Happiness

http://www.stevieriks.net/

Conclusive evidence this morning on Page 7 of the National Newspaper of the West of England that Wales is not a nation. <Drum Roll> Boom Tish.

May I at this juncture Mr Chairmen/Person offer a theory as to why people in Wales are unhappy or not as happy as they should be. It is because our national comic refuses to see us as a Nation. If we were a NATION with full NATION status then we might be able to walk around Merthyr and Torfaen with our heads and our shopping held high. Instead we are that insignificant little Principality the size of...well the size of Wales. The Western Mail which for over a century has sent our boys and girls packing to foreign wars that have nothing to do with us but everything to to with Westminster and Elizabeth Regina. They have waved them goodbye at the Train Stations of the Principality and have listed the names of the fallen which lie in stone and marble and then get dusted by the Prince of Wales feathers every few years.  

The Western Mail sees the Nation as the United King Dong, Team Great Balls of Fire. So the miserable Welsh have dropped 4% and the happy English have risen 16% in their happiness levels according to the Fail. Is this because they have led us to the promised land of Brexit? Who Knows? You would think that Merthyr and Torfaen would be the happiest places having voted in such numbers for UKIP, those mirth makers, those happy hand standers of sovereignty and ethnic tolerance but no, lack of jobs and opportunities are making people unhappy. Perhaps the people of Merthyr and Torfaen should get on their bikes as they did in the last century and move en masse to Slough and Cowley and just let the immigrants move in. 

Spoken Word Anaesthetic

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 Word'. I have become a spoken word junkie and I needed a fix of something before I navigated the A487 so I put King Pleasure and the Biscuit Boys (which I had purchased for a Queen's quid in Aberystwyth library just the day previously) into tut player thingy and became like John Candy in Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

From reading 'Crying in your Beer' at Aberystwyth Arts Centre Spoken Word event Words, Words, Words on Wednesday night, I chanced the most dangerous road in the world last night and attended Spoken Word Saturday at the Small World Theatre in Aberteifi in support of 100Thousand Poets for Change.

I was up second and using the state of the art microphone boomed "This is the BBC" and read 2 Environmental Poems, one being Porpoise Pink Potel and finished off with British Values Blues. The Small World Theatre in Cardigan is a gem of a place and a superb venue for Spoken Word. Thank you to Eleanor Shaw for organising and for the opportunity of feeding the addiction.

Nailing my colours to the mast!



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nailing_the_colours

Well the Shark Fisherman do ave gone and done it now! He has nailed his colours to the mast. Last Saturday despite there being only one man and his dog(Artistic Licence) at the Independence for Wales rally in the Hayes, Cardiff, there was something in the air, a whiff of freedom, the smell of Independence. Of course that might have been the chips from Caroline Street but I sense a shifting, if not in other people, then definitely within myself. As Carl Gustav Jung said "To find a way back to source is a perennial human need "and the beginning of my river like the Glaslyn or the Wye lies up in them thar hills.  I am writing as my cartoon character alter ego with sunglasses in case somebody claims to know me on one of these rallies. We live as we dream, alone, and it is better if the guerrilla warfare against the British State is undertaken by individuals who unlike flags but more similar to jelly cannot be nailed to the mast. Individuals with a bit of history like me, can be held up to public scrutiny and ridiculed therefore it is better to stay semi anonymous and fully autonomous until the end goal has been reached. I have no ego left (unless it has to do with reading out my shit poetry) so I have no need to be the leader of anything but in the same vein I will not follow, well meaning, disorganised fools who cannot organise a sound system worthy of the guests invited to speak. Rallies, marches and speeches are all very well but until the core message has been wrapped and parcelled in a palatable format and tied up in a shiny ribbon, then it is only the usual suspects that will be on the march. Scotland and Catalonia have shown and are showing the models of good practice. The weight of History is against us but also with us. If enough people wake up to a consciousness that does not and will not allow a class riven, monarchist state to fob us off with the usual GB/UK clap trap then a journey up river to the source might be undertaken but at the moment we are still on the beach, in the rock pools, in short trousers with our illuminous fishing nets from Poundland.

   

End of the Pier Show Part Deux

End of the Pier Show

Part Deux

http://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.co.uk/2014/08/roll-up-roll-up.html

Aberystwyth 'Royal' Pier has been sold to a Pension Fund

so that Post Brexit more Old Fuckers will be able to chuck 

a few more pennies in to Come Piss in My Pension Pot

Croeso/Welcome to the End of the Pier Show

There is Carwyn the Clown with red nose and unicycle

going up and down, up and down and getting nowhere.

In the Boxing booth, 
Hamilton & Gill are squaring up in purple shorts with golden trim.

Christine in Neil's corner and Diane in Nathan's

and standing open mouthed, gawking like Scouse Seagulls 

are wait for it, wait for it, roll up roll up

The Great British Pubic

Come one, Come all to the linguistic free for all 

aka Visit Wales.com

oherwydd : because does yr un man yn debyg i Gartref 

The pubes are witness to the death of a great nation

the ghost of Owain Glyndwr charges up and down the front on a seaside donkey.

Even though it is only September, the Christmas Whale has taken up residence 

and is threatening to become Yr Eliffant yn yr Ystafell

"There's blydi sharks everywhere" 

sings Vincent from the Bandstand

as the latest News from the Cambrian News

falls into the Gutter

The end of the pier show is here all year every year

until the end of time gentlemen please

let's have your glasses.  

Llyfr Unnos

Mi ddechreuais y llyfr yma am 6.00pm neithiwr ag mi orffennais am 2.00 o gloch y bore gyda saib am de a photian ar y wefan gymdeithasol yna #twitter sydd yn chwarae rhan allweddol ac yn negyddol yn stori’r awdur Mike Parker. Fel hanner Cardi, oedd yn y cyffiniau pan chwythodd pethau fyni yn y sir dwi di aros sbel tan i'r llyfr ddod yn rhydd yn un o lyfrgelloedd dan fygythiad ein cenedl. Ddim ar gael yn Sir Ceredigion felli dyma fi'n fenthyg e o Gaerdydd gan fawr syndod fod e ar gael o'r diwedd. Dwi'n hoff o fformat dyddiadur ers i mi ddarllen 'Diary of a Season' gan Lawrie McMenemy nol yn yr wythdegau cynnar pan oedd yntau yn rheolwr o Southampton. Dipyn o outsider oedd Lawrie yn hanu o'r Gogledd Ddwyrain Lloegr a gyda diffyg profiad ar bêl droed fel chwaraewr yn yr adrannau uwch ond llwyddo gwnaeth o ac o’r ôl darllen llyfr Mike Parker dwi'n argyhoeddedig fydd Mike yn llwyddo hefyd ac yn y byd gwleidyddiaeth. Ond am dymor cythryblus gafodd yr awdur. Ffraeth, agored a doniol oedd agwedd Mike Parker, rhywbeth anarferol i ddarpar wleidydd. Mae beth mae rhywun ddim yn deud weithiau yn bwysicach na beth maent yn deud a theimlad oedd gen i fod 'y Blaid: The Party' wedi setio'r hen Mike fyny am gwymp. Roedd ganddo fo amheuon ei hun cyn sefyll ond gafodd ei chysuro a sicrhau basa popeth yn iawn. Ond doedd popeth ddim yn iawn. Hwyl a sbri ag egni mawr yw dechrau'r llyfr ac mae Mike yn llwyddo sgubo'r darllenwr i fyny yn y miri. Diddorol iawn oedd cael clywed am yr enwau yma oedd berson ddim ond wedi gweld ar daflenni cyn hyn. Roedd yr etholiad yn sicr yn un i'r Blaid ennill ac nid i'r Blaid Ryddfrydol golli oherwydd bod Mark Williams yn cael ei ystyried yn 'safe pair of hands' ac yn y Cambrian News bondigrybwyll mi roedd ei lun o wedi bod yn selog ar hyd ei gyfnod fel aelod seneddol hyd yn oed os oedd o yn bresennol mewn agoriad envelop. Dwi'n cymryd dau beth o'r llyfr, pa mor galed wnaeth yr awdur weithio dros yr achos ag pa mor ystyfnig â chroes ei gilydd oedd etholwyr y Sir. Y Gymraeg a'r ddi Gymraeg. Dyma oedd yr etholiad ble oedd milwyr milain Farage yn ei anterth dros y wlad ag y teimlad oedd bod bobol yn symud tuag at y dde yn wleidyddol. Yng ngeiriau Max Boyce allaf ddeud 'I was there' pan gipiodd Cynog y set nol yn 1992 ond ers i Cynog rhoi'r gorau iddi fel aelod seneddol, cael ei cham rheoli gan y Blaid fel sedd enilladwy ag y swyddfa yn Heol y Wig fel esiampl o hynny. O beth mae'n swnio dydy o ddim wedi newid fawr ddim ers y dyddiau hynny! Roeddwn yn edrych ymlaen am glywed mwy o hanes 'Yr Arglwydd Hell' Dafydd El ond fawr oedd son amdano fo fel draenen yn ystlys yr arweinyddiaeth. Fy nghyngor i ar oll darllen y llyfr ydy peidiwch â bod yn Gardi a phrynwch y llyfr yn lle ei fenthyg e oherwydd mae 'na ryw berl ynddo fo i bawb.  Mi fasa’r dyn yma fel chwa o awyr iach yn y Cynulliad ag ar ôl darllen a mwynhau, sylweddoli "Plaid Cymru owes you one pal" Brawddeg wnaeth sefyll allan i mi oedd "When language-any language-becomes something that's calibrated rather than celebrated, we fillet it of all that makes it sing" Amen i hwnna weda i!   

Beth oedd da'r Pysgotwr Siarcod i weud ar y pryd.

http://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.co.uk/2015/04/tipp-ex-nazis.html

Prime Minister's Snap Time

Peter Kay as a young boy

There do be talk down in that there London that the Houses of Parliament will have to shut and the 'Members' moved to other quarters. The man in charge of these affairs is 'tool' for the Rhondda Consituency 'Chris Bryant'. He was interviewed on BBC Radio 4 recently and stated quite categorically that he was not 'lurking' when chanced upon in one of the darker recesses of Westminster. From 2000-2006, the FA Cup Final was played at Cardiff's Millennium Stadium whilst Wembley was being rebuilt and by all accounts the travelling supporters enjoyed themselves. A conservative estimate says that the refurb of Parliament will take a minimum of seven years so you knows what I am going to suggest next! Yes, that they move bag and baggage down to Wales to hold Prime Minister's Snap Time. The Millennium Stadium has now changed its name so they couldn't hold the slanging match in there so why not hold it closer to Chris Bryant's second home in the Rhondda at Trehafod Mining Museum. Now look yew ere now indeed to goodness, I know that Trehafod is actually in 'normal' Owen Smith's' constituency but what a vote winner for him should he suggest that the lads and lassies come down to Cymru/Wales on a jolly. They could hire a charabanc from Evan Evan's tours which is just around the corner in Victoria.  This would be ideal for Theresa 'Blue Angel' May and the Tories bringing Wales and the Union closer to London. A local choir could be hired at cost price to accompany the cage down into the ground and a fully fit canary handed to Commons Speaker 'John Bercow' as they descend into the bowels of the earth. Those leopard print kitten heels might be a bit dustier than when they entered but talk about getting down and dirty 'wid da people'. After a hard day's debating it will be down to Ponty's open air lido for a bit of a splash about.  

Business Men & Benefit Claimants

Dr Liam Fox speaks to the Nation from David Williams on Vimeo.

It's back to the language of the 'Sissynack' for this one. That lowlife, lowland Scot, Dr Liam Fox has hit upon something. That Business Men & Benefit Claimants are both fat and lazy. The latter however wont be seen on golf courses on a Friday afternoon unless they've got a can of Special Brew in their hands. Now I like Theresa May, I think she's nice, but she has got a clutch of buffoonery in her cabinet, the likes that have not been seen before. Cameron was a cad, a Flashman and we had got used to it because the British Pubic are into a bit of Sado-Masochism. They like the hard bastard in charge (Thatcher) even though they are highly critical of those abroad or those who wish to become Presidents of the United States of America. For some unfathomable reason people over this side of the pond believe they have an inalienable right to pass judgement on who becomes POTUS. 
"Hey Limey, we got our Independence in 1776 from youze purse lipped Puritans, so butt out, capiche?"
Now if we wish to bring down nice Theresa May's Government then Benefit Claimants like myself need to start appearing on Dragon's Den to outline our plans for an overthrow of the system. How outrageous that chubby golfers can be maligned in such a way! How does the Fox know that Dave is not out on the 13th hole making a call to China on his mobile and GPS? We've had 'Benefits Street' so perhaps we could have fat lazy bastards on a golf course street. Of course Liam did not use the word bastard but that's what he was thinking. That's what we all think about someone we perceive to be leading an easier life to ourselves, that they have been born out of wedlock.

Y Pier

Peth anodd oedd peidio tyfu sglodyn ar dy ysgwydd ...... am unrhywbeth, dy daldra, lliw dy ddannedd neu dy ddefnydd o'r iaith Gymraeg. Erbyn dy bumdegau ti'n cerdded o gwmpas dre fel rhyw 'Hunchback' ond gwae a ti ddefnyddio gair mor feirniadol. Ond ble oedd fy mlydi Esmerelda ta? 'Do what you gorra do' oedd mantra Gari a dim lot oedd hynny! Oedd o'n hoffi ei enw! Enw'r chwedegau ar saith degau oedd Gari, o'r Saesneg Gary ond roedd y Cymry wedi rhoi ei stamp unigryw arno fo fel arfer. U bedol neu i ddot oedd cwestiwn ei blentyndod ac roedd o'n ysi am ddefnyddio'r gair newydd yn dechrau gydag Ff roedd o wedi dod ar draws yn llyfrau Leslie Thomas ei arddegau. "U bedol neu i ddot Gari?". "Ffwc knows Miss" oedd ei eisiau ymateb ond mi fasa fo yn rhoi cais arni yn y ffordd arferol. "Wrong" Roedd o’n yn convinced fod rhai athrawon yn cael pleser yn ffeindio bae ar y plant o dan ei gofal. Gofal Ha! Chwerthin gwnaeth Gari allan yn uchel gan roi braw i gath oedd yn torheilio ar wal gyfagos. Digon o feddwl nôl am y cyfnod mwyaf erchyll yn ei fywyd. School! bechgyn a merched ag oedolion sarhaus! Lawr i Bier Bangor oedd Gari'n mynd ar ei 'constitutional' prynhawn. Bob diwrnod o'r flwyddyn fasa fo'n cerdded at y pen a nôl. Roedd hwnna yn dipyn o 50pence pieces ond yn farn Gari roedd o'n money well spent. Teimlo'n rhydd bob cerddediad at y pen. Er cof am hwn ac er cof am y llall! Nifer o bobol wedi marw ac wedi mynd fyny mewn mwg yn yr amlosgfa ar y bryn a'i enwau yn parhau am byth dan sŵn y gwylanod a'r acenion o Ogledd Lloegr. Hen Bier plaen oedd pier Bangor a dyna beth roedd o'n hoffi amdano fo. Dim frills! Understated! Gari yn gwawdio hyn am ddefnyddio gymaint o Saesneg ond rhoi'r bae ar yr ysgol a'i edwcation fasa Gari yn gwneud unwaith eto. Esgusodion di rhy a bai pawb arall. Roedd yn ymwybodol o'i ffaeleddau ond na fo! Rhy hwyr rŵan. Roedd o'n Fifty Five! Ar y domen, fo a'i hump beth bynnag oedd hwnna yn Gymraeg! Mi fasa e nhw yn deud wrtho fo yn ysbyty Bangor neu ryw wyddonydd da'i whiscas yn y Brifysgol. "Ecsuse me ond beth ydy 'hump' yn Gymraeg?' Roedd o'n gwybod ei fod o'n rhoi'r hump i sawl un yn dre. Bobol yn croesi'r ffordd i osgoi fo! Un ffrind honedig un noson yn y Boar yn deud wrtho yn blwmp ac yn blaen beth oedd yn bod gyda fo. Ymddiheuro diwrnod wedyn ond oedd y profiad wedi bod yn agoriad llygad i Gari. Dal dug mae sawl un yn gwneud ynte! Roedd o wedi bod i ffwrdd o'r lush am bum mlynedd bellach! Troi'n fifty a chnocio fo ar ei ben. Dim am y rhesymau arferol ond oherwydd bod o mor flydi expensive. Doedd o ddim yn gofidio am ei iechyd erbyn hyn. Roedd o eisiau 'out' so digon o fenyn ar ei dost yn y bore ag halen y môr, roedd Gari yn byw ar y crisialau. Yn aml fasau fo yn edrych i ddyfnderoedd y dŵr a meddwl sut fath o fywyd fasa fo yn Cantre'r Gwaelod. Roedd o wedi croesi i feddwl o beth fuasai fo yn gwneud tasa fo yn gweld un o'i hen athrawon ar y Pier. Yr athro yna roedd o wedi casáu gymaint. Casineb oedd wedi llifo trwyddo fo fel gwenwyn am gymaint o flynyddoedd. Dim ond hogyn yn ei harddegau all blasu casineb yn ei holl ogoniant. Mae 'na dda a drwg ym mhopeth does! Siŵr fod yna rhyw reswm am yr emosiwn yma neu pam fasa fo yn bodoli yn y lle cyntaf. Roedd Carchar Gogledd Cymru ar fin agor ag roedd Gari wedi gwneud cost analysis yn ei ben! Fasa fo yn cael 'life' ond fasa fo yn gallu pledio dyn laddiad ar old deud wrth y barnwr ei rhesymau am wneud.
Bwyd a diod a chwmni yn dy gell. Teledu! Plenty o S4C ac i gyd ar draul y trethdalwr. Roedd o ar y budd-dal rŵan so beth oedd yr ots. Sbïodd Gari i lawr i ddyfnderoedd unwaith eto, roedd yn dechrau nosi ag oeri. Roedd pysgotwr wedi gadael dipyn o dacl ar ôl. Bachyn neu ddau digon hyll ei olwg. Trodd Gari o gwmpas i edrych lawr y Pier i ble oedd golau bach beic a chanu cwrw yn dod o unigolyn  doedd o ddim wedi gweld ar y Pier o blaen. Dim yr athro gwaetha'r modd ond ei hen ffrind o'r Boar ers llawer dydd. Mae rhaid cael practis yn does! "i ddot neu U bedol Gari?"

Wales & Free Wales

I have just returned from a whistle stop tour of 'Free Wales' Free Wales aka 'Fortress Gwynedd'. Where the rugged terrain stops, the high craggy peaks and the forests, south of Dolgellau and just north of Machynlleth, that is where Free Wales ends and British Wales begins. This is the land that has kept the indigenous language. If Wales was as flat as the Netherlands, there would be no Welsh left. Guerrilla Warfare of a linguistic and cultural nature is being waged against a culture and language that had a large percentage of the world as its Empire. Tourists come and go. Where they feel that it is safe to stay, then they do so! In the hostel where I stayed last night just north of 'BedGelet' at the breakfast table this morning 'mummy' was holding court over two precocious nine year olds who I nicknamed Jocasta and Jemima. They were warned against having an 'energy meltdown' today because mummy was frazzled and one of the two asked whether "Daddy would be joining them in their adventures today or was he going to be a miserable toad as usual" and with that poor old hen pecked daddy walked in. I wonder who had taught the little darlings to refer to their father as a miserable toad? Well needless to say I left there in a rush and got to Porthmadog before the trendy cagoules and steam punkers of Gwyl Rhif 6 had amassed on the streets of 'Fortress Portmeirion'. I have family links to the town on one side but have never dallied and dawdled. I did the usual thing, book shop browse, coffee to go, walk, charity shop browse and back to the borrowed vehicle for the journey South. I am one for getting the vibe of places and sometimes I don't have to get out of the car, my antennae are that finely tuned. Betws -y-Coed and Beddgelert had sold their souls to the devil. Tacky is not the word. Caernarfon and Port were authentic and original but the tensions between making a buck and saving the language could be felt. The day previously I had been to Bangor aye! Like the rest of the North Wales coast, Bangor had fallen. I went into Pontio, the new arts centre, and felt that I had entered the tunnel of sensory deprivation. Everything was white. The architect and designer had obviously decided to play it safe in a Black and White world. Not wishing to offend anybodies tastes they went the way of the old MFI 'White Space'. I am convinced after a cursory 10- 15 minutes of a walk round, that working in that kind of environment would send you 'doollally tap' and you could start seeing spots in front of your eyes. The fact that the end result is so bleached and anodyne after its troubled gestation period is symptomatic to me of much of what is wrong with present day Wales. Cymru is losing its soul. British Wales with its Prince of Wales, Pie & Pint culture never really had one, and my fear is that unless Fortress Gwynedd pulls its finger out, it will go the same way. If the National Arsembly of Wales wont put up Border Controls and proper signs announcing ' A Cautious Welcome to Wales' then I suggest that Parc Cenedlaethol Eryri start charging people to get into the area. A ticket booth just outside Llanberis and Capel Curig might just do the trick with the same amount charged to enter the area of outstanding natural beauty as they charge to enter the area of British Wales in the South. Where amongst the tackiness of Beddgelert they will find to put the Southern Toll Booth is anybody's guess. This might all sound very defensive and passive aggressive dahling and whilst I don't want to deprive anybody of their fun, something must be done or future generations will be asking

"Pam ffwc wnaethoch chi gwerthu allan/mas?"

Caernarfon 2

http://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.co.uk/2014/11/caernarfon.html

Wel dyma fi nol yn dre! Mae wedi bod bron i ddwy flynedd ers i mi flasu awyrgylch y dref unigryw yma. Y dref fwyaf Gymraeg yng Nghymru! 84% o'r boblogaeth yn medru'r Gymraeg. Taten bob yn Cafe Cei ble oedd y fwydlen yn Gymraeg gyntaf, a'r Saesneg wedyn yn edrych fel y Gymraeg. Mae'r Maes dipyn bach yn flêr, gyda cheir a phobol yn croesi gilydd fel rhyw fath o wacky races gogleddol. Y teimlad heddiw oedd 'Rhyl yn cwrdd â Phontcanna'. Y real sef Rhyl yn cwrdd ag yr afreal sef Pontcanna.

Mae Rhyl yn rough ac mae Pontcanna yn gentrified cariad neu beth bynnag ydy gentrified yn Gymraeg. Beth sydd yn braf yng Nghaernarfon ydy clywed bron pawb yn siarad Cymraeg, y plant yn y llyfrgell yn cweryla yn Gymraeg. Rydym yn bobol mor barchus fel ein bod yn anghofio gall bobol cwympo mas a chweryla yn Gymraeg. Does dim rhaid i ni gyd fynd a chyd fyw ag efallai fasa fo yn beth iachus taswn ni cael ffrae fwy aml ond dan ni ddim yn ffraeo yn Gymraeg oherwydd efallai fydd o'n costion ni ein gwaith saff neu greu rhwyg yn y teulu ond mae'r 'goddefol ymosodol' fel disgrifwyd Google Translate am 'Passive Aggressive' yn ein lladd ni. Mae ymddwyn mor dda yn llethol. O am fod mwy fel y Gwyddelod neu'r Sbaenwyr. Os ti yn 'bad mwd' ti yn bad mwd ag bydd y bobol sydd yn dy adnabod di ac yn dy garu di yn deall hynny. Yn debyg i bob gwlad Geltaidd arall rydym yn boddi ein teimladau yn y ddiod gadarn ac mae tref Caernarfon ddim yn wahanol yn yr ystyr yma. Digon o le i gael peint real neu afreal. 'Here Endeth the Lesson' Pa bynnag lesyn oedd o.

Wers i mi i bracteisio fy Nghymraeg! Mi wnaeth rhywun doeddwn ddim yn adnabod sef rhywun oedd ddim yn fy nilyn ar y trydar yn pwyntio allan fy mod wedi cam dreiglo. Mi wnaeth hwnna bwrw fy hyder braidd. Wnaeth o roi rhyw fath o emoticon wincio ar ei ôl o ond mi wnes i weld y trydari fel un goddefol ymosodol ag mi wnaeth rhywun arall sylwad tebyg. Mi faswn ni byth yn pwyntio allan i neb fod nhw wedi cam dreiglo hyd yn oed mewn sbort. Tybed sut fath o groeso fuasent nhw yn cael yng Nghaernarfon tasant nhw yn ceisio gwneud yr un peth.  Cael ei alw yn 'Gont'  neu 'Chont' efallai!