"Croeso i ddyfnderoedd fy isymwybod: Welcome to the depths of my subconscious. Shark Fishing in Wales is one man's odyssey to understand the land of his birth through anecdote, observation and reminiscence! By learning about his country, perhaps he can learn more about himself. A process of individuation which Carl Jung suggests we should all go through. Less assuming one nationhood and more working towards one nationhood before we become Independent." Daf Williams
Cymru/Wales: Bipolar Nation
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My second spoken word event in 4 days. I am turning from an anti-social moth into a social butterfly all in the name of 'Spoken W...
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So what are we going to do about Exams and the Education system? Yes you! You and me, what are we going to do to change the Education ...
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http://www.stevieriks.net/ Conclusive evidence this morning on Page 7 of the National Newspaper of the West of England that Wales is ...
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As a Ffrinj Nutter who had a dalliance with the Welsh Nationalist Party/ Plaid Cymru/ The Party of Wales many, many years ago I was p...
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I am an endomorph of the Ronnie Barker variety from the Class sketch above. At the moment I weigh in at 15 stone and at 5 foot seven and a h...
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I shouldn't really go there but the Shark Fisherman of Wales tends to go to places that others fear to tread. Anti-Semitism is the new P...
Monday 27 April 2015
Phoneaphobic
Monday 20 April 2015
Mad Dogs & Englishmen
Dear Diary
Dear Diary
I have never been as popular as I am at the moment with 411 friends on Facebook and 1,453 Followers on Twitter. I am the CEO and Founding Father of 'Cathod dros y Gymraeg' 'Cats for the Welsh Language' https://twitter.com/CathodDYG https://www.facebook.com/groups/369525293256069/370762879798977/?notif_t=group_activity which I hope to monetise and turn into a global brand a la Richard Branson sometime soon.
I am confiding in you this morning, my trusty blog, on yet another Monday in Limbo Land, in case things really take off. We're all just waiting for another beastly government to take power and then we can jolly well get on and enjoy the coming summer which promises to be a corker with lashings of ginger beer and cream cakes. I jolly well hope that those Islamic Fundamentalists don't upset us and Vladimir Putin behaves himself. I've decided to cancel the Mediterranean cruse this year in sympathy with, well I'm sorry but there are just some things you can't joke about. The world is in a perilous place but Uncle Quentin and Aunt Fanny have pulled out the bunting from the dusty wardrobe upstairs where they also found a lion and a witch, huzzah, what fun! V.E Day! Victory in Europe, well we might as well, it's the last bloody victory we'll ever see.
This Diary entry taken from the forthcoming book 'Diary of an unemployed, unmarried, mentally ill, middle aged man' by David Williams. Order your copy now for three shillings and sixpence from 'Upshitcreekwithoutapaddle' Publications of Upper Cwm Twrch. (not far from Glanaman)
Friday 17 April 2015
Jobs Miracle
Well it's official, it's one day short of 3 weeks to go before the General Election and I don't give a Flying F**k who wins any more. I wonder if I ever did. Like many, my default setting is anti-Tory because of their oppressive, suffocating tenure! It's Ground hog day here in West Wales. We've been here before. The only thing I could think when catching snatches of the 'challengers debate' while walking through the living room was how magnificent the Methodist Hall looked. It's going to be difficult to avoid until the day but the result on May 8th is going to be like an electoral ejaculation. An anti-climax. Who will be smoking the post coital cigarettes? (or cigars). The Tories are claiming today that there is a Jobs miracle. I haven't got one. I've applied for one, a part time one. I'm not sure if I want one. If I get it, I anticipate bursting into tears on my first day back because I equate work with imprisonment, suffocation, gasping for air. The first job I had after leaving college in Watford in 1985 with an OND in Printing Administration under my arm was selling print for a Polish Printer in Cefn Mawr near Wrexham. I had a dark blue Morris Minor and after 2 days walking around Llangollen in a dark blue suit, getting 1 order, I had a nervous breakdown and ended up in the Llandudno Medical Centre in North Wales under the expert care of Dr Dafydd Alun Jones. To be fair to the Printer, he sent the commission which was about £2.50 sellotaped to a piece of card. It is only by writing this now that I realise that I have an emotional link to work, a link of failure. Every kind of work I have done since then has either ended in failure or with me having another nervous breakdown. I have paid my taxes and you will be relieved to know that I am not claiming yours in benefit. The last time I checked I was on something called Working Tax Credits of £53.00 a week. Yes I know, it's still public funds propping up the malingerers but don't blame me for the system. I have been moved and manipulated through the tenure of this Tory Government off the books, as have many others, in a far worse state than me. They can then claim that it's a miracle. A Jobs miracle. Look at these desperate 'self employed' people who haven't got a 'f*ck*ng clue' what they are doing. There are no new jobs. There are no jobs. There are activities on zero hours contracts which will pull your soul from within your carcass and put it through a mincer to make a beefburger. "Would you like Fries with that?" There are jobs that will require me to drive around the cities, towns and counties of this overpopulated, traffic choked land, blood boiling in a pressure cooker body with intrusive thoughts shadowing my every move.
It's Friday. You're home from work. Don't let me spoil it for you. You have a weekend in which to gasp for air.
Tuesday 14 April 2015
Poisoned Pen Letters
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Spot_%28Treasure_Island%29
Monday 13 April 2015
News from the Cambrian News
Saturday 11 April 2015
Friday 10 April 2015
Tipp-ex gun toting 'Final Solution' crackpots
Tis why I no longer believe in Party Politics. Ceredigion is turning into a farce. Who said what, to whom and when? The Cambrian News affectionately called the 'Cambrian Snooze' have seen fit to rubbish one of the candidates for the constituency on its front page. I'm not going into the details because I can't be bothered. I'm nearly falling asleep writing this. One of the other candidates launched into a tirade on the former but it turns out that he's got a dark and shady past as well. So it looks as if you are going to enter Politics for a Party, along with a fired up ego, you need a squeaky clean past. You are not going to have a squeaky clean past if you want to enter the political realm in the first place. You are somebody, entranced by the dark corners and have found a place where you can mouth off to your hearts content until a keen little researcher from another tribe chances across something you said when you were 3 years of age and had just finished soiling your nappy. The campaign here has now been ruined by some 'home truths'. Things that the 'Welshies' feel, but are not able to say. The Lib Dem candidate, the incumbent sitting MP must be smirking across his bum cheeks today because even though he doesn't speak Welsh, he is the Westminster Elected representative of a constituency which 'er gwaethaf phawb a phopeth' (despite everyone and everything) still has a sizeable proportion of Welsh Speakers. Two of the candidates who do speak Welsh have handed victory to the Lib Dems and handed over some votes to UKIP in the process. As I may have mentioned before I was up here in 1992 canvassing for the Plaid Cymru/Green candidate (Coalition) Cynog Dafis where he overturned a sizeable majority held by the Liberals Geraint Howells at the time. When my Aunty found out, she was not best pleased to say the least as they had a Liberal tradition in the family for years. I was an outsider, coming to Ceredigion to try and foist a different party and 'way of life' upon them. It is different outsiders that have been the topic of conversation in this General Election campaign. Things that the candidates wrote, one for a magazine and one on a message board to do with football. In this election and in this constituency, the old biblical adage from Numbers 32:33 has never been more apposite
Monday 6 April 2015
If I live to be 100!
The fact is, the poet does not want admiration, he wants to be believed.
— Jean Cocteau Quotes (@CocteauQuotes) September 21, 2020
Fruity old fruit bats
Hello my fruity old fruit bats! That is a term of endearment by the way. I thought I would treat you to a piece of prose rather than the b...
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Bottom of the Ottoman
Bottom of the Ottoman from David Williams on Vimeo.
Crying in your Beer from David Williams on Vimeo.
Hitler navigates the A487 from Aberaeron to Aberystwyth
I shall never wear tweeds from David Williams on Vimeo.