Why is the BBC killing the Met Office? Money. That’s Why.


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The John Kettley is a weather man app will be released shortly.  Because from now on although the Met Office will be forecasting the weather it will be broadcast to us by some fucking dot com that will be taking the Met office’s data and delivering it to us through some diaphanous cloud of bits and bytes.

This is the work of evil.

Some fucking BBC procurement officer went home on Friday night to be kissed on the forehead by his ugly wife as she said;

“Hello Henry how was work today?”

“Splendid Daphne. I ended 93 years of brilliant service, scuppered a large number of meteorologists careers and saved the tax payer threepence halfpenny when I appointed Meatoffice.com to do the weather from now on.”

“Oh Henry you are so adorable.  Shall we make some jam?”

“Yes Daphne.  No, actually, I am so high on adrenalin.  Let’s make…marmalade.”

Whoever Henry is in real life he is to be despised.

Let’s hear it for John Kettley as the BBC procurement team stuff action man sized models of Michael Fish up their anuses.

I think we did the right thing bailing from the golf this morning


80 mile an hour wind gusts with the prevailing windspeed around 30mph.

The group that went out in front of us at Lundin Links on Fife’s southern coast lasted one and a half holes, lost one of their trolleys which blew onto the beach and one of the players had already also lost three balls.

We had a bacon roll, a cup of tea and headed home.

Common sense prevailing over the prevailing winds.

 

Today was bad


I’ll keep it short.

3 hours to get to work in Glasgow.

Good day there actually.

3.5 hours back despite leaving at 2.30.

Lot of pissedoffdness involved

Give up on Scotrail and hail taxi.

Taxi driver refuses to drive to South Queensferry.

(More money to be made in town.)

Scotrail ineptitude off the scale.

Leave for Manchester.

1 hour later, including car dig out and unbelievable local driving conditions, pull into Tesco Petrol station.

Fill up with Petrol.

Realise car takes diesel.

Have to enlist four chaps to push me off the money bit.

Walk home in blizzard.

Get drunk.

Write post.

Night.

The season of goodwill is upon us and I sincerely ask for your support


Many of you will be aware of the unique, and I mean unique, event that is “The Loony Dook”.

Here’s a picture of it from the past.

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First off, it is probably the least PC event held this, or any other, year and will no doubt at some point in the future be renamed “The not overly sensible swim.”

And that would be fine if that was what it was called, because that is what it is.

It is the coming together of several hundred people, on the morning of January 1st , at 11.30 am to swim in the River Forth at South Queensferry.

For the record, here is the weather forecast for the next five days to show you just what we are letting ourselves in for.

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Of course, it might get warmer, it might get cooler. One thing is for sure. It ain’t gonna be Boca Raton!

So, why?

Why indeed?

And where do you, dear reader, come in?

The answer is simple.

Charity!

My dear mate Terry Bryant had a nasty dust with cancer for a great deal of this year and decided he should bring some of his mates to their aid in terms of fundraising to support the respite centre, The Maggie’s Centres, who came to his aid when he needed them.

So, I am to bare my chest, my arse and my fortitude to the freezing Scottish winter so that you lot can have a laugh at my expense and Terry can help out Maggies.

Do me a favour.

If you’ve enjoyed even a moment of my ridiculous waffling on gibberish this year, post a comment committing to sponsor me in my moment of madness; sorry, non-conformism.

If not, have a happy Christmas all the same.

PS If, you’r reading this on your return to work after the New Year and you wished you could have helped. It’s not too late. I’ll be posting the evidence of my participation on this blog so you can be sure I delivered and I’ll happily accept sponsorship post event!.