Land of Vimto

 

Loosely based on the lyrics of Down Under by Men at Work

 

 

LAND OF VIMTO

 

 

Travelling in to Piccadilly

 

on Arriva Trains, heads all a Zombie

 

I met a strange lady in the gardens

 

she took me in and gave me Vimto.

and she said

 

Do you come from the land of Vimto

 

where women groan and men meander

 

Can't you hear, can't you hear my blender

 

full of, full of fruits, cast asunder!

 

Buying the dead from a man in Blackley,

 

he told me he came from Chorlton cum Hardy.

 

I said do you speak a my language

 

He just smiled and gave me

 

a fish paste sandwich

and he said

 

Do you come from the land of Vimto

 

where women groan and men meander

 

Can't you hear, can't you hear my blender

 

full of, full of fruits, cast asunder!

 

Lying in a den in Didsbury

 

with a straw hat and nowt much to say

 

I said to the man are you trying to bore me

 

because I come from the land of Neil Kinnock

and he said

 

Do you come from the land of Vimto

 

where women groan and men meander

 

Can't you hear, can't you hear my blender

 

full of, full of fruits, cast asunder.

 

 

 



To celebrate 35,000 page views on my lil ol blog!

 

Prolific Blogger

I am a prolific Blogger who only needs another 80 page views to reach the landmark of 35,000 Page Views.
35,000 Page views from America, Russia and a few from Britain. Shark Fishing in Wales is read around the world. I am the greatest! Oops sorry I slipped into Muhammad Ali mode then. The little boutique blog started in January 2012 after reading Richard Brautigan's 'Trout Fishing in America'. That's where I got the title from. I am very excited by my little blog. It is my view on things. I like my view on things. It hasn't got me very far in life but hey, there's a downside to everything. I could carry on like this ad infinitum and I probably will.

It was mostly prose but I've branched out into comic verse, loosely entitled poetry. There is a poetry to most things in life, sex, death and sport to name but three. Poetry is the flow! Poetry is the River! And only the Rivers run free.

Beer, Fags & Indigestion

 

I've got me,

 

need to get me,

 

some

 

Beer

 

 Fags

 

& Indigestion

 

Forget your 5 a day my friend

This little recipe will always send

a message down the U bend.

 

Brought to you by the Grangetown Temperance Movement

 



A life without social media?

Imagine your life without social media. I can't. It is insidious. It is an addiction. It is a weapon of mass distraction. It fills the void left by day to day existence. I can't remember what I did before social media...oh yes I can. Television! I haven't had one of those since 2005 but the bombing, murder and carnage seeps in through the BBC News website.

 

 

"May you live in interesting times"  which is a metaphor for complete and utter chaos. Well we are living through a period like this now. 

 

 

 http://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/dinas-studios.html

 

I link to a previous blog post here, purely because I can. I was very upset by the blowing up of the Pan Am jet over Lockerbie in 1988, perhaps because I was only 22, perhaps it was because I was still raw, my nerves were frayed from self employment and I was just beginning to realise what a bastard the world was. I am ashamed to say that this latest atrocity over the Ukraine, the destruction of Malaysian Airlines MH17 left me cold. I posted nothing on social media about it. I am asking myself why. Is it because I am now a seasoned and cynical observer of World Events at 48. 26 years have elapsed and enough has happened in my own life to make me close down in response to world events. I used to tap in to the 'Collective Unconscious' because I had no other choice. I felt world events to the marrow of my bones. I don't any more because I don't allow the images into my home. I am posting plenty about the bombing of Gaza on Facebook now because it is finally getting to me. It is relentless! It is triggering my 'Anti-British State'. We (The Brits) gave them (The Jews) the wherewithal to return to their Holy Land but we hadn't figured on the collective trauma of the holocaust on their people. They are now performing genocide on the people of Palestine and we sit in our comfy homes and shop in our comfy shops and indulge our comfy families and carry on in our own comfy way because we are comfy with a big fat C. Life goes on? No life should stop out of respect for the dead and dying. We shouldn't be allowed to carry on while another part is performing wanton destruction on another. Whether it was an accident, whether it was Russian separatists, whether it was a Ukrainian conspiracy squad, whether it was Putin himself who pulled the trigger on the surface to air missile we shall never know but Britain (Pre-Referendum) and a weakened Europe because of it and an America surrounded by water better not get into antagonist mode because Russia does not care. What the hell were Malaysia Airlines doing flying over a war zone? It would have cost an extra £10,000 to go another, safer way!. Why are planes still flying to Israel? Why are we not boycotting Israeli goods? Why is the Commonwealth games happening as if none of this is happening? Life goes on. Please excuse me as I return to social media!

Llythyr ir Golygydd/Letter to the Editor

Syr/Sir
In response to Danny ap Nicholas's llythyr/letter of the 22/07/14 I thought I would reply in Wenglish so that we could all understand it. He wrote in English you see and that is not the indigenous language of Cymru/Wales. As a resident of Trelai/Ely in Caerdydd/Cardiff I wonder if Mr Nicholas sings the Welsh National Anthem/Yr Anthem Cenedlaethol Cymraeg at Match Days in the Prifddinas/Capital of Wales or is he like Max Boyce's family like a 'whole row of goldfish' mouthing the words. The Welsh Language is a Treasure/Trysor not a rhwystr/impediment. I didn't even know what that was in Welsh and had to look it up. There isn't even a Welsh Translation for the Western Mail and you yourself are the Papur Cenedlaethol Cymru! Every day there is a letter about the Welsh language, it is somewhat of a Taten Poeth/Hot Potato. Yesterday/Ddoe you decided  to promote Mr Nicholas letter to Rhif 1/No 1 which I think is really testament to the Western Mail's/No Welsh Translation available editorial policy! You have a 'Welsh Watch' in your supplement on Saturday as if it was some endangered species and indeed it will be if you continue to promote anti-welsh language sentiment through your letters page. Would it not be better to call a cadoediad/ceasefire and allow the language which was here before the Western Mail and Danny Nicholas of Ely. To quote the late Parchedig/Reverend Glyn James of Ferndale/Glynrhedyn, y Rhondda Fach/Little Rhondda. "Welsh was spoken across the continent of Europe whilst English was not even a scream in the forests of Germany". As the National Newspaper of Wales you have a duty to redress the balance in today's Cymru/Wales. I look forward to seeing my letter at Rhif 1/No 1 in tomorrow's Western Mail/ Post Gorllewinol?

Yn Gywir

The Shark Fisherman of Wales
Deepest/Darkest Grangetown

Gwas bach ffyddlon

Dwi'n gwas bach ffyddlon i'm ffrindiau a fy nheulu

 

Rhoi pawb a phopeth o flaen fi fy hun

Ac wedyn mae'r teimladau o ddicter yn dechrau

Dwi'n siŵr fod bobol yn dewis anghofio fy mod yn ddioddef o anhwylder dau begwn.

Iawn i chi tretio fi yn 'normal' i raddau ond mae'n rhaid i chwi cofio pam es i'n sâl yn y lle gyntaf

Oherwydd mi wnes i gyfaddawdu i fod yn aelod o'r gymdeithas yma.

Mae rhaid cystadlu ond rwyf yn gwrthod.

Peidiwch plîs disgwyl i mi gwneud yr un peth a phobol eraill oherwydd dwi ddim fel pobol eraill.

Dwi'n tristau i fer fy esgyrn.

Cilio rhag y byd ar fetws fydd y dyfodol i mi.

Dwi ddim eisiau fod fel pawb arall oherwydd dych chi ddim y fersiwn gorau a gwreiddiol ohonoch chi’ch hun.

Rydych wedi gwerthu allan i lwyddo.

nationalist with a small n

 

I am a nationalist with a small n. I must be, otherwise, this blog would be entitled Shark Fishing in the UK. I identify as Welsh and not British. I acknowledge the individual countries that make up the British Isles and respect them as autonomous powers. The World Cup has just finished and if that wasn't a celebration of nationalism I don't know what was. Every game preceded by a nation-al anthem. Very often these are rousing renditions. A nation is a land mass identified by a flag and a language. They are part of bigger continents. Historically we have seen wars due to national pride and aggression. nations have invaded nations because their sense of national pride has got out of control. Unfortunately there are conservatives with a small c in the ranks of Welsh nationalists and this is a major reason why I am no longer a member of the Welsh National Party, Plaid Cymru. That combined with the fact that they have two members in the British House of Lords, the unelected second chamber. For a nationalist party to condone the unjustified status quo in this way is beyond my comprehension. As regular readers will be aware my biggest concern is the Welsh Language, everything else can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. I would sacrifice, the Rugby, the Football, Male Voice Choirs, Lava Bread etc etc if the Language can be saved and for it to revive. It's not looking good and it won't be helped by nationalists with a small n continuing to write their blogs in the English language. The nation of Islam is on fire, the nation of Israel is terrorising the nation of Palestine. In this respect it would probably be better if there were no nations. nations allow individual people to ascribe meaning to themselves through the nation state. The bigger the nation the easier it is to get lost in its history and rhetoric. I wish I wasn't a nationalist with a small n. I don't take pride in shit I haven't done because I don't think Wales has done anything and I only hate people I haven't met because I am a misanthrope, nothing to do with their nationality. I hate some Welsh people a lot more than I hate nationalists of other countries.      



Dai Mutant

Dai Mutant's Monologue

"Sut Mae?" right that's it, that's all the Welsh I know I'm afraid.

What's wrinkly, goes in and out and stinks of piss?

Old age Pensioners doing the hokey cokey.

My name is Dai Mutant and I come visiting you from Planet Penygraig.

That's just to the left of Venus and to the South of Mars like.

I was well annoyed last week, I was sitting on my rock having a caws Caerffili sangwitch (we always pronounce the g in sangwitch)

and this bloody Voyager space craft lands right on my Halford's picnic rug.

Next thing I know two air balloons inflate and a machine on wheels comes out.

Stupid things can't get over the terrain so I puncture it with my fag and its off like Hi Ho Tonto Away!  

They are not pictures of Mars they are sending back,

that's the Rhondda that is!

Where it landed was Doris Evans's back yard.

And that face they have meant to have found?

That's all the young tearaway aliens doing donuts on Rhigos mountain.

And that pyramid they are all on about, that's the Happy Shopper in Pandy.

NASA my arse. They told everybody it had gone to Mars.

Tell me then why did the first live broadcast show a Rhondda Cynon Taf Tipper Lorry going past?

My cousin Mad Dan was driving it!

I realised I was a mutant in work like when somebody told me "I wasn't all there".

Work, well that's what they called it!

Every time I was bullied at school I zapped em with my ray gun fingers and the bullies would burst into flames on the playground.

Their mothers were not happy.

They've promised to have me on Wales Today for an interview but I heard nothing back.

Smart piece that Lucy Cohen mind!

My father's name was Ectac, he was from Pluto originally and Mam's maiden name was Ivy Jones from Ynysybwl.

They met in the Car Park when Dad's pod come down in a storm.

She took him home for a cup of tea and the rest as they say is history.

I was a messy baby by all accounts.

Kryptonite and Corn Flakes for breakfast.

They should make me leader of the Welsh Assembly instead of that Carwyn Jones.

 He's Neptune originally, by Bryncethin there.

Hopeless leaders they make.

I'd shake em up a bit aye!

I'd force everybody to speak Welsh.

See people are lazy by nature and design.

If you came to my planet, you'd have to speak Plutonese.   

They are having a job down the job centre finding me a job.

Too many digits on my hands or 'over qualified' to use their terminology.  

Well this won't buy the baby a new bonnet!

I better go and pretend I'm looking for work spose!

Well it's been nice talking at you!

Nanw Nanw Shazbatt and all that!



The Arrogance of Golfers

The Arrogance of Golfers

You stand there, squeaking on the green, in new shoes.
Canary Yellow, Flamingo Pink, not just blue but bastard BLUE jumpers.
Your glove caressing your backside in the way your wife doesn't.
Sneering middle management in a Valleys golf club!
You really do think that you're something,
the way you swipe that ball off the ground
with your hand.
I'm sorry if I coughed.
Did I put you off?
How are you getting on?
What's it say on your scorecard?
You've done well since we started off in the Steelworks together.
Sorry if my dog got your ball and that!
Well it is right of way for walkers.
You expect me to stop for you as you tee off?
You can fuck right off Delme...to Malaga and back!
Four!!!

Two Forms

I sent two forms off this morning, one to the IVF clinic at the University of Wales Hospital, Heath, Cardiff, consenting to them to allow my sperm to perish and the other one to Cardiff City Council (Council Tax Division) confirming that I was the only occupant at my residency. I won't give you any more information, I'll let you join up the dots.
So unless I meet someone sharpish that I can impregnate it is unlikely now that I will become a father which is a shame (I think so anyway) because I have been told by a few women that I would make a good Dad. Even if a miracle was to happen and a 'hottie' was to show up that I could make pregnant I don't think it would be fair on the child because 1) I have Bi-Polar Disorder and they might inherit it which would be a fate worse than death for the kid so best to remain unborn and 2) I will be pushing into old age when the child becomes a man or woman. Elderly parents have their place but to leave your children bereft too young is not a good idea.
3) Any man who refers to women or potential mothers as 'hotties' doesn't deserve to be a father/husband.
 It appears that on a lot of forms for the NHS, for the DWP, ATOS etc etc that one of the first questions they ask you is about your relationship status presuming that you have a partner and child. Now I feel that it is a strange presumption to make, similar to guilty unless proven innocent. Our society is obsessed with coupling and mortgages and procreation to the detriment of single people. Single people deserve awards, they deserve single person benefits rather than having to pay Single person supplements when they go on holiday. "Oh you want a single room do you, that'll be 25pound extra". 25 pound for staying single? Single people are doing the world a favour by not joining in the chaos and mayhem. Procreating couples and families will shift the earth off its axis if they carry on at this rate. It appears that you can be financially better off in all sorts of ways if these forms are to be believed. I just hope future generations will appreciate my sacrifice and thank me for not bringing another little shark fisherperson into this mess and no I am not interested in being a Step Dad.   

   

Cardiff's Mediterranean Quarter

 

piss poor palm plant on

a

pallet

sucking tepid tea

@

the exotic

'Hayes Island Snack Bar'

fag butt Freddie

Willy wino

terrifies tourists who

wonder

whether

this

is

it.

This is it.

cold

hard

piss stained concrete

hostile architecture

St David

would not recognise his hall.

 

 



The Incredible Shrinking Man

Bob tro dwi'n dychwelyd i Gaerdydd ar ôl treulio amser yn gwahanol rannau o Gymru dwi'n teimlo fel 'The Incredible Shrinking Man'. Mae e'n dechrau'r eiliad dwi di ddod i ffwrdd o drofa'r M4, Cardiff West a dwi'n mynd lawr yr A4232, mae teimlad o anesmwytho yn dod drosta’i. Mae rhaid i mi fod yn was bach y Brifddinas eto, dyn tawel sydd yn troi ei gefn ar y gymdeithas ddinesig byddent nhw’n Gymru nei beidio. Mae'r ymarferiad yr un peth bob tro, parcio'r car mor agos i’n tŷ sydd yn bosib ac wedyn adael o yna tan y tro nesaf mae rhaid i mi ffoi i'r Gorllewin neu'r Gogledd oherwydd yn eiriau Kenny Rogers fi ydy 'The Coward of the County' neu 'Incredible Shrinking Man'. Dwi'n nerfus iawn dreifio o gwmpas y ddinas ac fel person mewn oedran dwi'n cynllunio bob taith, faint o gloch fydd cyn lleied o draffig o bobol ar hyd y lle i mi gael y siawns gorau posib o daith di ffwdan. Mae rhywbeth mawr yn crynhoi yn fy nghorff os fydd rhaid i mi stopio mewn jam traffic neu oherwydd bod 'na gymaint ar hewl. Felli yn y ddinas fawr hyll yma ble rwyf wedi bod yng ngwystlon am bum mlynedd ar hugain dwi'n cerdded i bob man neu dwi'n seiclo. Anaml fyddai yn dal y bws, gormod o bobol. Dwi'n sylweddoli fy mod i yn hoffi sefyllfaoedd a phobol mi allai rheoli! Mae hwnna yn swnio yn rhyfedd ond os dwi'n teimlo fod person yn mynd i grynhoi mi neu fy mygwth yn emosiynol, dwi'n osgoi nhw, dyna pam fod gweithio mewn meysydd confensiynol yn gymaint o her. Mi fydd na digwyddiadau a phobol ni allet ti reoli.
Dwi'n ceisio cadw proffil isel yn y stryd, peidio mynd allan os fydd na lot o bobol neu gymdogion yn mynd a dod. Dwi'n osgoi'r amseroedd brysura'r dydd. Ofn, rhwystredigaeth, arferiad, y zone 'cyfforddus'. Mae rhaid newid lleoliad ond i ble a pham! Mi wnes i symid i Lundain yn 2000 i ddechrau bywyd newydd, well dyna oedd y gobaith ond yr un hen fywyd oedd o, yr un hen feddylfryd ond mewn lleoliad wahanol. Maent yn deud galla’u chi ddim dysgu triciau newydd i hen gi ond yn fy achos i ddwi'n gobeithio nad ydy hwnna yn wir.

One Summer

Letter to Breshnev

Did a Welshman discover America?

http://www.bbc.co.uk/guides/z2q22hv

 

 

 

The Darkness of Davies

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-politics-28132774

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept.

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,

And Brutus is an honorable man.

Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Act 3 Scene 2

It's called Karma or 'kick a man when he's down' and that's exactly what Alun Davies did to me in 1994. At the time he was a member of Plaid Cymru's National Executive. He lived in a flat near the Coops public house in Aberystwyth. I was a common and garden member of the Federation of Plaid Cymru Students and very often we would congregate in the confused seaside town for conferences and piss ups. After one particular conference/piss up a gang of us all ended up back at Davies's flat. It was late and we were noisy. His neighbours from downstairs came out and asked us to be quiet and allegedly I told them where to go. Inside his flat we all took up our pissed positions and I knelt behind the sofa looking at the television feeling comfortably numb. He, allegedly, having spoken with his neighbours, came raging up the stairs and he ran and took a flying kick at me, landing his boot in my ribs. He screamed and I shouted back. I didn't hit him but walked passed him and out. My ego had been bruised.
Twenty years ago now and he is no longer 'Plaid Cymru' but has taken the ambitious Politician's route and is now the tenuous member for the environment as a Labour Minister within the Grey Lady's (Carwyn Jones) administration at the Welsh Assembly Building also known affectionately as the Senedd. I thought  I would publish this now to call into question his temperament as a human being first and foremost let alone as a Minister. 
It is time for the Overlord of Darkness to resign.  He could always get a job as one of the adversaries of  Dr Who.

Stop Press

8th July 2014

Coch Bach y Bala

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/cymru/gogleddorllewin/hanes/pages/cochbach.shtml

 

 

 

 

 

 

After my absurd and ridiculous idea about a Welsh Army, I called in to see a former prisoner and inmate of the school that I had attended. He still lives in the town that incarcerated us within its education system. The picture above is not of the school but the former prison where the Welsh Folk Hero 'Coch Bach y Bala' escaped from in 1913. I had just finished reading a book about him and on my journey South, called by the graveyard where he is buried. He escaped from the above prison when he was 60 years of age. This was not his first escape but his third having spent most of his adult life in prison.  His nickname was the Welsh Houdini. I had not visited the graveyard before but had heard of the village so turned off on my route. I like to do these 'spur of the moment' things, mini adventures with a spiritual meaning. Coch Bach has become a hero to me because we have both spent time behind prison walls and he was like a Welsh Don Quixote, forever charging at windmills. It appears from reading his history that it was 'Give a dog a bad name' and that if there had been a robbery or burglary in the area then 'John Jones' was the first suspect that the police apprehended. The sentences were stiff in those days and he spent two seven year stretches in Dartmoor. Crimes against peoples' possessions were considered at the top of the heinous list. So all property is theft eh?  His previous was always taken into account. When the Judge announced the sentence he would rant and rail against the police and the authorities but once in prison would behave like a model prisoner and would be let out on licence (which was unusual) It appears that either he could not or would not stop goading the authorities and after his last escape in 1913, he was a free but feral man for six days. The son of a local (unpopular) landowner, Reginald Jones Bateman caught up with him on the Nantclwyd estate and shot him in the leg. The shock and loss of blood was too much for the 60 year old. John Jones is a folk hero to the Welsh 'Werin Datws' who have fought a war of insolence against the British Establishment for centuries.    

It was the only gravestone in Llanelidan churchyard that had flowers on it. 



Welsh Army

Readers of this 'Boutique Blog' can decide for themselves whether this particular post is a spoof or whether the Shark Fisherman of Wales does seriously believe in what he propounds here.

Yesterday as I travelled from Manchester into North Wales I couldn't tell where England stopped and Wales began. I missed the sign that told me and other pilgrims, that we were moving at speed from one country to another. I did notice a Welsh Dragon on a bridge and presumed that this was the border. It appears to be one land mass, Deeside fuses into Merseyside.  I had an idea, an idea that had its formation in my own life experience. I passed my old school yesterday. I looked over at the building and institution which oppressed me as a teenager. It was here every Wednesday afternoon that we would march up and down as members of the CCF. The Clwyd Cadet Force. We were required to bull our boots and have our Green uniform in impeccable order. Sometimes we would go on manoeuvers to Kinmel Camp near Bodelwyddan or to Sealand Ranges to fire guns, Lee Enfield 202s and SLR Machine Guns. I fired both these weapons as a 15 year old. I don't look back fondly on these experiences and as an adult I am very anti-military perhaps because of these experiences. I am anti-the British Army but in this post I will propound the argument for a 'Welsh Army'. If Scotland votes Yes on September 18th it will have a Scottish Army. In Wales, Independence is a far off, unrealistic, romantic dream but if a Welsh Army was created, then this utopia might become a reality. There are many thousands of 16-19 year olds out of work. Recruit them into the 'Welsh Army' for 3 years National Service. Now this would be a Welsh Army as opposed to a Regiment of the British Army. So it would be a Homeland Army and it would not get sucked into the Wars of Westminster. The sons and daughters of the geographical area known as Wales would not get involved in Iraq, Afghanistan or the Falklands. Their primary duty would be to March up and down similar to the French Foreign Legion above, singing songs in Welsh rather than French. We would then have a critical mass of young people who at least could sing in Welsh. Apparently you can brainwash people between the ages of 16 and 19, they will accept orders and if the orders are barked in Welsh rather than English there might be a chance that they will take the mantle and the social ownership and responsibility of the language once their period of National Service is over. Another major responsibility would be to attend the sentry boxes which will be sited on every single entry road into Wales. Travellers and tourists into Wales will be required to show their Passports. This act alone will remind people that they are travelling into an ancient and different culture to their own and they might have a little bit more respect for the areas that they drop their litter in, both literal and metaphorical. English is the language of the towns and cities in Wales. It is the language of commerce and capitalism, Welsh survives in the rural and country areas protected by hill, forest and woodland. If a critical mass of young people have been alienated by the language in school by not seeing the point in it, then 3 years of National Service where the language of Military Service will be Welsh, might just ease them into a different mind-set when they come to leave the 'Welsh Army' and enter the world of unemployment and badly paid work.