It's good to be back, good to be Tom

Dear Tom,
You, like me, have I'm sure been impressed with the range of products available that cater solely to the mighty empire of the Brotherhood of Tom.
There have been fine snack bars in the form of Mr Tom, for when we Tom's need something small and sweet to boost our energy for the Tom related tasks of the day ahead. It is without doubt the worlds finest snack bar.

There has been the robust and filling Farmer(or something) Tom Lasagna which has seen us through many hard evenings when we have been about as thoroughly Tom as we can possibly be for the day and just don't have the energy to cook something in our inimitable Tom style. Perhaps we have run out of motivational Mr Tom bars? Who knows.
What is certain however, is that it is the finest frozen lasagne available on the market today and knocks Birdeye's lame attempt at a lasagna into a cocked hat.

Now, however my brethren is a time for great celebration. A time of great joy for the noble clan of Tom is at hand, for we now have the beer that will complete a hearty trifecta of goodness that will henceforth be known as a 'Tomfecta'.

May I introduce to you "The World's Best Ale" OLD TOM!

Isn't it beautiful?

I'm drinking it now and it's divine.

I would tell you that this is simply the world's best beer ever but I don't need to. The world has already decided this to be the case.

From the bottle: "Old Tom is a legend amongst beers. First created by the Robinson family in 1899. It is a wonderfully warming, dark strong ale with aromas of dark fruit and a palate booming with ripe malt and hops, slowly followed by a deep port wine finish. Not surprisingly OLD TOM has won almost every brewing accolade including THE WORLD'S BEST ALE."

Doesn't that inspire you Tom?

To think that this humble beer can start out life as a pile of plants and water and go on to achieve legendary status as being the world's greatest. It's not even a person.
You're a person.
A person called Tom!
Now get out there and be the best at everything you do!
I'm going to walk to the shop now but when I do I will go knowing that the world expects great things. I'll probably walk like nobody has ever walked before; perhaps using my eyes instead of my legs, people will see it and be amazed, knowing that there walks a true legend, a true Tom.

Warmest regards,

Tom

Is Stephen Hawking a Robot?

Evidence for the prosecution:

Item 1: Sounds like a Robot.
This is a diamond argument to kick off proceedings. Stephen Hawking without any shadow of a doubt sounds exactly like a robot! He has apparently been offered more human-like voices and turned them down on the pretty flimsy grounds that he feels his current voice is more expressive?
Yeah Stevo, well expressive...
... expressive like a vacuum cleaner!
Let's add robot ears to the list then.

Item 2: Wheels.
Stairs defeat robots and Stephen Hawkings in equal measure.
With his massive intelligence he could probably come up with an exo-skeleton or awesome manga style mech suit design in the time it takes most of us to figure out what kind of sandwich is for lunch, so why hasn't he? He's a robot sympathiser that's why! Next!

Item 3: A bit clever.
Actually quite a lot more than a bit clever! Steve has written more than one book with his arms quite literally tied behind his back, well OK, maybe down by his sides but still he didn't use his actual hands in any way. It was probably like some kind of magical scene from Fantasia with pens and things flying around the room, all accomplished merely with the power of his mind. If that doesn't impress you then consider for a moment that the books summed up pretty much everything that's happened in the universe ever and maybe you're starting to appreciate the sheer mental twatting that this guy could give you in a game of Scrabble....
...he'd put you in a wheelchair!

Item 4: CH, CBE, FRS, FRSA,
That's a lot of letters to have after your name isn't it? I mean what else can you think of that has letters like that after their name? Here's a clue....

 Ladies and Gentlemen the Beko DE2542FS Dishwasher! Obviously I'm not suggesting that our Ste' is a dishwasher, he'd be the last person to put his hand up after  a roast dinner, no, I'm suggesting that he's a robot... and they fear the water!
Actually so do cats. Obviously I'm not suggesting he's a cat though, that would be ridiculous. He doesn't even look like one.

Item 5: 50% metal (at least)
He's hardly trying to hide it is he? if he isn't a robot yet then he's certainly a top contender for cyborg of the year, which may not be an actual competition or award just at the moment but perhaps we should start one? What do you think? Cool, cool. So let's start with some nominations... Stephen Hawking? OK!

Hmm, seems like a pretty airtight case. Let's be fair though and give the defense a chance to respond.

Items for the defense.

 Item 1: He wants to save the humans.

He's actually sat in front of congregations of some of the worlds most powerful people and told them to sort their shit out. It's not good enough all this running about committing war on each other and we really ought to spend less cash on rockets aimed at each others face and more on ones aimed at outer-space. He's actually worked out what our incredible star rocket would cost and all he wants is about 0.001% or world GDP, about what we spend on punching children or something if I remember correctly... something we can do without anyway.
Who's making this rocket though? I think it's Steve and his mates... but since all of his mates are probably robots then I'm not so sure we should trust him. It's probably all just a cunning ruse to get us to pay for his giant robot balls or something.

Item 2: I am bored so there is no item 2
No item 2?
Exactly!

The Verdict:

GUILTY!

 Disclaimer: Obviously this is all bullshit stuff, not what I (or any sane person) would actually think, so let's all celebrate the fact that Steve is really awesome and try not to throw cans of oil at him in the street as he careens past in his giant mech suit.
We love you Steve... please save us all!

Magical Greeting Cards of Whimsy Attack!

Just look at this beast!

I mean wow!
How could you possibly have anything less than a "Wonderful Birthday" when you've just been presented with this? In fact after seeing that even on a regular day (or perhaps even a particularly miserable day) how could the rest of it be anything less than a kitten-fueled loveathon?
Think that's good? Course you do!
Well you ain't seen nothin' yet baby!

Jesus!... Jesus H Christ!
Has his birthday ever been celebrated in a more lovely way? No way! Just look at it! When this card arrived on the scene people were totally gay. Which at the time meant happy because everyone was so much more innocent back then... not any more though... now everyone's guilty!
Don't feel too bad though because.....

Bam! .
You just got served....
...with flowers!
You see this is brilliant because a kid dressed like this would turn up on your doorstep with flowers and a card in hand and that card the kid is carrying would be this one! It's like a bloody hall of mirrors!
Later on when the kid had left, the recipient of the flowers could look at this card and reminisce about the happy time when she got some flowers and a card. She would then look forward to tomorrow when she would probably get some more, because back then people sent each other cards and flowers all the time. Not like now when all people send each other is Anthrax, and their only wish for their fiance is to be more attractive. Why are we such scum these days?
Anyway...

Now that's service!
You see food back in the day was a bit shit. Basically it was made of glass, gravel and the occasional bit of Spam, so obviously it needed to be cooked for weeks to cut down on the amount of tumors it gave you. That didn't matter though because when it did eventually arrive, the chef would bring it over to you personally in a proper chefs hat and a proper chefs moustache with this card (possibly under his hat) to apologise for his rubbish slowness. He didn't have to do it but he did. He was a great guy!

...and then!

Now isn't that just adorable?!
You bet your ass it is!
It doesn't even need words because that would restrict its' appeal to a specific occasion. No. This card was for any time. That's just the way things were. People would just buy cards because they were awesome and anything printed in actual colour was a pretty damn exciting thing to behold.
People didn't even need to have a friend to buy this for, they could simply buy this and put it on their fireplace. This is how people learnt about things like Tigers before documentaries. They simply looked at this beautiful image and thought how great it would be to tickle a Tigers belly, never fearing for a moment that it might not be too impressed and bite their face off.
Good times!

Mad as a flatmate

Over the years of student living I've had some great flatmates. Encouraging and engaging, humorous and gracious. There have also been others. Others whom on a mad-as-cheese scale would firmly land in the stinky Brie category.
One such flatmate who when I arrived home one night decided that it would be nice to offer me all the drugs in the world!...

...I decided against all the drugs in the world and instead went to bed. Several hours later I was awoken by the same flatmate.... naked, stood over my bed, saying, "Come on Tom, I want you to play with me!"

Quite why is it that this offer had to come from the fat, ugly, balding guy in his thirties and not the two hot Asian chicks that I also lived with?
Rubbishness.

Coffee

Coffee is bloody fantastic stuff isn't it. Better than most stuff anyway.
  My coffee drinking career started at an early age. So early in fact that I can't remember how long ago it was I was just that young... or maybe I was seven. What I do remember though is what my father told me after I asked him what he was drinking one morning, he said "It's coffee" quickly followed by "you won't like it" and then the most preposterous "you're too young"....

...oh dear.
 A simple "It's coffee." would have been the perfect response. I doubt I would have bothered him further about it and would have forever remained a juice drinker - but he didn't.
Telling me I won't like something was tantamount to saying "Only high level super-beings like this drink. Are you awesome enough to handle it?" adding "you're too young" was just silly and he might just as well have stuck a funnel down my throat and started pouring.

So sat there, quietly sipping, there was no way in hell I would ever admit to disliking the revolting drink that  my father had consequently given me. It was so bitter that I must have looked like I'd been raped by a lemon. Seeing my expression  my fathers face lit up with deranged glee in his eyes and remarked "I said you wouldn't like it" (though in my mind it went more along the lines of "Pah! you are but a mere child, now you see you are not ready for drinks this awesome?").
So I downed the lot.

As time passed my coffee swilling habits had grown to the stage to which most University Lecturers only attain after decades of practice and poor hygiene. My morning pint of coffee was black and had no less than 4 heaped teaspoons of instant with a one-to-one sugar ratio. I believe at this stage in my life I was probably better at drinking coffee than I was at breathing and if I concentrated hard enough I could willingly stop time.
It was then that my father introduced me to REAL COFFEE!
Real coffee was nothing short of a revelation. It was almost like I'd lived my whole life thinking I knew what an aeroplane was until one day somebody pointed out that what I thought was an aeroplane was actually a pigeon.
The difference is not a small one. The difference is so huge in fact that it's as if someone had tried to describe real coffee to the makers of gravy granules but didn't want to use anything so obvious as a cup of the stuff or actual words and had instead decided the best way to convey the taste of coffee was through the art of mime.... from several hundred metres away.
Years later and I still require a cup of coffee to wake me up in the mornings, although I seem less able to drink vast quantities of the stuff than I used to. More than three cups in a day seems to invoke some kind of short heart attack coupled with a mild aneurysm. I even gave the stuff up for a short while and instead of coffee I drank fruit smoothies but found that the only way fruit could wake me up properly in the morning was if I jammed a pineapple in my eye repeatedly.

For some reason I don't feel I can sign off on this post without telling you what is in my opinion the finest coffee on the planet. It's Guatemalan Maragogype, French Roast - Elephant bean. "What's an elephant got to do with it?", you ask. I'm not sure you really want to know... but I'll tell you anyway.
It's because the coffee beans are fed to the elephant along with a special diet of stuff and things (a kindly old woman in a shop actually told me once but I can't remember) so that when it comes out the other end it has been seasoned to the kind of perfection that only an elephants anus can truly achieve. It's then washed and sent to me.
You want to try some now don't you?

Me, Myself and Lies

Having written several blogs before (this being my fifth (yet my first in some years) I'm well aware of the boring content that comprises most of them. The main problem here is that for the most part people tend to write about themselves.
 This is all fine and perfectly good reading if it's about a Ninja Assassin Billionaire with evil aspirations for world domination. That's the type of person you want to live vicariously through, safe in the knowledge that you'll probably never have to actually tangle with their golden shruikens of doom.
 Not so welcome of course is the type of blog that turns out to be a dissertation on the day-to-day life of a Dictionary Salesman, Bee Keeper or slightly angsty emo-child. It lacks bite. It lacks verve. It lacks anything even remotely interesting to most of the outside world.
 So that won't happen here. Instead of the entirely mundane life of a Graphic Designer which generally (for the most part) consists of my changing programs between Photoshop and Illustrator and on slightly more exciting days taking a photo or two, I will embellish.
  For example I might go out of the house and walk about a bit in the park...
...this simply will not do. For one thing it's far too short a story. It may well be the most exciting thing about my day but interesting it is not. Instead it would be far more interesting to say that not only did I leave the house and go to the park but also that I was attacked by a pack of ravenous squirrels and had to fight them off by fashioning a club out of the nearest Badger. This could then be accompanied by a picture of a badger like this.

 Much better than a picture of me...
...here's a picture of me anyway with my eyes, in my head, behind my glasses, seeing boring things.

 
Anyway please don't be put off by my boring face I promise never again to bore you with it and to instead excite you with tales of things more interesting and perhaps more pictures of badgers.