its All...Conspiracy

Scotland Yard to investigate whether Princess Diana was murdered?

Dai Jakes usually enjoys a good conspiracy theory, some are clever and very imaginative but the ones surrounding this accident are rubbish. Some are so weak they can produce some genuine Laugh Out Loud moments. First off, organising a car crash would NOT be an ideal way to get someone killed because very few people die in car wrecks. If it was, as suggested in some corners, a "hit" plotted by the military, they would have much more creative and sure fire methods at their disposal than causing a car crash. A vehicle wreck is loud, bold and attention grabbing. Hardly the ways of shadowy security forces.
We have already had three investigations into this tragedy, I cannot see the results of a fourth being any different; accident no foul play. Anyone with an ounce of common sense will have looked at the evidence before coming to the conclusion that there was never a shred of evidence to support the murder theory. This is why Al Fayed was laughed out of the inquest. The driver, Henri Paul, was DRUNK for crying out loud! And had been on the happy pills. He was driving at speed, at night, with paparazzi flash bulbs going off around the car. Its a miracle to me how he even got as far as the tunnel. I have never been so irresponsible to drive drunk, but I have tried cycling up my garden path after a few too many, and I didn't get 10 yards before I was in a hedge.
Add to all that the fact that none of the car's occupants was wearing a seatbelt, I cannot see how anyone would be tempted to believe it was anything other than a fatal crash. All these stories of mythical white cars disappearing from the scene, or claims that Diana was spotted standing up outside the mangled car, are just flights of fancy conjured up by fantasists. Maybe some cannot accept that a former Princess with the fairytale wedding could die so horrifically in a French tunnel. Others are obsessed with conspiracy and the Illuminati who secretly control the world's affairs (so secret and powerful are they, that weirdos on the internet have them sussed.)
Me? Well like I have said, I usually enjoy a good conspiracy theory but regard them much like the Star Wars saga or any other work of fiction. To actually believe them? That's a tad desperate don't you think? I was never a "fan" of Diana, and thought this "People's Princess business was way over the top, but she was only 36 when she perished in that fatal crash which is a criminally young age to die. Its hard to take, its a knock on our mortality. Perhaps some need to create shady scenarios as a way to push reality away? The reality being that a young mother of two, who lived most of her life in fabulous wealth and fame, had her life snuffed out in a Mercedes S280 due to a drunken chauffeur. And there is nothing more to it than that.

Okra Winfrey Throws a Tanty

Mr Jakes will be honest here; before Oprah Winfrey was told by a Swiss store that a handbag was "too expensive for her" (it cost £24,000) he had barely heard of the woman. Sure the name sounded familiar but as a gentleman who shuns television almost totally, I had imagined she was a music producer or something in that line. Since this (non) story broke, research has revealed that Winfrey is rather famous in her country, and not only famous but a billionaire to boot. There's nice, we are all thrilled for you dear. Honest.
However I am shocked some of the more serious papers over here are carrying this (non) story, and worse running with the "racism" tag. Sorry but this has nothing to do with race. All it is, is a jumped up American 'celebrity' who because the Swiss are sensible and don't show her silly programme (ive Googled it) in their country, her nose has been put out of joint because they don't know who she is. This my dear readers is about a fragile ego and vanity, not racism. Well live with it woman, we Brits hardly know you either.
This is one of the things about Americans that annoys me (and I know plenty of sweet ones.) They like to think they are the center of the universe in everything, and woe betide anyone who fails to recognise this (or any of their half baked 'celebrities'.) And no doubt they will be supporting Oprah over her traumatic European experience, while the rest of the world looks on, scratching their heads at the rampant display of egomania.
Not to fear! Dai Jakes to the rescue! *Puts Jakes cape on* Here look (below), ive made a handbag just for Oprah...


Suits you madam

Bongo Bongo Land

They drink it in the Congo you know

I had to chip in to this affair if only because of the opportunity to have an interesting title and use the classic Um Bongo advert from the 80s.
Godfrey Bloom (UKIP) has come under fire for being filmed declaring that Great Britain should not send foreign aid to "Bongo Bongo Land". Result? Lots of angry people shouting and Tweeting like Billy-O, claiming racism and that Mr Bloom has brought shame on the country. One wrote: "the Alan Clark tradition is one of extreme right-wing comedy which is designed to provoke."
Does it though? Am I the only person who thinks this is massive fuss over nothing? Well no, actually I am not because an African lady called LBC radio and knocked the nail bang on the head when she said, "Bongo Bongo land is not offensive, certainly not as offensive as white liberals always jumping in to try and defend blacks." Well said lady, this really needed saying after hearing all the other pompous guff that has been said online over this.
I don't think for one minute that Godfrey meant anything malicious when he said "Bongo Bongo Land". Crikey the late Alan Clark used the words himself, and it didn't do him any harm. That was many years ago though, we have become too sensitive as the years piled up. And just to be clear here, there is no place for racism in the 21st century. Racism is abhorrent and belongs only in the minds of knuckle-draggers and thugs. But "Bongo Bongo Land"? No worse than calling us Welsh "sheep sh*ggers", or the Australians "convicts" (which I saw Tweeted often during the last Ashes cricket match. Well done on that victory too!)
Like I say, we have become too sensitive, too ready to be offended and spout faux outrage on Twitter and Youtube. I shudder to think where its all heading, especially being a poet/writer where I am making up new names/titles every day. I don't wish to live under a constant dread of offending somebody by using those newly created names. Respect different cultures by all means, its the civilised way but let's not get so worked up over silly, throwaway names that should never be able to provoke such anger in the first place. We will bitterly regret it if we do, mark my words.

Great British Heatwave

Dryslwyn (pic by me)

Phew! How is everyone coping with this recent visit by the sun on British Isles? Had your fill of fans and ice cream yet? I must admit, im currently typing this right now whilst camped under a giant fan which is going like the clappers, keeping my inbuilt 'Weather Whinge-o-meter' in check (all Brits have this when too much rain or sun arrives.) Im certain complaining about the weather was written into the Magna Carta alongside tea breaks and fish & chips but you know what? I think we are changing our habits because I have not heard (or read rather) much of it on sites like Twitter and Facebook, indeed most folks are actually ENJOYING this run of fabulous weather! Shock! Horror!
Even with heatwave warnings approaching 'level 3' (whatever this means) the griping about "its too hot mun" or "the plants could do with some rain now" are being kept at minimum. Or at least it has amongst my friends and aquaintances. Its wonderful waking up to glorious sunshine piling in through the curtains like rays of butter, eager to settle on your morning toast. Spain has had nothing on Britain for this last week and I feel for those Brits who have paid for a Spanish holiday to escape our usual grey and miserable summer, only to discover that the grass was for once greener (and more frazzled) on the UK side of the fence.
And for any overseas readers who have yet to visit our shores, you really need to see Great Britain in the sun because it truly transforms into such a beautiful place. Cricket on lazy town greens. The wildly handsome Pembrokeshire coast, twinkling like mad diamonds. Riverside picnics as canal boats crawl past in idle fashion. The majesty of places like Lake Vyrnwy and the Lake District, still maps in God's mighty heart. Deckchairs on beaches while piers stretch out like bony fingers. Grand castles drenched in ancient history, offering damp shade within their walls to sweltering visitors. Carnivals, fishing fetes, happy Brits in eccentric poses, soaking up a much missed dose of summer.
I was only 5 years old in 1976 when we had that scorcher of a summer here in the UK but I do have specks of memories of it; I particularly recall the bone dry cricket pitch in Burry Port park and the burning pavements of Station Road, one of the main streets in the town. And I also remember the hungry queues in Barrie's Plaice waiting patiently for fish & chips, happily swapping local gossip. It was a wonderful time and this week, seeing photographs online of people taking a dip in the Serpentine Lido in Hyde Park and sun worshippers relaxing on various Welsh beaches has brought those memories back with a beautiful vengeance.
Now dear readers, you must excuse me, I have a date with a choc ice!

Britain Rules the Sport

What a fantastic weekend of sport it has been for us Brits! Dear God, I think the beer is flowing still! First the British & Irish Lions win the Test Series in Australia with a convincing display that showed we are streets ahead of the Aussies. Then (ad this was the biggie) Andy Murray became the first Brit in 77 years to win at Wimbledon, while on the same day Northern Ireland's Graeme McDowell took the French Open at the tough Le Golf National.
Fantastic! And it was even more brilliant for the still dizzy Mr Jakes because rugby, tennis and golf are my favourite sports.
Was this one of the greatest days in British sport? Its got to be in with a shout. Heck Murray getting a slam at Wimbledon makes it special without the rugger and golf but the triple whammy made for a grand three course sporting feast. And who knows? The Ashes series (cricket) against our arch rivals the Aussies begins on Wednesday and we have a good chance of winning those too. Oh so sweet is victory after a few years in the sporting doldrums! I really do believe our success at last years Olympics kick started it all, there is definitely a bit of that spirit lingering in our athletes.
However to misquote Shakespeare, the course of true sporting highs never did run smooth, and it would seem the First Minister of Scotland, Alex Salmond upset a few people by waving the Saltire (Scottish flag) in the Royal Box at Wimbledon. I personally think it a hulabaloo over nothing, I mean Andy Murray is Scottish, what was Salmond supposed to wave? The flag of Japan? I can assure you dear reader that if Dai Jakes ever created sporting history (I can dream!) then I would be extremely angry/saddened if the Welsh dragon, y Ddraig Goch, wasn't flying.
Still I don't want to end on a sour note when people are still buzzing from such a fabulous weekend, long may it continue, long may Britain become great once more not by the hostilities of our history but through the camaraderie of sporting events.

Wales Opt IN for Organ Donation

Last night Wales became the first country in Great Britain to introduce a policy of presumed consent for organ donation. The Human Transplantation Bill (in Wales) was approved by the National Assembly (43 in favour, only 8 against) so from 2015 people who have been a resident in Wales (18+ age) for more than 12 months will have to make it clear they do not wish to donate their organs, and if not then consent will be deemed to have been given.
Now inevitably there are have been murmurs of disagreement, and arguments from religious angles but on the whole, folk have thought it a positive step with some doctors admitting its very forward thinking of Wales.
Dai Jakes thoroughly approves too; it gives me a warm glow inside to think bits of my body will be living in someone else after ive shuffled off this mortal coil (providing any organs are of use of course!) A final good deed and triumphant last hurrah of a life lived well (or at least as well as one could.) Why not? Im sure there are clever philosophical arguments to be made against automatic organ donation but when all is said and done, you will be dead and being dead doesn't require petty things as limbs and eyeballs, trust me on this. You will either be spirit or dust.
Still not convinced by the always humble Mr Jakes? No worries! This isn't mandatory, having an opt out system for organ donation doesn't remove any rights from you so simply opt out. Easy. I could stir the pot and finish by saying, heck if you feel so strongly about it, carry a card which says, "Im A Selfish Person And Don't Want My Organs Used After Death ", but im in a fairly jovial mood today so I won't. Toodle pip for now!

More from Dodgy Dai's Britain

Due to yet more cut backs to our Army, at some point in the coming weeks, 4,480 military personnel will find themselves joining the ranks of the unemployed. And because of this coalition governments demonising the jobless and labelling them all as lazy scroungers; those former brave young soldiers will become scum. One day they are the nation's fine darlings with everyone applauding them and giving to Help For Heroes, a day later they will be bone idle wasters leeching off the state. From heroes to zeroes in the blink of an eye.

Bravo you suited wizards in Parliament!

Festival Snores

A man in mud yesterday

Glastonbury music festival is sh!t. There, I have said it seeing as everyone else is either too fooled by it or too afraid to speak out through fear of being labelled 'uncool'. And its not just 'Glasto' but festivals in general. I went to the Phoenix festival in 1995 and had probably the worst three days Id ever spent in jolly old England (and believe me, there's been a few.) Sheer purgatory.
These things are nothing more than people desperately trying to cling on to a rapidly disappearing youth. Its not even about the bands anymore as capitalism runs rampant with company brands and logos splashed over everything. Like I said, sh!t.
Ive heard Glastonbury described thus: "a brilliant celebration of performing arts, the circus field, the comedy tents, all kinds of stuff going on." Yeah and lets not forget the botulism from bad, overpriced food, open drug dealing, spotty cretins thieving from tents, risk of ebola from visiting the toilets and locals lives being made a misery while the party is in town. A party which doesn't even sound right because the sound quality at festivals is generally pretty poor. I think ferret sound engineers from Outer Akinzaboola are involved.
Even my beloved former 'Monsters of Rock' event has morphed into the dreadful sounding 'Download' festival (and stretched over the obligatory 3 days.) Im not suggesting festivals have always been bad but for the past 15 years or so they have certainly lost the plot. Oh and for what its worth, I have always thought the artists that have appeared at Glasto have been more miss than hit. Just another 2 cents to consider. Now I realise this will be almost blasphemous to some people so Id better sign off as there is only enough sacrilege a man can take in one day.

Justice for April Jones

No fun in the sun here

Yesterday the wretch that is Mark Bridger was given a whole life sentence for the murder of 5 year old April Jones. He will die in prison. And you know what? Dai Jakes is satisfied with that result. Long time readers of this blog will know by now that it is a supporter of the hangman and scaffold but for once there is relief that death will be a very long time coming (providing the Scum That Is Bridger doesn't hit upon some razor blades and a death wish.)
To begin with, he will be a Category A prisoner stuck in a prison within a prison with up to seven others on his disgusting kind. Single cage, monitored 24/7. Just one hour exercise, five days a week, clothes taken off him every evening, meals eaten in a cage after coming all the way from a kitchen (so you can imagine what they will be like when he receives them.) And certainly nobody will want to talk to the Scum That Is Bridger. He will forever be within a shout of the general population shouting out what they will do to him when they get him and chances are someone WILL get to him (they did Huntley and Whiting.) He will never be safe, never be able to trust anyone, never have a friend and best of all the Scum That Is Bridger will live in fear always until the end of his days. One way or another he will suffer every minute of ever day for this vile crime.

Compared to all of this, death would be so very easy.

Rest in peace April fach, justice has been done. Hedd, perfaith hedd x

No Sickness Please, We're British

I could have used the title of Metallica's debut album for this post, "Kill 'Em All", it would certainly be accurate. Why? Because its about ATOS, the wretched private firm that carries out our Government's work capability assessments. Today we hear the news about 49 year old Linda Wootton, a double heart and lung transplant patient who passed away NINE DAYS after her disability benefits were stopped and shockingly was told to go back to work.
This was a lady who was taking ten prescription drugs a day and suffered from renal failure, high blood pressure and blackouts. Sound fit to you? The wretched ATOS thought so because after an interviewed with them, they ruled against her and she was ordered to find a job. And this isn't the first time this has happened, Google 'Atos fit for work deaths' and you will be faced with multiple tragic stories. Tragedies that could well have been avoided if our Government hadn't decided to unleash a monster on the disabled. These words might sound harsh to some but they are forged out of anger and sadness at seeing my fellow man suffer even more than they already do.
Ladies and Gentlemen of Great Britain, the evidence is crystal clear. Both the wretched ATOS and the Department for Work and Pensions are utterly heartless and only pretend to be sympathetic to their victims. Don't believe it! And whoever makes these decisions for terminally sick people to find work should be put on trial for manslaughter.

To Drummer Lee Rigby

In Loving Memory

This blog will ignore the perpetrators of the truly barbaric murder that occurred on Wednesday. It will not even mention their names, they do not deserve an ounce of attention (sadly our media have given them more than enough but I realise its their job.) Instead this post will remember the victim, 25 year old Drummer Lee Rigby of 2nd Battalion the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers.
Rest easy soldier, tragically cut down way before your time. Your country mourns you and is forever in your debt. One of the most heart breaking tributes I read yesterday was a note left near the spot where he died. It was penned by one of the women who cradled the dying man and read:

"I held you as you died, Im so sorry I couldn't do more for you but you will live with me now for the rest of my life, in my heart Im sorry I couldn't do more and hope you are at peace."

Oh how the tears fell! Imagine the guilt and pain of someone who had no reason to feel guilty of anything? The horror of that situation, a kind soul wanting to give more but was unable because help was beyond the grasp of mortal hands. I still cannot read it without feeling a tear roll down my cheek and as well as sending best wishes to Drummer Rigby and his loved ones, I send the same to those three women who the nation, indeed the world, saw cradling this brave young soldier in his final moments.

Captain Alan Williamson, Adjutant Second Fusiliers said this of his comrade: "Riggers was a cheeky and humorous man, always there with a joke to brighten the mood." And you can clearly see this in the photograph. The sparkle is in his eyes, the 'cheekiness' playing around his mouth as if ready at any moment to crack a joke. One of the good guys, you can tell.

Rest in peace and much respect Drummer Rigby, a nation mourns you.

Human Spirit in Oklahoma

Lethal force

As if we needed a reminder of mother nature's awesome power, she decided we needed a jolt anyway by letting loose one of the strongest tornadoes ever recorded through Moore, a suburb of Oklahoma City in America. At time of writing, 91 people have died, including many children. To touch on the dramatic, like a Great White shark sent by God Himself, it destroyed everything unfortunate enough to stand in its path.
Humans throughout the ages have been the architects and authors of some wonderful inventions and words of wisdom, however we are truly puny when struck against the infinite might of nature. Mortality has its (frail) limits. Luckily for us, we are strong in spirit and Dai Jakes is certain that with the help of the generous and kind, the good people of Moore, Oklahoma will be shown a helping hand in rebuilding lives and homes. Nothing will bring back those who perished of course, and they will be in everyones thoughts and prayers.
I like to think there is a lesson in every tragedy though and the photograph below sums up both the devastation and the humble reality of what occurred in Oklahoma last night. Written on that sign found among the rubble are the words: the most important things in life are not things. Food for thought indeed.


A sign of hope?

A Beetle A Day

Yum, Tasty

The UN Agency have said that 'bugs are the food of the future' and that caterpillars, beetles and wasps could supplement diets as "an environmentally friendly food source." Eva Mueller, director of forest economics at the FAO said, "the main message is really: 'Eat insects'. Insects are abundant and they are a valuable source of protein and minerals."
Well Dai Jakes is way ahead of you Ms Mueller because ive been snacking on bugs for a few years now. Indeed that's me up there in the above picture tucking into salt n' vinegar crickets (bought at Manor House in Tenby.) And you know what? They're very tasty (once you get over the idea of a fistful of creepy crawlies.) Admittedly they are not very filling but then again, neither is a bag of crisps. And don't worry about the 'ick factor', they are dried insects so there is nothing slimy going on. Best I can describe is that it feels like you have sawdust and salt in your mouth. Pop down to Manor House and grab yourself a box, you might surprise yourself!
Of course Eva, the UN and this blog can sing the praises of wasp butties until the earwigs come home, I doubt it will get folk swapping a wonderful pastie from Jenkins bakery in favour of a caterpillar roll. (Probably a good thing too, those Jenkins pasties really are fabulous.)

But thanks to a wonderfully adventurous spirit, Mr Jakes must be years ahead of his time.

A Small Taste of Pot

Sweet leaf?

Ageing stoners can sing the praises of cannabis until the cows come home, even sheep and horses but look at the people it attracts (taken from an article in todays Mail on Sunday):

"I meet an Albanian hash baron, through a British gangster. He warns me in advance that Ivan is ‘a right nutter’ before adding: ‘They are the maddest, baddest people I’ve ever met. Step out of line and they murder you."

So, even if the miserable stuff is safe (which its most certainly not) it still has the lethal potential to create victims purely because of the shady nature of its business and the hoodlums it attracts. And if you make it legal, it will still attract these vicious types because to some it is all they know and they will seek to undercut legitimate sellers. Face it, this is world that contains some very dodgy characters indeed, regardless what harm you think cannabis does or does not do. A place where killing and skullduggery are all too common, and as ive said, this creates innocent victims as well as those who some might say deserve it.
All because a few wretchedly selfish pot smokers want to fry their minds.

*And yes I am a frequent drinker of alcohol but im not so naïve to think its harmless if abused.

To Bethena

I missed your love and kindness,
your soul of souls,
but beauty with its assorted delinquents and trinkets
never fades or wilts,
and 'tho I nest amongst adders in the dawn
I am at the gentle mercy of you always.
Those eyes, that smile,
a face which had all the answers
and hangs forever, a portrait in my chest.
Oh to have known you darling Bethena!
To have held your hand
and walked with you, both poets on fire,
a furious blaze all together smothering the page.

I gaze into your eyes, those chessnut pools
and know what might have been
is happening now in the emerald garden
where your delicate touch is freezing the furies.
Bethena! Gone before your time
but time itself will be your tribute
as those you Love remember you,
and this ode, testament of your inspiration
which reshaped the horizons of a distant hand.
Oh to have known you!
But content am I to know that you live on,
triumphed over crocodiles
and sending Love in butterflies...

©Steven Francis poems 2010

Remembering you today, 12 years on x

Sympathy For The Devil

Tamping mun!

After reading a few myths and legend stories recently, I have come around to wondering whether or not we may have got it wrong about the devil. Don't believe me? Check out the story behind the Devil's Bridge in Ceredigion for example. Local legend has it that 'ol Forked Tail built the bridge since the task was too difficult for mere mortals. So a deal was struck for the devil to knock up a bridge on the proviso that he would receive the soul of the first person who crossed it. Poor chap. (My local Chamber of Trade would never have allowed THAT deal *smiles*)
But alas the devil never did get his soul because he was tricked by an old lady. Seems she threw some crusty bread onto the newly built bridge, which caused her dog to go after it (who doesn't like crusty bread?) thus making it the first life to cross the 'Devil's Bridge'. What happened then is unknown but I should imagine the fallen angel looked a tad cross and muttering, "curses! Foiled again!" To himself as he walked away soulless.
And there are a lot of other similar tales of Satan, the supposed 'great deceiver' being hoodwinked by some wily mortal (usually an old crone or beggar.) Could it be that the Horned One is not as shrewd as he is made out to be? His wickedness is not in question but be that as it may, Mr Jakes wouldn't fear him in a game or six (six six) of poker.

In Care of a Mortal Thread

Hedd, Perfaith Hedd

This could be an extension to an earlier post about the frailness of life, and however much a heavy heart that is behind the force that wills me to write it, write I must.
Such dreadful news last week when we heard of the mini bus crash on the M62 near Pontefract which killed one girl and seriously injured a dozen others (indeed the bride to be may never walk again.) On their merry way to celebrate a hen party, about as far from the thoughts of death as you could ever hope to be, and in an instant their world is cruelly shattered forever. A sobering jerk back into dreadful reality.
What a foul blow! How mercilessly each and every one of us are shadowed by death; a fragile thread which anchors us to life but at any second could end with less force than a sparrows heartbeat. One breeze less than the flicker of a flame. Such gentle turbulence that carries mortals onward through collared mists, on roads, on seas and valleys of wild woods.
This should serve as a reminder that however bad life may seem, the clockwork of the heart must continue or else be doomed to an even earlier grave, where the cancer of misery cuts down human roots without pity or care. Death is not a solves solver of problems, it simply hides them better while sadness cuts to the quick.
Think on these tragic incidents when the smile fades.

RIP Bethany Jones, may the softest lullabies sing you to your rest.

London ~ Boston

United

In a show of respect and support to victims of the Boston bombings, a 30 second silence will be held at the start of todays London marathon. Also, most of the 36,000 runners will wear black ribbons as a gesture of solidarity with the people of Boston. Dai Jakes won't be running but figured I could show my support too, so made this badge.

Enjoy, run well and peace!

The Fragile Mighty

Souls in the rain

What a dreadful week! Mr Jakes is happy as frothy ale to see its tail~end. First we had the sickening news of the Boston Marathon bombing, then we had the depressing funeral of Baroness Thatcher, and as a triple whammy (you know just make us feel extra secure in our mortality) we learned of a devastating explosion at a fertiliser plant in West Texas that killed 14 (at last count) and injured many, many more. Oh and breaking news as I type is that we are hearing of an earthquake in China where 124 have been killed and over 600 injured in the Sichuan province.
Dear me, how fragile are we? Mankind; all conquering with an unrivalled history of both destruction and creativity, (no beast could ever match our thirst for knowledge) and yet 'clothed' in mortal flesh that makes us as vulnerable as a cobweb in a meat grinder. Be grateful we possess a spirit that can seemingly withstand all the horrors the planet throws at us, or we would be crushed like mice under the mighty wing of an eagle. Of course life often reminds us just how puny we truly are, however much build and strengthen our kingdoms. We can never overcome unseen forces at work, as to Mother Nature we are but delicate babes in very mortal arms.

Each step a gift, each step into an unknown future which could meet End at any second.

A Good Promise

Death lurks in the shadows. It plots and plans, then pounces to maim and kill. To destroy and take away any scrap of happiness you may have. To ruin thy life, that is deaths aim in this world (but not the next.) It wants to take away your fun and replace it with black holes of mourning. Death has no heart as it showed yet again last night when news of the dreadful bombing of the Boston marathon was announced to the world. And the very spirit of death walked tall, blooming in its macabre cloak, prowling amidst a horrified and bloodied crowd of thousands.
But do you know what stood taller? What shined brighter than a million diamonds adrift at the foot of the ocean? It was human. Those brave folks, who after the explosions had spread their miserable carnage, went out and tended to the dying and grievously wounded without care for their own skin. Those bent figures were not bowing at all! Evil must never forget this. All of those figures were shards of good, the un~killable good, who after receiving a body blow will shrug it off and gather its pieces (the mortal flesh) to heal and live again.

Good will always triumph over evil for you cannot break the human spirit.

Welcome to the (Death) Party

Cin Cin?

A wise poet once said, "do not dance on your enemies grave, for tomorrow your friend dies." The people planning on holding 'death parties' in celebration of Margaret Thatchers death would do well to heed these words. Its perfectly monstrous to think that human beings could stoop so low as to want to raise a glass to a fellow humans passing. How low can ye go? Baroness Thatcher might not have been everyones cup of tea (to say the least) but at the end of the day, this was a very ill 87 year lady who has left us and it is hardly time for celebration. Not if you fancy keeping a shred of humanity and dignity.
The time for cheering was when Lady T resigned. All the hatred aimed at her in life has no purpose now but to serve anger itself because she is in her eternal sleep of jewelled flowers and golden tea, where drafts of rage can no longer touch her. And considering how the Iron Lady would have swatted any petty criticism aside like a tiger toying with a shrew when she was alive, I cannot think how these foul sounding 'death parties' will be anything other than proof of how low man can sink. Only the most ignorant and stupid will gain a scrap of joy from popping a cork over a coffin.
And these are generally the liberal types who have the gall to call me barbaric for supporting the death penalty! Listen, the next time you fellows accuse me (and the Conservatives) of being uncaring, cruel and evil, Mr Jakes will remind them of this behaviour.

Baroness Thatcher 1925 ~ 2013

Baroness Margaret Thatcher has died. A colossal figure of the 20th century and of this there is no doubt. What is also in no doubt is the fact that she divided the nation, some loved her, other hated her but regardless of your political views, celebrating an elderly ladies death (indeed anyones death) is never acceptable. But alas low people will always show their colours and some are using social media to foam at the mouth in pathetic glee. I shall speak no more of them.

Rest in peace Margaret. Many despised you, many feared you, many misunderstood you. I didn't. As far as I'm concerned, you were one of the best politicians Great Britain ever had. Girl power proper and if half the politicians nowadays had your backbone this country wouldn't be the mess it is now.
Maggie, you are now in a much better place and I will leave the final words with you (words which could be a 'motto' to this blog in fact): "I love argument. I love debate. I don't expect anyone just to sit there and agree with me - that's not their job."

Scum.dotcom

Says it all?

They say that the devil makes work for idle hands, and in the horrible case of Mick Philpott, its true. Philpott, his wife and a friend are due for sentencing this morning over a fire that killed 6 of his children. All because he didn't want to give up the £1000 in benefits they gave him. No more a father, than a terrible 'spermbot' made flesh.
Very few photographs say SCUM louder than that of this vile man. Bullied his mother. Attempted murder of an ex girlfriend. Scrounger supreme. Some would say (look at the Daily Mail up there) a living illustration of 'benefits Britain'. And when you see what this family received in state handouts, its hard to argue against it; £60,000 a year, 2 50" Plasma televisions, caravan, anything they asked for it would seem. Reports of his sordid lifestyle will certainly harden public attitude to welfare reform.
Choose any national newspaper today and you can read all about Philpott's antics but im appalled at some attempting to paint wife, Mairead, as a victim. A victim? Really? Sorry but I don't see it myself, all I see is another contemptible person, all too eager to partake in 'dogging' escapades (sex with strangers.) An utterly abhorrent and shabby couple. Hard to believe human beings can sink so low.
So what to do with them? Well I heard a lawyer earlier on the radio say that he cannot see a sentence of less than life in prison for all three of these cretins. Lets hope so! I sincerely hope that when the jail door closes, the next time it opens for them is feet first.

Kongle Flux

Router is dead at the moment for some techie reason (that is sadly beyond my skills) so im currently and most definately OFFLINE. Bugger. Also its that most dreaded of days; a sober sunday. Double bugger. Barman! I will have a glass of cyanide and a rope, and im counting on you to kick the chair from under me. Laughs Out Loud. Actually im not THAT bad (yet) but being without the interweb beast is certainly annoying. And its.....different. Like a made up word that sounds familiar but is totally nonsense. Let me think. Kongle Flux. Yes, thats it! Being offline is truly Kongle Flux.
Yes, yes im well aware we coped before the advent of WWW and its furry little dotcoms but now that its here, life when its not here seems emptier. And I know that sounds awfully tragic in a basement dweller type way but its true! Im not talking about updating Facebook statuses or Tweeting sports scores here either, I mean the convenience of researching dates and facts, or gathering intel for journeys such as the best routes, road closures, etc. Without the webby, I am at the mercy of radio and that horrible television when local news comes on. I feel cut off. Infertile even. Like a Buddhist without his chants. Or Barry John without his kicking togs.

*Fastforward 9 hours and its a pleasure to be back!

The Other Thomas

Poet R.S. Thomas

On this Good Friday, we also celebrate 100 years since the birth of R.S. Thomas, one of Wales' greatest poets. (He was also an Anglican priest.) It has been said that Thomas found communicating with God hard, indeed many even thought him an athiest but I think this is to miss the point completely. Read his works and you will soon discover that Thomas used his poetry to reveals his 'version' of God. A God that shows Himself in small doses if you will, through nature which was featured heavily in his beautiful work.
Work, that much like my own poetry, was not written with a solid idea or agenda in mind before putting pen to paper, but words and imagery that unfolded as soon as he wrote. What I like to call 'living poetry'. It really is a joy to read.

Night Sky by R.S. Thomas

What they are saying is
that there is life there, too:
that the universe is the size it is
to enable us to catch up.

They have gone on from the human:
that shining is a reflection
of their intelligence. Godhead
is the colonisation by mind

of untenanted space. It is its own
light, a statement beyond language
of conceptual truth. Every night
is a rinsing myself of the darkness

that is in my veins. I let the stars inject me
with fire, silent as it is far,
but certain in its cauterising
of my despair. I am a slow

traveller, but there is more than time
to arrive. Resting in the intervals
of my breathing, I pick up the signals
relayed to me from a periphery I comprehend.

When Sky Lights Scramble A Wired Brain

UFO? What I saw.

I am no fan of Star Trek and space capers so im not one quick to subscribe to stories of UFOs and alien abduction. Indeed much of it I look at as the crazy ramblings of drunkards and attention seekers, eager to find their way into those late night news slots after the important events have been covered and they're looking for light entertainment. Of course this doesn't necessarily mean I discard tales of "little green men" completely. In fact I honestly-to-my-bones don't believe we are alone in this universe, of course I don't, afterall the universe is a pretty vast place and there must be SOMETHING else out there, even its just different coloured grass. These has to be life elsewhere.
But I don't go around (like some do) believing that every strange light the the nighttime sky is down to E.T. Remember, the military have some pretty neat looking pieces of flying kit which can seem very alien to the civilian eye. Especially a civilian brought up on Star Wars and Dr Who. Imagination is a powerful thing, with no limit to the amount of weird images that can be conjured up. When the sun goes down, a science fiction fan can easily transform a Chinook helicopter into the Millenium Falcon. My minds eye is not as easily fooled.
However on the evening of November 17th, 2009 at around 11pm, I DID witness something strange in the sky. Admittedly one might put it down to the fact I had been at the scotch but I was not falling down drunk and seeing things. Also my wife was at my side and she rarely drinks. No this was something....different. If it convinced me it must have been because even when merry on whisky im not one to be persuaded by unicorns and yetis. As we both stood shocked, I couldn't quite orchestrate my thoughts. There was no fear (probably the booze helped there) and no instant panic. Just silence as we watched this craft hover for around two or three minutes. It was made all the more intense because we live on a hill in a very rural area so the only light came from this glassy looking beast, there are no other house lights, streetlights or traffic to catch and maybe confuse the eye.
Other people who have witnessed UFOs have reported hearing low humming sounds but there was no sound to this curious sight on a usually very uneventful Carmarthenshire hillside.
As for colours, I have always imagined UFOs to be neon green and red thanks to a spinning toy I had as a boy but as you can see in my shabbily drawn sketch (made on my computers painting programme) this one was mainly orange and yellow with streaks of light blue. The orange was most vivid and is most 'alive' im my mind when I picture it.
It disappeared as quickly as it arrived and left me, the cynic supreme, with a new appreciation of just how wild and wonderful this life, this universe is.

World Poetry Day

Its World Poetry Day today so thought I would share a couple of my pieces with you. Mwynhewch! Enjoy!


Dim Haul Dros Gleision (No Sun Over Gleision)

There was no sun that day
when four miners lights went out for good;
the cave mouth stretched into an endless hymn
as hawks and kinder birds carved the sky
to guide spirits to their rest.
Heroes of an unforgiving underworld,
the earthly tomb,
kingdom of the black.
While I and all of Wales tipped hands to God
four blinded roots were pulled
and the red dragon's one lifted claw
was raised a little higher in honour of the men.
Gartref bois! Home!
From the eyeless santuary of the pit
to the Valleys call,
our father's land
where you will have the symphony of a nation's hearts
to sing you to your rest,

A bydd yr haul ddim farw nawr...
(and the sun won't die now)

© Steven Francis poems 2011

In loving memory of Phillip Hill, Charles Breslin, David Powell and Garry Jenkins, rest in peace my Welsh brothers. Hedd Perfaith Hedd.

**** The Furnace Fields ****

As I close my eyes at troubled times
I am welcomed back to the Furnace fields,
that holy land
where wood fell over itself to be wood
and wild was the beauty like fires over California.
Furnace fields!, live long inside my dreadlocked mind,
grow snakes and newts in crispy ferns
to guard against the wretched clock.
Offer me a pond so that I may sink into oblivion,
flushing tyres and telephones from a plastic bowel;
bury me oh mighty field
let my siren be quiet within those fishy roots...

@ Steven Francis poems 2011

Inspired by the old Furnace fields in Burry Port

Wales Win (again)

WINNING!

Dai iawn Cymru fach! 2013 6 Nations rugby champions! Lets remind ourselves of the full time score shall we: Wales 30 England 3. The wheels of the chariot fell OFF OFF OFF lulz as they say on teh internet. Da iawn eto Cymru!

St Plastics Day

Right on!

It is that time of year again when thousands of non Irish (or Irish because a great great uncle once removed was) pretend to be Ireland's favourite son. *Sigh* St Patrick's Day has become as bloated as Halloween and Christmas. An obscene parody of Irish played through the eyes of plastic 'Irishmen' and for a Celt it makes for uncomfortable viewing because it feels like our race, our traditions are being poked fun at by the mindless hordes. Believe you me, a pub full of grown adults dressed as Leprechauns singing out of tune Irish rebel songs is a very bitter caricature indeed.
Why do people (Americans in particular) do it? Faux Irish bars bursting at the walls with people guzzling foul looking (and no doubt tasting) green beer and wearing those dreadful "Kiss Me Im Irish" tee shirts. You do realise you are offending the real Irish right? (Although I guess not since you are still doing it.)
Of course there will be a few who think im just being a jealous Welshman, envious of Irelands dominance in the days of patron Saints but not at all! It would make me perfectly sick to my stomach to see St David's Day go the same way as St Patrick's Day. I love Irealnd and visit regularly (its only a short hop from Wales) and though Irish folk are the most welcoming and friendly people you are ever likely to meet on this planet, I know that some get mightily annoyed by 'bandwagon jumpers' on St Patrick's Day. And quite right too! Hell for the other 364 days of the year they don't give a toss about Ireland. It goes beyond fake and divebombs straight into cringeworthy. Give your heads a shake!

But to all on the beautiful Emerald Isle I say, Go bhfillead go hÉirinn go brách ! You'll know its for you as you wont have to use Google translate.

The Tonypandy Terror

‎It has been one hundred years today since the birth of Wales' finest boxers (or one of them), the Rhondda born fighter Tommy Farr. Known as the "Tonypandy Terror", he became British & Empire heavyweight champion on 15 March 1937. Few (re: none) would argue his deserved lofty place in the ranks of greatest British hevyweights.

On 30 August 1937, Tommy gained the respect of the boxing world when for a whopping purse of $60,000 (a huge amount in those days), he fought world heavyweight champion Joe Louis at the Yankee Stadium in New York, and despite losing out due to a controversial points decision after 15 rounds, his place in sporting history was set forever. Never forget that the "Brown Bomber" (and these nicknames are delicious to a writer) was one of the greatest heavyweights of all time, who had knocked out 8 of his previous 9 opponents (and KO'd the next 7) but that mattered not a jot as the Bomber was mercilessly pumelled and hurt by the Tonypandy Terror in one of the hardest battles of his life.
The crowd thought Farr had won. And evidently referee Arthur Donovan did too because he was seen shaking Farr's hand after the bout, seemingly congratulating the Welsh fighter on a job well done. The 50,000 audience booed when Louis was awarded the narrow points decision.

Thanks to the wonders of video (with a nod to Youtube) you can watch it all here. Tommy Farr died in 1986 on St. David's Day aged 72 but he lives on in the hearts and memories and Welshmen and fight fans the world over. Long live the Tonypandy Terror! Cymru Am Byth.

Halo Of Death

Thrill Kill?

In the Mail today there is a story about the Navy SEAL who killed Osama Bin Laden. Got no problem so far. Until I scroll to the middle part of the story and im faced with this;
"'That time I used my EOTech red-dot holo sight. He was dead. Not moving. His tongue was out. I watched him take his last breaths, just a reflex breath.
'And I remember as I watched him breathe out the last part of air, I thought: Is this the best thing I've ever done, or the worst thing I've ever done? This is real and that's him. Holy sh**. 'His forehead was gruesome. It was split open in the shape of a V. I could see his brains spilling out over his face."

Heavens to Betsy Ross! He sounds like he actually enjoyed it! Was there need to be so graphic in the details? Who on earth wants to read such grim descriptions? Go read a Mo Hayder novel if that is your thing, she's quite brilliant in her own deviant way at painting grisly scenes of gore and brain spillage (and thats not criticism, im a big Mo fan.)
In this last decade or so it seems to be the done thing for ex military to reveal all in their memoirs but must we know everything? Is the public really desperate to learn about brains spilling over dying faces? I would have thought we get enough of that from Hollywood. And before readers begin to think im some yoghurt knitting liberal, I am not (in fact im as far from liberal as you could ever hope to find,) im simply questioning the apparent need to mop up every bullet and drop of blood from the battlefield like some excitable teenager playing Call Of Duty.

For myself, Id prefer to be spared the details thank you very much. You know what they say, less is more.

Cry Me A Rivers

Joan was unavailable for photos

So Joan Rivers appeared on David Letterman’s show and called cockney songbird Adele "fat". She joked: “What is her song? Rolling In The Deep? She should add Fried Chicken.” And our tabloids have rushed to Adele's defence like the guardians of morality they surely are *cough*
Excuse me but have they forgotten that Joan is a comedian? And besides having a pop at others, she isn't afraid to include herself in the pee~taking, in fact she routinely pokes fun at herself so it isn't like she's afraid to taste her own medicine. Let's not forget, Britain has birthed its fair share of near-the-knuckle comics from Monty Python to Bernard Manning. Go seek out out an early Manning show (probably on Youtube) and see for thyself, but be warned, make sure theres no ethnic minorities or even the elderly nearby.
I will be the first to admit that Joan was bang out of order with the Holocaust/Klum remark, that was totally wrong but her comments toward Adele were in my opinion pretty tame and although I can't speak for Adele, if it was me they were aimed at then I wouldn't have a problem. (And im sure the singer feels the same, afterall she's a Brit like me, we have thick skins and take the mickey out of each all the time.) Being called fat? No drama.
Folks ought to know by now that Ms Rivers has an acerbic wit and most annoying is the fact that Americans have nobody who is able to stand up to her with razor sharp repartee. Imagine a scenario of Joan and Sir Winston Churchill together onstage? That would be awesome to behold! Remember the exchanges between Sir Winnie and Lady Nancy Astor? Google them if you don't and you will see what I mean.

By the way I can't believe Joan was born in 1931. She looks fabulous for 79! Yes yes, we are all aware she has had cosmetic surgery but seriously, it doesn't bother me a jot. I think she looks stunning. In fact having just been browsing photos of her in younger days, Id say she looks better today. Good for Joan, and I for one applaud her sense of humour.

Happy St. David's Day All!

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Sant hapus i chi gyd! Happy Saint David's Day everyone! Mr Jakes will sadly be missing out on the Cawl because I had more than my fair share of the Welsh Manna yesterday (and Duw it was great) but there will be Welshcakes for tea and seeing as its friday, a few pints of Felinfoel Ale for supper.

To be born in Wales,
Not with a silver spoon in your mouth,
But, with music in your blood
And with poetry in your soul,
Is a privilege indeed.

Taken from the poem "In Passing" written in 1967 by Brian Harris

God bless St. David and God bless Wales

Playstation 4

Ubisoft's Watch Dogs

Wednesday 11pm saw gamers huddle around their laptops,iPads,etc to watch the live announcememt of Sony's new console, Playstation 4. And as a fan who has been the Playstation since it first surfaced back in 1995, I expected to be skipping on rainbows of ecstasy like a giddy schoolgirl by the end of it (forgetting the fact im now 41.) I dont care what anyone says, there is a curious thrill about the unveiling of a new videogame console. I was stunned by Wipeout (PS1), KO'd by Resident Evil 2 (PS2) and even swooned over Motorstorm when that hit Playstation 3 in 2007. Im not ashamed by this, its what you get if you give a boy an Oric 1 for Christmas in 1983.
So it is with great sadness that after admitting all of the above, the Playstation 4 announcementleft me slightly cold. Not quite sub zero cold, (more like tee shirt in March cold) but I was certainly not overheating in anticipation of pixelated rapture. I think it was all the talk of "social media" and sharing on Facebook/Twitter that did it. Sorry Sony but I just want to play VIDEOGAMES, im not in the least bit interested in posting scores on Facebook or challenging Twitter followers to online races. I simply want to slip a game into the console and smite weird beasties to kingdom come. Balls to Facebook. Im old fashioned like that. Its nothing new of course, theres already a ton of places on teh interwebz that use social networking sites to share folks interests, and fine some people like that kind of thing but it doesn't boil my kettle im afraid. (Reading comments on forums and underneath news stories about PS4, im not alone either.)
As for the Playstation 4 being able to predict what game you might be interested in and downloading it automatically? I hope we'll be able to disable that nonsense. (Im being dragged into the future kicking and screaming Laughs Out Loud.)
Thankfully things start to look up on the gaming side of things. This is why we're here afterall! Watch Dogs got me most interested (see the trailer above) as did Killzone: Shadow Fall. I didn't notice a huge difference graphically to PS3 (even when a Evolution developer waffled about "even the suede on the car seats has a direction") but as time goes on, game designers will learn how best to squeeze the most OOMPH out of the machine. We didn't get to see any sports titles (or was I asleep?) and I can't wait to see how a NFL or golf game looks on Playstation 4.
Unfortunately we also didn't get to see what the actual console looked like either so fanboys will have to make do with gawking at the new DualShock 4 joypad, complete with touchscreen and LED tracker. Looks a little rubbery but I quite like it. The screen on the pads front reminding me of the Dreamcast's VMU. Speaking of older consoles, as a RetroHead backwards compatabilty is important to me so I was a tad miffed to learn that PS1, 2 and 3 games will be available via Playstation 4’s cloud service. So no using my original copy of Tombi or Yakuza then? Bah! Happy they will be available in some form though.
I realise this started on a downer with the Facebook sharing side of things but I am quite excited about Playstation 4. Its just (obviously) not the mind blowing transition I experienced going from Oric to MegaDrive to Playstation back in those wilderness years.


DualShock 4

Here are some games that we got a glimpse of:

Watch Dogs (Ubisoft)
Killzone: Shadow Fall (Guerrilla)
Diablo III (Blizzard)
DriveClub (Evolution)
Deep Down (Capcom)
Destiny (Bungie)


DriveClub

No Heavy Petting

Vintage: Jubilee Pool, Llanelli

Was thinking about the Marina in Swansea earlier and I got to thinking how much swimming pools have changed since I was a young boyo growing up in the 1970's/80's. I was what my grandmother called a "water baby" because I loved swimming and spent a fair amount of time at the Jubilee pool in Llanelli, jumping from top board, 'bombing' friends. (In fact I will go as far as to claim I was one of the first ten year olds in Strade school to actually dive from the highest board.)

But the changes from the 'baths' then to now are are as different as a graceful dive is to a bellyflop.

First off, the water seems warmer in todays sports centers.

Pools of yesteryear always had a foot bath linking changing room to swimming pool. Don't see them these days.

Swimming pools used to have a gutter running around the edges, as well as the occasional handrail.

The "No Heavy Petting" signs have disappeared.

Ditto the frightening grates in the middle of the deep end. I used to imagine all kinds of underwater leviathans inhabited those, convinced a slimy claw would reach out from the darkness if you dared get too near and pull you to your doom.

Leisure centers used stink of chlorine which would linger on you all day. Coming home on the bus you could always tell if someone had visied Jubilee pool. The potent stink has gone, along with hamburgers. Ah yes in Llanelli baths they didnt sell regular beefburgers, you got hamburgers (which were rather tasty if my tastebuds remember rightly.)

Jailhouse Justice

No heroes they

This week a child killers body was found murdered in a cell at HMP Long Lartin in Worcestershire. And you know something? Dai Jakes won't lose a wink of sleep over it, I feel not an ounce of pity for those who torture and kill children. What is troubling however is the amount of people calling the two suspected murderers 'heroes', and even going so far as suggesting they should be released. And yes you read that right, released. Go to any online edition of a newspaper who is running this story and in the comments section underneath you will read plenty of support for this bit of 'jailhouse justice'. (The same thing is happening on various internet forums.)
Have ye all gone mad? HMP Long Lartin accomodates Category A prisoners, some of the most dangerous inmates in Britain, and folk want a couple to go free? Okay sure, let them out, why not? Afterall they probably only raped or killed people themselves eh? So fine release them for bad behaviour (murder remember?) and do away with justice for THEIR victims. Sound good? No, not to me either. You see the trouble with 'jailhouse justice' (besides the whole moral side of it) is it makes prisoners feel they are on the same level as law abiding citizens who foolishly believe that their 'good deed' wipes the slate clean. Newsflash: they are not, and it doesn't. Heroic? No, its just bad men offing bad men.

Safety Catch Off

Mr Jakes and friend in rehab

I am not a fan of Paul Gascoigne but I have been where he is in regards to drinking so he has my best wishes. However I fear this is a story that is doomed to end in tears. Footballers and celebrity friends can throw all the money they want towards rehab costs but money means NOTHING to addiction. It is worthless. It is like trying to treat cancer with wine gums and doc leaves. Believe me, and I really do not wish to dwell on negativity here, I have looked into the eyes of an alcoholic who has given up the ghost and Gascoigne has the exact same look about him. And famous friends won't help. Or their money.
In fact where on earth were these friends to allow him to get so bad? Lonliness plays a huge part in alcoholism (especially when one finally gets clean), so where was the concern over Paul then? It seems to me that unless the ex footballer is in dire needs and on death's door, his so called friends let him get on with it. They are nowhere to be seen. Of course when his flame burned brightest (Italia 1990? Im not a football fan) they flocked to his 'glow' but come the arrival of the doldrums they disappear like Dodos. This has been the saddest thing to witness for me, the empty smiles in newspapers, knowing he's probably weeping inside.
A friend of Gascoigne has said, "it could be a long road to recovery." Quite. It is the longest road of all. (Or shortest depending on how quick one is picking up a bottle again.) Money is not going to help here. It might soothe a few consciences of those who feel the pangs of guilt, but throwing money at an alcoholic who looks hellbent on drinking no matter what is pure folly. I really hope he can get sober but excuse me having mega doubts that he will. You have to want to do it but worryingly Paul looks like he doesn't. In fact he reminds me so much of the late George Best, who was another filled with promises of never drinking again, blah blah, blah and yet only stopped when it killed him.
In all of my long time as a drinker (and having had another alcoholic in the family), ive heard and seen it all, and it hurts me to say it but I know the look of the beaten. The look of a person completely surrendering to alcohol. The look of Paul Gascoigne.

Betray the Wind

My name is Despair

Paul Gascoigne is a doomed man. I fear he has reached the point of no return, I really do. A paper recently ran a story claiming that the ex footballer is "hooked on a mix of valium and strong lager," and pictured him buying booze at 11am. It also said that 'Gazza' has told his friends: "The one thing I can't live without in my life is a drink. I know I have to stop boozing but I simply can’t."
If this is true (lets face it tabloids are hardly gospel) then all the help being offered to him is hopeless. This is one battle that nobody can fight for him and unless he hits a 'moment of clarity' soon, real soon, he will be dead before 50. Killed by the bottle like that other gifted footballer, George Best. He was another man who believed alcoholism was a fight he could leave to others to sort out. Then he died, and Gascoigne will too unless he has a drastic turnaround. Believe me, alcohol is no fun to those unfortunates to whom it sinks its lethal claws. In moderation it can be beneficial to health, while in excess it becomes as destructive as any class A drug (more so perhaps because it seems to affect more organs but i'll leave that to experts.)
It is always terribly sad to see any person in such a state but the truth is like I have already said, nobody can save himelf can actually save him from himself. I know only too well the agony and despair of alcoholism, and I also know the loss of losing a loved one through it. It is vile, capable of hanging, drawing and quartering the very spirit of a human being. And to those who call Gascoigne a worthless drunk with no self control, think again. He is in a place right now where I would not wish my worst enemy to be. A dreadful place with bleak never ending walls wherever one turns, that choke light and swallow hope. I know because I have been there many times. Nobody would willingly put themselves in this hole; no fun is to be found there for as sure as alcohol can give a 'normal' person a glow of happiness and well being, to someone in the pits of addiction it offers only cold stings and sickly barbs that pull at flesh and make it hard to carry on.
Football hero he might be, I have no love for the sport so im not aware of Gascoigne's 'genius', but I do care for my fellow man when I see him suffering and I wish him all the strength and courage in the world because he needs it right now. He really does.