Question Time made my head explode.

So, there I was, letting a beautiful curry go down whilst watching some TV with my dad, and before I know it, we're talking about the scientific possibility of actually properly reversing the ageing process. After a long day at work, to say I was slightly confused by this conversation is somewhat of an understatement.

There are all sorts of moral issues to consider - such as what would be the point of reproduction, and where would we put everyone? There are those who would see these complications and dismiss the idea because of its impracticalities, but I would strongly disagree with anyone who thought it would be a bad idea to try. It would mean that human kind has conquered time, which would be the most incredible achievement to date. If you could remain, for example, in the body of a 24 year old forever, you'd probably take that. No-one would die of things such as cancer, in fact, the only way to die would be to actually commit suicide, or a heart attack.

This conversation made me think about some of the amazing things that have been discovered over the last 600 years or so. Who knew that light could be manufactured, or that electricity could be harnessed into producing that, and so forth. No-one thought you'd be able to make a television flat 10 years ago, let alone thinner than the average slice of bread. No-one thought that mp3 would ever take-off, or that you could record video and show it on a big-screen, or a small screen, or anything. Science has provided us with so much more than we started with, and breaking the code to effective immortality, however preposterous it may sound right now, probably isn't that far away. And just imagine...

It's a distant dream, and would no doubt only be available to the rich, and perhaps the very poor on the NHS, of course.

Of course, it seems all the more distant because there are very stupid people in high places. For example, Question Time last night featured the issue of the head of the Met Police and his apparent impeachment over the death of an 'innocent' man, who was shot dead after pretty much getting in the way of an anti-terror unit. Yes, there is an obvious irony in his passing, and there are plenty of people who say that people shouldn't be killed by policemen in this country when they haven't done anything wrong, but he was looking a bit dodgy, and there's all these other excuses...but, the bottom line is this; would you rather an anti-terror officer, someone who is highly trained in their line of work and put their lives on the line of the safety of the general public was allowed to do his job without having to second guess himself as to whether he'll be sued by someone later on? Because if that isn't the case, next time we are in this position of being a target of terrorism - and it will happen - people are likely to die. And not just one dodgy looking Frenchman - hundreds of innocent people.

Unfortunately, the biggest cause of death these days is living. You run the risk of going out and never coming back, and even more unfortunately, shit happens - especially in London, especially on the Tube. Sir Ian Blair wasn't there, and he acknowledges it wasn't one of the Met Police's finest moments, but his force saved a lot more than they ended.

So lay off him.

I hate the Daily Mail.

So, now we've all calmed down from the whole rugby thing, and Jonny-fever has reached its climax (for one guy in the pub we watched the final at, that had more than one meaning), normal service can resume, we can get on with our lives. Anyone who read my first entry will know that this isn't awfully exciting for me.

However, times are a-changing. This month, it's my girlfriend's birthday. Some may even say, if they are being picky, that it's this week. My cup is half-full, so I'm sticking with next week. Now, I'm the first to admit, I'm crap at birthdays and cards and thoughtful presents and stuff, and normally people understand and let me get away with treating them at the bar, and maybe a stupid present (I once bought a vertically-challenged friend of mine a novelty Mr Men 'Small Person on Board' sign for his car. He accepted it with the usual good grace and called me a 'c*nt'). I don't think I'll get away that easy with my girlfriend though. Apparently, flowers are important, and I think a thoughtful card will be in order too.

But flowers are shit, aren't they? You have them a week, then they dry up and die. They're a bit like goldfish - forget to water them, and it's curtains. And I never know what to write in cards. I can't decide between something loving and thoughful (after which I think 'I sound like such a girl') or something short and non-commital (after which I think 'She'll turn me into a girl'), or just ignore it all and write her name, my name and 'Happy Birthday' in big, blue biroed letters. And a picture of a guy farting on the front. I suppose other people's birthdays are specifically to demonstrate how much of an arse you can really be.

And later on, we're going to Madrid. And it's just dawned on me, it's our first couply holiday together, and I don't really know who else is going. I really should try and find this information out, because I think it may prove important. You know, so I can decide whether or not to pack some extra books to while away the hours of boring company. Or my Xbox. Maybe I'll take some illegal drugs with the specific intention of being caught and being detained, just so I don't have to go. It'll get me dumped though, so I won't. I can't afford drugs either - honestly, how do people keep up habits? I can't even afford to get to work and back at the moment!

Politics, now, and my favourite bit this week was when they discovered that half of jobs created in the last 10 years have been filled by immigrants, and readers of the Daily Mail were outraged that they're coming over here, stealing all our jobs. I share lifts with one such immigrant, and I honestly have to say she could be from Poland, or Korea, or Mars, and she's a better worker than most of the British candidates we interview or even take on. The Daily Mail readers will fume at that, I'm sure, but I guess they won't take issue with it, because I don't meet them in the queue for their Giro. Oh no he didn't...

But my favourite bit of all of that was the reference to Gordie Brown's Conference speech a month or so ago, when he made that pledge for 'British jobs, for British workers'. Ho-ho, what a farce your government looks now, Big G - Tony Blair must be laughing all the way to Hertfordshire, or wherever his meagre pension allows him to live. But no, the best bit - after Gordon made himself popular with everyone by not giving them a choice on the EU referendum and simply 'giving in' to Europe, he's actually gone and thrown the most outrageous dummy; as David Davis, the ridiculously-named BBC correspondent pointed out 'British jobs for British workers; that's actually illegal in the EU'. Yep, Gordon's sticking two fingers up to the Brussel sprouts, or bigwigs, and standing up for unequal rights.

The dumb Scottish twat. Still, 2.7 million new workers won't agree with me. Or is it 2.2 million? Seems the Home Office lost count. Ah, what the hell - half of them don't speak English anyway.

I sometimes wonder. Who's more naive - our new rookie Prime Minister, making spin errors that Tony Blair would never have even had the opportunity to, or the people who are so ill-informed about the labour situation in this country that they can't see that migrant workers are, in so many ways, enhancing the quality of services and products? It's not good for those unemployed Daily Mail readers, sure - but if they got off their backsides and actually made a success of themselves, they wouldn't be moaning. They wouldn't have to buy the Daily Mail, either.

Oh...and now the sport. Well, actually, the music. I'm on the hunt for a new band, because I'm missing practicing and rehearsing and arsing around with sounds, so I've joined a website, which is a bit like a dating website for wannabe rockstars, and hooked myself up with a few suitors. Should be fun!

And will someone please send me a link so I can watch the latest episode of Scrubs! PLEASE!!!

You don't get gold for second place.

"Sometimes in sport things don't make sense and predictions are not right, and it is a very special day when the underdog rises up" - Phil Vickery

I've had that fuzzy feeling all night, ever since about 9:44pm when the England rugby team unceremoniously disposed of France's World Cup hopes. I love it when we beat the French - it's on a par with beating the Aussies.

What a way to do it, as well. After being outplayed and outclassed twice, just before the competition, by the French, it meant a lot to win it when it mattered - something the French never seem capable of doing. What was even more amazing was the emotion a win for the rugby can generate within the public - I was in a bar in Bristol when the final whistle went, and people were hugging each other, cheering, shouting - a friend of mine admitted to crying when it was all over. What a win, what a performance...I'll let her off though, it was her birthday.

What really struck me was the contrast between a win like that for the rugby team, and, for example, a win for their footballing counterparts. Football is a sport that over the last decade, has become downtrodden with foreign imports, greed, mediocrity and dishonesty. More poignantly, it seems fairly common knowledge that England would probably get beaten by Manchester United - even if United allowed England the likes of Rooney and Ferdinand. International sport should be the pinnacle of sporting achievement, the highest level - and yet, watching games like England versus Estonia, you get the feeling that it's all a bit Davis Cup - this isn't the big league, this isn't the summit of professional achievement. I think it's the same everywhere. Jose Mourinho, for all of his Portuguese pride, doesn't want the Portugal management job, and you know why? Because winning the Champions' League is more of a rush, and more of an achievement. And it's not like that in rugby.

Rugby is a far more honest game, even though to really succeed at it, you need a certain amount of 'street wise' - i.e. to cheat, but not get caught. The really great forwards are renowned not for being strong or quick, but for winning ball at the breakdown by any means necessary, by putting off your opposite number, laying down a marker. In terms of laying down a marker, there is none finer than our own Jonny Wilkinson. He has shown in this World Cup that there is much, much more to his game than the metronomic left foot that won us the Webb Ellis Trophy last time round - which is just as well, because he's been about as reliable as a Bristol bus in that regard - but his hit on Fabien Pelous last night (which effectively ended Pelous' career) was brave, and eventually gave England an advantage in the scrum, as it prompted the arrival of Chabal. Matt Stevens gave Chabal a similar treatment, and two of the French lynchpins were muted. Brutal, but effective. All this week, Phil Vickery, a local hero of mine (a Gloucester boy) has been going on about laying bodies on the line, giving it everything - and in football, a speech like this would be metaphorical. Not in the game, for these men. They gave it everything, for the second week in a row, everyone from Vickery, to Corry, to wiry little Mathew Tait. Even Wilkinson, a man whose career was almost ended from an overly physical early career - still putting in massive hits on men taller and heavier than he. Most of these men will only get one shot at World Cup glory - for those who have already tasted it, they will want even more - and so, they will give everything to lift that trophy once more. And unlike the England football team...everyone who associates themselves with being English will be behind them.

The reason for this isn't because we know they are the greatest team to walk the planet, or even the best team in this World Cup. It's not because they thrill crowds with fabulous skills, or even great ruthlessness. The reason is, and it's the reason that would make this triumph greater than the one four years ago, this is a team we can be proud of - a team that is so bullishly English, we cannot help but associate with it. This World Cup has been full of wonderful sub-plots - the Argentina team coming of age, the Australians and the All Blacks being dumped out in a matter of hours, the emergence of Georgia and Tonga and Portugal, and the cold, harsh reality check suffered by the Irish and Welsh - but none have been more spectacular than the turnaround in fortunes of the England team. Ultimately, that word 'team' will be the key, and the one that will take the field in Paris next Sunday night have grown in character and stature in extraordinary fashion. One can only hope that it is not to finish second best - because that would be so characteristic of their footballing counterparts.

Get behind the England rugby team - they have filled us with every emotion possible in the World Cup this year. The only one missing is triumph.

My cold day in the sun.

Greetings all - it's my day off, so I thought I'd best write something.

I've been doing a bit of thinking, and besides causing myself a bit of a headache, I realised; if there was one thing I wish I had more of, one thing in the entire world - it would be time. I wish I had more time to go and do the all the things I'd love to do. Right now, I'd love the chance to spend an entire day drinking, and have another week to sleep it off. I'd love to have the time to go and see my girlfriend and my other friends back up at uni. More than that, I'd love to be able to spend the entire day in bed and not feel guilty for wasting one of my precious days off.

I once watched a Matchbox Twenty gig, and at the end of the show, Rob Thomas said something to the crowd that's stayed with me ever since I saw it on the DVD...um. Yeah. He said 'The only currency that really matters in this world is your time and how you spend it', and I guess the point is, as you long as you spend your time in the most enjoyable way possible, or the most productive way possible, you won't look back at the end of it all and regret wasting time. I have certain friends who haven't really done anything with their lives since leaving school, despite being capable of so much more - I don' want to be the guy who still lives with my parents at 25, the guy who spends his life playing war fantasy games when really, that's the time you should really be making that change in your life to make the most out of yourself.

That said - I don't think it's ever too late to reinvent yourself, to become the person you want to be. I know some pretty amazing people who had no idea what they wanted to be two years ago, and the transformation is incredible. Maybe it's just because I'm at that age where the pack really starts to spread - some people get on with it, they have their success and, ultimately, closure; and those people who kinda get left behind a little - but it pains me to see people who haven't achieved anything, when you know, and they know, they are capable of so much more.

I don't know, I'm not in a position to judge here. All I believe is that when your time comes, you need to try your best to be in a position to say 'I'm ready to go'. No-one's got official confirmation of the meaning of life, so we're all just guessing here - but I would hate to look back on it all and wonder what could have been. The problem is - I know I'm going to, because I'm not a proactive kinda guy, I don't like making those big decisions that define a life, because I hate the idea of having no way back. But you can't spend your entire life swimming in the shallow end, because if you do, you'll end up with a massive sense of unfulfilment, and you see it everyday.

I'd just hate to be one of those guys, I want to be proud of what I've done with my life. I'm not there yet, not by a long shot - but I'm pretty determined to give it a go.

I'm not writing this to tell everyone what they should be doing with their lives - you might like World of Warcraft, and that's fine - I'm writing it to make a point, to provoke thought about how it's really going. Distractions and dreams are great things - but when you let them take over, that's when I think they hold you back. I guess it's about striking a balance.

The official rules of the Yellow Car/Mini game.

Here it is; the definitive rule book of the Yellow Car and Mini game.

BASIC RULES.

1. a) The car MUST be yellow; not gold, greeny-yellow, light brown or bronze, or any of that bollocks.
b) The car must be a Mini - either the new shape, which counts as one punch, or an 'old-school' Mini, a Mk1 shape, which counts as double.

2. The following vehicles qualify for the Yellow Car game: Cars, vans, lorries, motorbikes, buses - i.e. anything with wheels that is powered by itself. Trailers and bicycles are not valid vehicles, as they are powered by another party.

3. Upon sight of a yellow vehicle, shout 'Yellow car' (or 'yellow van' e.t.c, depending on the vehicle). If you are the first, you may punch a participant of your choice on the arm or leg.

4. If a player sees a yellow Mini, they may shout 'Yellow Mini', and dish out two punches to a player of their choice. If the player sees a yellow old school Mini, the punishment is tripled (i.e. 6 punches).

5. The 'Mini Rumble' clause; if the players pass a Mini showroom or forecourt, either player may call 'Mini Rumble', and an open mini-rumble may ensue, for a length of 5 seconds.

6. JCBs and other construction vehicles are only eligible if they are in motion; they do not usually come in any other colour than yellow, and they are normally seen in numbers, so do not count unless they are in operation.

7. Vehicles being transported by a car transporter are valid; they count as parked cars and are fair game.

Any amendments or challenges to the rule book should be listed in a comment! Happy punching!

The state of things.

So, day one. Or, as a formerly popular reality show would have it, 'dee wun'. And here's the first thing about me.

I've created a blog, and I haven't really got anything to say. Keep reading, folks!

Well, here's the opportunity to introduce myself. My name's Joe, I'm a 21 year old student who's just about a third of the way through a placement year, which means I'm one of those rare student specimen who get up early every day, actually do some work, and spend no time in the pub. I still wish I was the other kind of student. To that end, I still haven't passed my second year, perhaps out of incompetence, but I prefer to think of it as holding onto the life I had last year. You know, bed, beer and bad exam results.

I love my music. I'm not one of these people who pigeon-hole their music tastes. I used to like anything that demonstrates talent, but then Muse came along, and for all their undoubted brilliance, I fucking hate them. As a guitarist, it used to be only bands who used guitars, but then I started playing the piano. So, I've given up on trying to define my taste in music, and will instead just list a couple of bands who are rocking my world this week. You get judged too much on your music taste anyway.

Okay, now for something meaningful. There's an enormous amount of criticism of sites like this, or more accurately, Facebook and MySpace, with parents angered that their kids can interact with complete strangers and display all of their personal information. Let me share an opinion.

There are such things as parental controls. Parental controls come in two forms - the first being the setup on the computer limiting access to certain sites and certain types of site. Take a little time to set it up, because at the end of the day, stopping your child from visiting certain types of website will give them a bit more protection. Parental control also means...yes, that's right. Taking responsibility for your child. If you don't want them using Facebook, give them an alternative. Let them see their friends. But don't start spoiling everyone else's freedom of speech because you didn't take the time to make sure your little girl wasn't talking to some sex beast.

Unfortunately, this is the situation today. Keep your kids in, and they wind up becoming recluses, spending their entire time on BookFace or their Zboxes, or they can go out and join a gang, selling drugs to even younger toddlers and engaging in happy slappings with 7 year olds. Or...you could take a fucking interest in what they're doing. Then, maybe, they wouldn't feel the need to not tell you what they got up to when they went to the mall, or who's coming over to tea next week.