Apparently, for some reason, some woman some time in the past said that for some reason we shouldn't cry over spilt milk. It was her way of saying that milk was not something to be worried about.

That it's already happened. Why bother trying to change it when you can meerly stop yourself spilling milk in the future? She may also have coined other phrases about milk. She may or may not have been married to a dairy farmer. She may not even exist and be a complete work of fiction by a PR executive from Robert Wiseman Dairies. Or Cravendale. These facts are things with which I will not concern myself.

Because the main topic of my blog today is indeed, not milk. But fat. And co-incidientally the fat that is in milk. So urm, yes, my blog is about milk. And for a milk centred topic, it's not about coffee shops.

It is instead about the complete amount of ludicrasy that surrounds milk.

Having just made myself a coffee, in an exclusive Nic Parkes mug as seen on the homepage, I discovered a new PURPLE bottle of milk.

This milk is called "the one" and claims to be as creamy as semi-skimmed milk while being as low fat as skimmed.

Surely that is NOT POSSIBLE.

On another note, I am aware of a semi-semi-skimmed ORANGE top milk from Sainsbury's, thanks to Mr Tom Holt.

Surely. On this earth. We can cope with just "skimmed," and "whole," I thought. Having considered the inifinate possiblities of the milks that are on sale in today's supermarkets.

But then I realised that I was the problem with my own solution to a problem that should never have existed, and if it had I should never have noticed because I don't even like milk.

I dislike skimmed milk in my coffee. In fact, I just dislike skimmed milk. It's like trying to give someone a hug when they're only available to you in 2D. It's rather difficult, less satisfying than you want it to be and overall just ... well, a bit rubbish.

My mother, on the other hand, sees whole milk as being friends with not only the devil but with Jeremy Kyle. His ITV2 scum is not coming anywhere near her Earl Grey - and Lady Grey is so bemused that she's left the cupboard to be replaced by PG Tips and Monkeeehhhh. Not an equal replacement. If Tesco sent it on home delivery, I'd most certainly return it.

Therefore, we settle for semi-skimmed. Which because none of us drink that much milk, also tends to be Cravendale. Because it really is so good that not only do the cows want it back, they actually send you a pre-paid waterproof envelope*.

So what is the future? Well, in order to prevent global warming and save all of the little kiddies in Africa - and solve the credit crunch - and cure everyone of illnesses - we should only have semi-skimmed. Since it is the only thing available, by law, in my world then no-one shall moan. And anyone that does shall be bathed in lard. Or in water. Depending on whether they were moaning about the unavailablility of skimmed (the lard option) or whole (the water option).

And to be honest, before anyone thinks about it, don't even start me on bloody skinny water.

Nx

Having lived in the furthest place away from the sea side you could get - this is quite an attractive change. Don't you think?

Seriously, do people actually think things like this are actually... like...funny?? Like...Really? Like...funny. Like laughing funny? I vote we lock them in the toilet. Using fire. The state of the world today....

As if you needed proof I was a smiley happy person, heh??
Nx

It's a good way to go about life. But while I'm off out busying it around the weekend, here's a selection of other posts that you could read to keep yourself amused. They're just pretty damn cool, to be honest! And most of them are from blogs I love or read every single bloody day. You should read them too!

A project that gets a till printer recycled:
http://tomtaylor.co.uk/projects/microprinter/

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A very attractive looking Tesco store...
http://knolleary.net/2009/03/11/holy-trinity-tesco/

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and a table of transponders at the BBC Press Red Blog
http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/pressred/2009/03/flightarrivalsandweather.shtml

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Have a nice day!! :)

Nic x

Something always astounds me about GG's production values - mainly in just how bloody well high they are. So urm, ye, watch this video and head over to ggnation.

I got a very worrying email today. To be honest, it breaks a lot of rules and is nothing more than sickening. I think I need to share it with you in order for you to understand exactly how wrong this email is. I'm concerned in fact, less for Elaine but more for her boyfriend.



Now, I'm not normally one to be picky. But Elaine says she found my email address on "that" dating site - and I feel I must request information as to what dating site, exactly, she found my name on. Is there, in fact, a site called "thatdatingsite.com?". A quick Google reveals that, in fact, there IS a thatdatingsite.com. I have not searched for Elaine on this site, since my heart does not long for her. Unfortunately, it longs more for chips and gravy or a breadless sandwich than it does for Elaine's side-sex.

My second concern was indeed for her boyfriend. Working 16 hours a day, the man is currently managing to mount up 112 hours a week of work. Even at NMW, and there's a chance that if his employer is breaking the working time directive rules then they're also breaking minimum wage rules, that is earning him £641.76 a week. And although he is only earning this little, in search of sinful intercourse - Elaine is spending this money not on their (undoubtedly) starving children's school dinners.

Buying them Kit Kats she is not. No, she's looking for sex a little to the right and she's having the nerve to email me about it. Presumably, her boyfriend's mobile contract entitles him to free internet or suchlike, otherwise she would be wasting even more money on this god damn awful pro-creation of the slightly to the left. And I'm not talking political ideologies here guys.

But then I looked more closely at the thatdatingsite.com website - and something even more concerning occured to me. It was a testimonial from one of their 'clients' ... I see a huge problem with this as a positive testimonial for a dating site.



I have placed the offending part of the testimonial in bold for you. I see huge problems with this as a ... successful website, and perhaps now re-understand why it is called thatdatingsite.com, rather than thatdatingsite.com.

Nx

When I was driving back from Brighton on Saturday, I went under a bridge having noticed something rather sinister. It didn't click to me what it was at first - but it's now quite obvious. I saw a Google Camera Car doing it's street level view camera taking. How weird.

I'd argue that they were invading my privacy or some of that rubbish - but frankly, why bother - when searching "Nic Parkes" gives you at least 7 solid pages of stuff I've written, been involved in, or am connected with in some way.

In fact, the other day - searching my name produced several articles featuring quotes from me I didn't even know I'd given to a newspaper, and one article which said things about me I was less than pleased with.

Argh. Fame.

A serious blog for a little bit of a while. Because I need something to link to that will genuinely help people who are completely and utterly confused by this non-daily-updated site called Daily Nixx, on nicparkes.com.

So you're new and you're a bit lost. Don't let that worry you too much. I'm quite lost too. Once you've got used to me, you'll probably agree I'm the most lost one around.

It's 00:24 and I've just done some updating to the site. So I figured I'd add a bit of a help guide which I can link to to explain some new features.

You all know what these are don't you? Essentially, I want to have a conversation with you - about what I've written about. You write something, fill in your details and press the "spew" button, and it'll appear on the site. At the moment, the comments appear instantly. They aren't moderated, or closed after any period of time. When I get sick of the spam, this will change. And comments will be closed automatically and sometimes might be put in a moderation queue. Obviously, if I don't like the comment you make - I will delete it. What I'll never do though, is change the comment. It stays as it is, or it goes. End of. Either way, I won't contact you about anything I do delete. I just can't be bothered. No, really. I can't.

When you put your email address into the blog comment form, we'll use it to match you to your Gravatar account - that means you can have the same avatar on all of the sites you comment on. Including no-one's favourite Dalek, Dominic. If you want to sign up, hit the link above! We display everything - so if you see something that offended you in a gravtar then I'm sorry. I just don't believe in not having the full picture on this site.

While it's new I've made this feature quite obvious - if you like a post but can't be bothered to comment on it, click the "like" link - up by the title. The blog records you liked it and it shows up. So at least you made some effort? Once this beds in, I'll make the display of how many people like the post a bit more subtle. And find a way to get around the fact it isn't possible to not display it if the votes are nill. Or is there. Well, there is, but I can't be arsed right now. So heh. Conditional statements rock.

So there we have it. Any of you want some more features? Well you can ask Andy Kings how long it took him to get comments. Can't you?

Yes.

You can.

So do it.

Why you still here? Off with you now. Over to Andy King's blog!

Oh you don't know where it is?

Well I'm not gonna tell you.

The bunch of people who are too old trying to be a lot yonger than they are came back onto BBC THREE this week. And I was overjoyed.

And the best bit is, the show was actually back to its fantastic former glory. For those of you who don't watch it, Ralph Little, who played Johnny in the series, decided he didn't want to take part anymore - so his character was killed off, in an over the top "jumping the shark" (litterally) kind of way.

And then the whole series had nothing happen. I mean, at all.

It was absoloutely awful.

It was like living with Gordon Brown.

But on Sunday night, not detered by this abismal excuse for a series, we were back. Forget a few basic facts about how the situation came to be, and we'd got Janet and Gaz as a proper couple. Janet was back as a proper character. She wasn't moaning a lot, and in fact they even recognised the fact that it had been awful in the script. Which I admired.

It's like the writer may as well have said "Well, to be honest - we know we messed up. Now let's all pretend we have Alzhimers and pretend series 7 didn't exist. And get back to normal.

"Here's Johnny shoving his face into Janet's tits."

As I'm sure from this little extract, you'll want to see what you've been missing. And luckily, thanks to the BBC being absoloutley damn well fantastic (Aren't they though?) you haven't missed it.

If you haven't watched it already, get onto the iPlayer now. It's here.

In other news, you can now comment on my blogs. Anyone who was waiting for this feature can thank Andy Kings - who gets a mention when there haven't been any comments. Don't let love for him stop you from spewing forth onto my page though. In fact, if you're going to spew anywhere, I'd prefer it were here.

Shopping at Tesco very rarely results in a feeling of a warm heart. But I was warmed when I saw this scene in the car park - Tesco trollies embracing and looking after 3 lonely, confused Kwik Save trollies, left over from the shop's former glory. How confused they must be and how sad they must feel having lost their hundreds of mates.

Yet, not allowed to rest in peace - their Tesco friends look after them. Awww.

Every little helps ;)

As you travel around a city on a bus, what else do you expect to see, heh?

So, having listened to the voice of my TomTom, affectionaly called Ken - as if Ken is the name of a streotypical Australian man - and it could be, I would know not how accurate this is - navigate me down roads which aren't roads, down passageways that have signs claiming that I will be hung from a lamp post and beaten with a dead copy of Mussolini if I enter it in a car rather than in a bus or a taxi or using my underused appendages to my legs, for almost 4.5 hours - I eventually managed to convince it to route me to the place I wanted to go.

Obviously, having found my desired location (the car park I wanted), I had to switch my TomTom off quickly in order to prevent it from barking further instructions at me - and I, as anyone who owns a navigation device will tell you, feel obliged to follow the instructions and drive to Swansea. Down roads that aren't roads, eventually becoming lodged in a very unfriendly looking local holding a sign saying "IGNORE YOUR SATNAV." Called Daffyd.

Having found my desired car park, I then set upon my next challenge of finding the hotel. A Premier Inn, none the less. Walking out of the car park, and attempting to do my best at ignoring the tramp sat on the floor I walked out and went "Oooh, that's purple!".

And I was there. Aside from the 6 flights of stairs, 2 locked doors and foreign receptionist in the way of me getting into bed and sleeping.

Being in a Premier Inn though - there is a rather annoying element - other than the incredible amounts of purple they have.

They offer you breakfast every 24 minutes.

They say that it's great value and everything as it most certainly features lots of things you'll want to eat. And the scrambled egg does not look like it's made of polystyrene.

And most importantly, it's all you can eat.

So I have an overwhelming urge to take hundreds of croissants and then place them in inappropriate places on my body, just so that I can claim I have got my money's worth.

I must go, because there's some butter somewhere it shouldn't be, and it's melting.

Good day.
Nx

So Mr Kingzy demanded that I blogged a little bit more than I do at the moment. And it's a fair point. I probably should.

But the thing is. It takes time to write a blog. In fact, it takes time to do my blog routine. Which as regular readers will be aware is the process where I open up the content management system. Then think "something's wrong," before going to make myself a cup of coffee. Upon my return, I've forgotten what I was going to write, and then end up rambling for the first few lines in something which can only be described as drivel while I try to remember what my blog was about.

Aha.

So I've decided I'm going to write a book. You might have noticed that in one of my previous posts I talked about the only way to become succesful without going to university is to write a book about how you became successful without going to university. But I've decided to do something which is in fact bucking that trend, while following it.

I'm going to go to university (if I decide to, that is) and then write a book about having not gone for a year, and then gone for three. But only being successful because of the book I've written about being successful by not going to university and then going. Confused? I am.

But this seems to be my idea of heaven. I'll get to not go to uni. Go to uni. And pay for it all using a book about how I managed to not go and go all at the same time while having a book about not going and going, making me a success.

Ok, now I'm completely lost.

Anyone at all following and think that sounds like something that has some sense in it?

I'm not sure.

Nic x

So I've had a bit of a weekend from hell at work. What with rude customers as ever doing their bit, and a dishwasher deciding to show me Error 25.



Error 25 apparently means "a bit of me has fallen off".

So I've been hand washing everything, and serving many things in take out cups. The fun bit of all this, though, is explaining to the customers what's happened and what is going to happen to them as a result of it. Probably food poisoning in the case of those who insisted on having real cups which had been washed by hand by my goodself.

It wasn't a good start that I had one member of staff with basically a broken hand, and another member of staff who puffs up and goes red when she comes into contact with one of the chemicals we use to make things go all clean.

"Just to let you know our dishwasher is broke, so is it ok if we put your drinks in take out cups?"

It wasn't me speaking. I was on the coffee machine. I mean, not physically on it. But that's what I was using. I wondered over to get a tray, and Lou, who was on till, but also not actually on the till, she was kind of in front and to the right a bit, whispered something to me.

"Is it broke or broken?"

"Broken."

"Oh. Ok."

I had been wanting to correct her all morning. But I felt too bad about doing it. Because I unlike others, are not rude.

Good day to you all!
Nx