I’ve recently I have been listening to a lot of debates between religious people and atheists; I find them both Interesting and infuriating in equal amounts. They go back and forth finding holes in each other’s argument which to be honest isn’t too hard if you’re on team non-believer.

The thing that niggles me about what I hear, about as much as if an elephant stood on my cranium is the absolute certainty about the most uncertain things ever. The fact they have been let in on the cosmic secret of creation and if we’d only listen we too could bask in THEIR wonderful knowledge of truth.

Firstly I don’t believe in a God, not the man-made type anyway- a guy with great facial hair and flawless robes.  For me it seems like too much of a great excuse to control people and if you look back in history its undeniable that is exactly what man-made religion has done throughout time and still tries to do so now.

I suppose it gives some people that need such a thing guidelines, a set of rules to live by if you will and if you’re good come the end you get selected and bathe in the warm glow of heavenly love for eternity. If religion is your thing, if it’s what you’re aiming for then good for you, I hope it works out for you I really do, as long as you’re not pushing it on me then more power to you.

So I then listen to the other side of the argument that will land these non-believers in the fiery pits of none existent hell. When you listen to the Atheist argument, it doesn’t make much more sense. It laughs at the fool hardiness of religion and the people who invest their whole life in the stories of an old book that doesn’t even have any pictures in it, all because they believe they souls will ascend to a better place when they die.
Atheists often say Religion is only padding to soften the fall that awaits them. They’d have you believe in the cold, hard reality that we are all bags of soulless, dead worm food when we die. Their theory is that it was an ‘accident’ made out of nothing. Granted, I’m never going to be accused of being the sharpest knife in the drawer but I just don’t get how nothing suddenly becomes something. If you listen to this ‘theory’ long enough there will be a detailed explanation of how this came about and by the end of it you’ll realise all these sharp knifes don’t really know either.

It leaves me with the same feeling I had when listening to the religious lot. A feeling that they also don’t have a clue. I would find it so refreshing if just once, one of the parties would argue their point and at the end say of course, I don’t really know.

I’m not, not an atheist because I’m desperately trying to deny that I’m anything other than the fact I’m worm meat. Whilst that thought is undeniably unpleasant, I’m just not buying it.

Just because you find a million flaws in someone’s half assed views it doesn’t mean you automatically become right. It just means that person wrong and you have to be careful not to fall in to the same traps as the people you’re arguing against. In my eyes it’s just as bad. It’s the same trap of ignorance, just a different version of it.

So, it’s a case of chose your side. Who’s your team? Well religion does have more holes in it than a piece of faulty Swiss cheese but the explanation that it was all some giant accident which came from nothing strikes me as farfetched as well.

What if religion is just a load of made up stories, thought up by a man and his over active imagination with a bit of time on his hands to help you live your life right? To me religion is based on what can’t really be explained by words (even by a talented writer like myself😉

Maybe the people that find God find something, or experience something and just call it ‘God’ because that’s what they associate it with since it’s been shoved down their throats since birth.

I believe in ‘God’ but what does that mean? I don’t follow the bible or believe much of its contents. My god is different to your god. Who’s right? Who cares? More people than should do.

I guess what I’m trying to say in my convoluted clumsy way is that trying to put a label on the millions of unexplained things from solid things made up of atoms, which aren’t actually solid, or tilt your head, look upwards and label and explain all that, or maybe have a nibble on that mushroom at the end of the garden and explain the intense, over powering feeling of oneness with the universe you feel and then label all this stuff…then put it in the ‘figured out’ pile.

Maybe religion was just trying to capsulize all of these unexplainable things in an easy to read format, but then didn’t do the best job of the whole process and to make it worse it then got hijacked by human nature.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a ‘cage fighter’ that has taken too many shots to the head (in fact, that bit’s definitely true) but I think that’s the point. . More people should be saying I don’t know, because basically we don’t. The only thing I know for sure is that no one, least of all me, knows what’s what… it’s all guess work. When it comes down to the big questions like how did we get here and why?

One of my favourite quotes is

“run away for the man who claims to have found enlightenment, but follow the man who seeks it”

NO ONE KNOWS and that’s ok, in fact personally I like it like this way. I think it’s great to look for the answers just don’t get frustrated if when you find the answer it opens a door the answer leads to a thousand other unopened doors. Life is the game that maybe, just maybe, hasn’t got an answers or one that we’ll ever know for sure. As humans I think we find this hard to stomach, in our arrogance we believe we should, do or will know everything.

What’s the point of winning the lottery to then constantly question why you’ve won? Enjoy it for what it is and remember no one knows for sure what it’s all about. It’s down to you to decide, no one can tell you how it is. Maybe you’re reading this and saying I KNOW, I JUST KNOW. If that’s the case then good for you, but respect we are all on our own ride, alone but at the same time together.

In the words of the late great a Hunter S Thompson

“Buy the ticket, take the ride…”

Your ticket been purchased for you, you lucky devil. Question, who bought it for you, why not? But don’t get caught up in trying to make everyone see it your way and above all else… enjoy the ride!



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Please note, the thoughts and opinions posted here are solely those of the author and do not represent those of anything linked or related. All content provided on this Colossalconcerns.com blog is for entertainment purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. The owner of ColossalConcerns.com blog will not be liable for any errors or omissions in this information nor for the availability of this information. The owner will not be liable for any losses, injuries, or damages from the display or use of this information.

Colossalconcerns.com is NOT the owner of any videos that are found or embedded on this site. ALL VIDEOS on colossalconcerns.com are hosted by third party sites such as You Tube, Daily Motion, Novamov, Vimeo etc. Therefore all videos found on this site belong to their respective owners. Colossalconcerns.com DOES NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF ANY AND ALL VIDEOS FOUND ON THIS SITE


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Equality blog PERSONAL 6

Right out of the gate, the Colossus drops a bomb of knowledge–we are not all created the same. Everyone knows this. It’s as plain as the perfectly sculpted nose on my face. Everyone is good at different things, which is perfect, as it’s the way it’s meant to be. No one will argue with this as how could they? In any nursery school, one of the first lessons you will learn is that we are all special and unique in different ways.

Imagine how boring life would be if we were the same.

So then, why is it that, even though practically everyone you talk to will nod in agreement with this simple, true statement, we seem to be getting further and further away from this in our daily lives. “How so?” I hear you ask. Well, it seems to me–actually, strike that, it’s a cold hard fact–that more and more people want to do more and more things that they’re not actually capable of.

Who am I to say what anyone is capable of? And that’s the thing! Who is *anyone* to say what anyone else is capable of? No one can make that call, and no one should, because we’re all different, from person to person.

So where does that leave us? Well, it leaves us with this: what happens when people can’t physically do what is required by a given job? A job that they want to do and one that a lot of people think that no one should tell anyone that they CAN’T do.
What’s the answer for that one? Well, stop panicking and don’t worry, because I’ve figured it out. Maybe it’s because the answer is so simple.

Simply follow these steps.

First, look at the job task at hand. See what it requires to do it well. Set guidelines, and look to see who can complete those guidelines in the best, most effective way. Whoever it is, no matter what the colour, creed, religion, or sex–the person who can do it best gets the job….Simple, right? It should be, but more and more this isn’t the case.

Let’s take the fire services as an example. No doubt, that’s a very dangerous job. I have a few friends that work as a fireman. Now, when I talked to them about what it takes to get into the services, about what test you needed to take, etc., they told me that unless you’re a black disabled lesbian Muslim with learning difficulties, you shouldn’t bother applying.

Now, I don’t know about you, but in a job like the fire service, I want the best person for the job. I want it even more if my house is on fire and I’m stuck on the top floor, like anyone would. So we have tests–and that’s what it should be, a TEST, and whoever gets the highest marks… should be in, simple as that. We shouldn’t have positive discrimination (I hate that phrase, too, by the way. What a load of bollocks. How can discrimination in any sense be positive? What bullshit.). Why? Because it’s dangerous! And even if it’s not dangerous, the company and services will suffer if you don’t have the best people for the job. If my house is on fire, and my family and I are trapped on the floor, and a fire engine pulls up, and 10 black disabled lesbian Muslims with learning difficulties get out, and they’re the best people for the job, then great! I’m happy, because I have the best chance of getting saved. And that’s what it should be all about.

I think that if you want to do it, and you are able to do it, no one should stop you, and if anyone tries then you should just march right over them.

But sometimes, there’s a world of difference between wanting to do something and actually being able to do it. This is what we’re getting away from–who can actually do the job at hand in the best way. Now, we have a selection of people from all walks of life, so no one feels left out. If we keep doing it that way, I’ll be on fire and I’ll have no house. I don’t get why it’s so hard for people to understand this. I think it’s because the government has to be seen caring and have everyone’s best interests at heart, so no one is left out. So what happens is that they lose touch of the principle of the best person for the job. And now, it becomes the best people for the job, and the best people for the job are three women, two Asians, a deaf person, and a man with no legs. All bases are covered; no one’s left out, great! The only downside is that we’re all burnt alive. All of the important jobs like fire services, police, etc., are run by the government, so they’re the first to suffer this idiocy.

But it’s happening more and more, too, in everyday life. In my other blog, Colossal Concerns, I wrote about WMMA, championing the cause because simply because I like MMA–it doesn’t matter who’s doing it. If some massive bearded freak of a woman (I get flashes of some of my exes) came into the sport and started smashing everyone in the women’s divisions, beating all comers, reined at the very top forever, and wanted to compete in the men’s divisions, I would say that it’s your body; your decision is what you do. I can’t take that away from you, and no one should. Crack on. This hasn’t happened, with the nature of MMA, and what with the way nature is as a whole, I can’t see it happening, either. But MMA hasn’t been around that long and stranger things have happened.

So let’s take boxing or tennis–it hasn’t really happened there, either. The simple fact is that the men on the whole are physically stronger than the woman. That’s not to say that it couldn’t happen, and if it did we should be open to it. There has been a sanctioned male vs. female bout, but it was such a joke that we can’t be bothered going into it.

So there we are. Jobs, sports, and anything you can think of should have a test. If you pass the test and you’re the best person for the job, then great, the job is yours. This has to be the most important factor, and we can never lose sight of this. If you can’t pass the test, its okay, you can either keep trying or realize that we’re all different, and maybe your talents lie somewhere else. But let’s not try and crowbar people who aren’t the best at something into the job so we can say, oh, look how diverse and open-minded we are, we have deaf people taking calls for our emergency services, we’re so progressive.

White men banned from recruitment article:


Below is a video of an NFL try-out. How the woman even got this far is embarrassing and does no favours for women who can kick.

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Please note, the thoughts and opinions posted here are solely those of the author and do not represent those of anything linked or related. All content provided on this Colossalconcerns.com blog is for entertainment purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. The owner of ColossalConcerns.com blog will not be liable for any errors or omissions in this information nor for the availability of this information. The owner will not be liable for any losses, injuries, or damages from the display or use of this information.

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So, what’s this all about? What’s Meggings? Why, as men, should we be against them? Well first off, Meggings are the male version of leggings.

As far as I can see they’re exactly the same as the ladies legging but the marketing geniuses have come up with a clever ploy to hood-wink all you confused males out there that could possibly wear these things!

They simply changed the L in leggings for an M, thus making them manlier. BRILLIANT! Argggghhh…. I can’t fucking take it anymore, what’s happening? Is it me? Am I just an ageing, out of date fool that should just shut up and watch as males are turned in to females in front of my very eyes?

The Meggings are a symbol. They’re a line in the sand. We, as men, have to say no more, it’s not happening! We’re not going to fall for it…NO!!!!

Now please don’t get me wrong, I’m very open minded. People can and should be able to do whatever they want. BUT, I don’t think males really want to wear this shit.

The gay men of the fashion industry have a plan, a cunning plan. They are trying to turn us into them. Now I don’t care if your gay (crack on fellas) this is not a gay nor sexual thing. This is a ‘clothing issue thing’ that needs to be addressed.

Boys, men, males need to know that you don’t need to follow these insanely feminine fashion rules. It’s ok to embrace your manliness as let’s not forget you are one (a male) beneath your guy liner and layers of foundation

to the ‘victims’ of this, please, I’m not having a go at you. I’m not disrespecting you. I’m surprisingly doing the opposite and I really do respect you, I do. Why? You might ask.

Because you will go to extremes, that I wouldn’t have gone to, to get laid. So hats off to you. This leads me next to my next point: woman you’re not helping here. You’re rewarding this burning of manliness by giving these guys the manliest thing around… YOU!

You need to open your eyes and think, does ‘this’ look good or does this a poor, confused, lost soul look silly. And guys, for all the things the girls are good at, when it comes to fashion the ladies are victims, don’t let them drag you down.

Look, I think if you want to wear Meggings, skinny jeans, blouses, skirts, high heels then whatever. This is directed at the men who don’t want to, but feel like they have to fit in.

No more I Say! I’m a Men-insist (Men-Insist = like feminist but male, we also don’t shave and we like girls too😉 and you my brothers are not alone. The Colossus has your back.


Fight the good fight by liking my Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/pages/MAM-MenAgainstMeggings/315092141927549?ref=hl

Have a watch of the video below and see me fire the first shot against Meggings and men’s fashion!
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Thanks for reading my blog, please remember to ‘follow’ it for updates as to when the next one is posted before it hits the social media platforms.

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Please note, the thoughts and opinions posted here are solely those of the author and do not represent those of anything linked or related. All content provided on this Colossalconcerns.com blog is for entertainment purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. The video contained on this blog post belongs to the author.


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When drugs are mentioned what image does it conjure up in your mind? Al Pacino, with his head buried in a face full of coke with his “little friend “close by his side? A hippie stoner smoking to “pacify” and becoming at one with the sofa? Or maybe it’s a massive professional wrestler with a needle filled with a strange substance, meant for a horse, jabbing it in his overly muscled buttocks. Maybe it’s the single mum of three who needs her little blue pills to get through her day–to quote the Rolling Stones, “mother’s little helper.” Point being, all of these things are DRUGS, and they have different levels of acceptance by the eternally wise public.

Now, the debate is so wide, so vast, so all encompassing and filled with emotions that it’s hard to know where to begin. If I start going through these drugs one by one, this blog would take forever. So I’ll talk about why the War on Drugs has failed, and why there is a whole industry built on it doing just that, from private prisons to the cages someone has to make to store these reckless humans. Or, to quote Joe Rogan, “if you were stranded on an island with one other person and that person said to you ‘if you smoke/eat that plant you’d be put in a cage, you would think that person was mad and would stay away from them”.

This example obviously oversimplifies the issue, but essentially it’s true. There are so many other starting points–I’m sure the well-informed amongst you will point them out. The point is that, well, there are so many points. I’m just going to tell you what I think, and you can agree or disagree. All I ask is that, instead of picking a side, you really try and boil it down to what is realistic, what actually happens in the real world, and from that point of view, we might be able to change something for the better.

So, what do I think? Make all drugs legal apart from meth. I’m not sure about crack either. Making it purer would make it more addictive and making it more readily available would only exasperate the problem when it came to Meth & crack, especially here in the UK.

You might say, “what about heroin? That’s massively addictive and fucks lives up.” I would say this is true, BUT let’s look into this. Pure heroin is so much better for you than what you’ll get from a drug dealer. Why? Because drug dealers are not the most honest of people and will cut your drug of choice for profit.

I watched a BBC documentary many years ago. In it, a government experiment gave an addict pure heroin. The addict looked better, held down a full time job, and functioned well. Does that mean heroin should be one of your five-a-day? No, of course not. But it would be better if addicts got their heroin from the government clean, which would then help stop so many billion pounds worth of crime, so you’re saving money due to fewer police and generally lower crime. It would also take the power out of the drug dealers/gangsters hands. The knock on effect goes as far back as farmers in Afghanistan not being forced to grow heroin for cheap labour.

If I see a drug addict, I see a zombie. Life has been turned into a depressing waiting room where there simply waiting to die. All the while they’re robbing/stealing/begging anything to get their next fix. You don’t need to go and see lord of the rings to see a strange creature obsessed with “the ring”. Just go and have a look around your town centre where there will be, sadly, hundreds of Gollum’s. These PEOPLE NEED HELP! Yeah, I know, they drain society and why should you pay for their drugs? Well, you should pay for the simple reason that it will help them get better, and it’s a lot more likely to stop your house from getting robbed.

A massive percentage of heroin users–I forget the percentage–were abused. Not everyone has the same chances in life. Some people get a shit hand dealt to them, and this is not me being a bleeding-heart, but rather than ignore the problem we need to face it head on. If they want heroin they’d have to come to a centre where they’d take it which would help keep them and their needles off the streets, plus there would be a councillor onsite offering help. “Even more money being spent on the druggies” I hear you say. Yes, that would also cost a lot. We’d get the rest of the money from the legalization of drugs.

Now, here are some of the rules I would have:

1. No advertising or making drugs look cool.

2. Packaging would be plain, with the effects of drugs clearly marked.

3. When you get your drugs, you would see a shaman/council who would advise you on it.

4. 30% (more if needed) or more of the money would go to people with drug problems.

Please, please understand that I’m not saying drugs are good. I’m not saying that at all, just like I’m not saying that chocolate is bad. With a lot of substances, it’s the issues you deal with that make you overeat or plunge a needle into a vein. If you think prohibition works against people, you have no idea about human nature or history. IT DOES’NT WORK. I could go on about socially acceptable drugs like cigarettes, alcohol, etc. but what’s the point if the acts are theirs for all to see? Just open your eyes and look, really look at what’s happening. If heroin is legal, would you go out and shoot up? No, of course not…but your kids might.

Ok, let’s look at this- I have a 14-year-old daughter. The thought of her doing anything like this chills my blood as it should. So how do I stop her? Do I tell her she can’t do it? Well I can, but if she wanted to she could always get it, just like if it was legal, only she’d be getting the dirty cut stuff. And if you took my route, there would be a trained councillor to help her as she’d have to get her legal drugs from a special drugs clinic. What a good Dad I am- I only want the best heroin for my little girl.

The only way to stop people from making bad choices is to give them correct information. Will everyone make the right choice? No, never, but you have a safety net to help catch the ones who don’t. Plus, you’re using the money that drugs make to help people that are ADDICTED to those same drugs. The drugs are clean, so there are less health risks.

You take the money out of the criminals’ pockets or we carry on pretending that the War on Drugs is just, as more and more people suffer. Once you take a look at the REAL issues and stop living in this black and white fairy tale of THIS IS GOOD or THIS IS BAD, then we can get our teeth into the issues at hand.

Another phrase that really does my head in, while we’re on the topic: gateway drug. You often hear that “weed is a gateway drug.” What does this mean? The people who try pot will try other things? Doesn’t that make alcohol a gateway drug, too? What about shampoo? People who take hard drugs have used shampoo before–that’s a fact. I tell what a gateway drug is. A gateway drug is a drug dealer who people are forced to go to get drugs, and, when they get there, the drug dealer says he is out of pills, but here is a good powder you should try, which is cut with God knows what. If we do it my way, if said young adult went to get coke, they’d have advisors, they’d have to back up and consider the decision, and if they still wanted clean coke, they could get it, which is far, far less dangerous.

All I’m saying is that let’s look at what really happens, not what we would like to happen. We can tackle the problems of what’s really happening. We need to stop pretending and start acting like adults. Get educated on the subject and guess what? All of the sudden, it isn’t as frightening. All the people out there who are against drugs ruining lives, all the people who have had their lives ruined and torn to shreds- I’m here with you, I really am. The only way to try and halt this is to help people, not lock them up. But then, when there’s an industry based on locking people up, we hit a big problem, which can’t be solved until people open their eyes and see what’s really going on.

It’s not a case of right or wrong. It’s simply where we’re at now and how we best face it. If you take away the emotion of the situation, you see that drugs have been around for as long as man has, and they’ve always been taken or abused, in one form or another. This isn’t going to change, but the way we handle the situation can. And, in time, it will.


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Self Awareness – Bad Liars & Boring People (& the end of the world)

Now, these two types of people are different in some ways but at their core they are very similar. I’ll explain…

When it comes to the bad liar variety you can have someone tell you a terrible, badly thought out lie and in them doing this you can find it, them and the whole experience mind-numbingly boring and maddening.

In the boring guys case, you could have one of these (boring guy) telling you the inner workings of ‘simulation theory’ whilst you nearly fall asleep mid-way through their intelligent waffle, whereas on the other hand someone else (not you) would appreciate listening to this bomb-blast of knowledge that you’re being subjected to.
The person telling you just isn’t aware of whether you’re interested in what they are saying or not, as the case may be, or they don’t care as they find it so interesting themselves, how could anyone else not!

The common factor in these two types of story tellers is self-awareness, or rather the lack of it.

I find bad liars incredibly annoying and insulting because they’re expecting me to be so stupid that I believe their poorly thought-out bullshit.

I remember an example of this back when I was at Higgenshaw college in good old Oldham UK. There was a bloke, I don’t recall his name (which is just as well as I am about to call him a bad lair), but I can sadly remember in detail one of many conversion I had with him.

It went like this;

Morning Billy ( let’s call him that😉 you good?

“Narrr not too good mate” rubbing and shaking his head in an anguished fashion

“Why’s that pal?” I asked in a loving caring manner

Well I got hit with a golf club, nine iron (specific details) straight to the back of the head” he turned round and just pointed to a perfectly normal looking part of his head.

Billy then went into a whole diatribe, actions included, about how he got hit, the immense force that the golf club struck him with, and how it couldn’t knock him out. As I watched Billy, I started getting mad. I was thinking ‘wow, you think I’m stupid’ but then I realised he almost BELIVED IT HIMSELF. I started finding it Interesting as I looked at the person before me who, to a certain degree, had to be mentally ill.

Instead of getting mad, I tried to figure out (to no avail) how many times does it take to tell the same story before you start to believe it? What must it be like to live in this bubble of make believe.

Basically what I’m trying to get at is that although the person talking passionately and at great lengths to you might be Interesting to someone, and the bad liar telling his bad lies might also be Interesting to someone, (although probably less) it’s this lack of self-awareness that is a massive factor in both spectrums.

Self-awareness is something that seems to be lacking more and more these days as reality and the made up seem to merge. Look at the reality TV shows we are now privy to in abundance. The people/actors in TOWIE (UK version of The Hills) don’t know even know if their acting anymore!

Although these types of show are scripted, the strings of the willing and docile wannabe puppets starring in them are being pulled by the wonderful T.V people.

The puppets have figured out that if they have a relationship with Z, the show would like and it would piss off Y, which will then get them more air time and will make for ‘GREAT’ TV (in some people’s eyes) and will make me into a bigger star and they’ll sell more units of their own fake tan.

You can see how it gets confusing as we blur the lines of what’s real and what’s not. Who decides when you can make, make-believe real?

Look at X factor, A factor B, C, and D factor. Of course some of these wailing no hopers have figured out that if they’re dreadful at singing then they can still steal their ’15minutes of fame’ and fair play to them for using what little they have and changing their realty.

It’s the people who don’t realise that I find most Interesting and disturbing.

(Stay with me now) This blending, mixing up of realities is the reason why, when something comes along like a virtual reality simulator, advertising a new reality – which is better than life as we now know it (see the book better than life by Grant Naylor) we’ll just plug right into it. Scary but I can see it happening easily.

I like my conspiracies. I find it interesting trying to determine where you draw the line on them.

Please have a read of my earlier blog on here “…….

Deciding where to draw the line is so hard. I know that there is a NWO and many off shoots groups to it. But what are the end goals of these groups??? It would make sense that the NWO would want to capitalise on a ‘growing way of life’. E.g., People becoming more dependent on technology.

I’ve just done an Internet search on ‘conspires, new world order and social media Internet’, and I got no specific search-term info back. I think that’s because the Internet is the most un-natural, natural things there is. It’s natural to want to connect with people but doing this via a computer is an un-natural way. One alleged motive for the NWO is to de populate the world as we’re becoming increasingly overcrowded, and the more people there are the less control the NWO would have over us all.. I’m not sure whether this theory is right or wrong but I do have to ask the question

Why would they bother killing everyone when the public will simply plug themselves in for a better reality?

Please remember to FOLLOW my blog for update on when a new one is posted, before I get it out on to the social networking platforms. Many thanks for reading and as always your comments are appreciated so get in touch and I’ll try and respond when I can. Follow me on Twitter https://twitter.com/JColossus  and like my facebook page http://en-gb.facebook.com/pages/James-The-Colossus-Thompson/199137513465142 where I post regularly & lastly my NEW YOUTUBE CHANNEL Colossal Collective. http://www.youtube.com/user/ColossalCollective

Thanks again








It was a Sunday and it was surreal, well that about covers it, thanks
for reading:)

Oh I’m such a joker! What am I like!?

Now, the start of the day wasn’t surreal at all. Maybe a little startling as someone was hammering on the door at around 10.30 am. This was only my third day of living at Wesley the ‘old owl king’ Murch’s gym, Olympians Mma, so I wasn’t sure if this was a regular occurrence.
The knocking was getting progressively louder as I tried to summons the energy to move something, anything, as I was still in bed! Once I removed my quilt the ice cold air that inhabits Olympians Mma jolted me into movement as the cold air attacks any exposed skin with a vengeance, which is always a good inspiration to move as quickly as possible.

My mattress was strategically placed towards the end of the mats near the edge of the cage, giving me a wide panoramic view of the squat rack and dip bar. It was all quite beautiful when you factor in the sunlight protruding though the windows.
The sound of the knocking broke my trance like state and upon getting to the door after my many fumbled attempts to, the backdrop of stifled disappointment emanated from behind the door.

I wasn’t greeted with the hideous yet familiar sight of the’ owl like one’ Wesley Murch but in his place were three attractive women and some bald headed tattooed bloke. This took all took me by surprise and I stood for a moment trying to compute who these people were and I was waiting for someone to speak. I got the impression they weren’t expecting me either.
One of the woman, who I later found out goes by the name of ‘Angel’ stepped through the door saying “is Wes about?”
The others followed her in. As the women filed passed me my first impression was that these don’t strike me as Wes friends. One, since they were female and attractive and two, they had no visible scarring or facial hair. As I turned back round after shutting the door the four strangers, which were now stood in a straight line back towards me, all had their gazes fixated on my mattress.

Yeah I know, it’s a bit strange, I’m living at the gym for the moment” It’s always hard to convey why I am living in a gym in just one sentence.

Oh right” Angel said, her tone faulting a bit

I was keen to know what they were doing here as they didn’t really strike me as ‘Mma types’. “You said something about Wes, outside”

Yeah, Wes said he’d be down to let us in” Angel said back.

To train!?!” I said in a bemused voice.

That’s one word for it I suppose” said Angel, while the other two girls laughed.

My face must have looked something like Stan Laurel having a stroke.

As I desperately tried to figure out what the fuck was going on the tattooed fella was delving into his large bag and fitting together some kind of black piping.

It’s freezing in here” Angel announced whilst patting herself down and introducing Sam and Louise.

I said hello and amazingly I still hadn’t the first clue about what the fuck was going on. These people had come into the gym and started setting something up.
Two of the girls wondered off over to the couches and started applying their makeup. The tattooed bloke, fitting together the framing, then went into his bag and produced a couple of dildos and a strap on. Now, I’ve been to a lot of gyms and seen a fair amount of things but I’d be lying if I said this didn’t throw me!

If you set the lighting up in the cage first Mark we’ll get a couple of stills next” Angel ordered.

Just before I had it confirmed what I thought was actually going on, Wes Murch (The Owl King) burst thought the doors “Sorry I’m late guys. Good, I see you’ve got in. Have you got everything you need?” Everyone carried on doing whatever it was they were doing as I pulled Wes to one side.

What the fuck, Wes

What? Didn’t I mention this, I’m sure I mentioned this” he fired back.

It suddenly dawned on me why they were all looking so shocked when I first let them into the gym. They must have seen me, then my mattress and thought I’d come prepared. Even brought my own fucking mattress to the party.

No you fucking didn’t. I know my memory is shit but this is something I’d definitely remember” I piped back.

Well I must have forgotten, what with the show last night and everything that was going on” said Wes.

Pretty much the whole of Olympians had gone to a knuckle up show in Weston Super Mare to support Guy Lewis, Tommy Cook and Matt Sellers who were all fighting on the card; they had all come away with great wins.

As we talked the lighting had all been set up. Angel was shouting out directions as Mark, who was introduced to me as Mark 69, was busy taking photos. Me and Wes were watching the pervious nights UFC in the reception area which over looked the cage. After about 10 minutes it was clear that me and Wes couldn’t give the UFC the correct analysis it deserved, so rather than hang around like the couple of giggling perverts we were and getting neck ache from craning our heads, we decided to give them a bit of space and let them do their ‘thing’ in peace.

Wes talked to Angel and she told him they’d be a couple of hours maximum, so off we went on our way as I grilled Wes about how you let something like this slip your mind.

We went and had an exciting day that consisted of going to B&Q, getting Wes’ car washed, doing his shopping as well as getting some food. By the time we’d finished we’d been gone easily 3hours. We made our way up the gym steps and almost thorough the door. We were stopped in our tracks by loud groaning reverberating throughout the gym. Both me and Wes froze on the spot and looked at each other. It was strange as we suddenly seemed to turn into two 15year old school boys, laughing and trying to push each other through the door first.
Once we braced and readied ourselves for the debauchery of what was taking place on the other side of the door we went in.
Upon entering Olympians the cage, where I’ve so often given and received punishment, was now a scene of a completely different type of punishment.
Me and Wes stood watching, mouths a gasp as Angel had one of the girls ‘doggy style’ while the young lady on the receiving end was chowing down on the other girl. It was all a bit much. Me and Wes suddenly went very ‘English’ by looking then turning away, then staring, then making our excuses to no one before sitting down at reception to finish watching the UFC. The girls and Mark69 paid no attention to the fact we were there, I’m not even sure they heard us enter the gym!


The UFC in question was Henderson vs. Diaz and I’d be lying if I said I paid much attention to the GnP that was happening in the fight and not in our very own cage. I suddenly remembered that I write a blog and that this whole episode was all too good an opportunity to pass up. So as the girls finished up I introduced myself again. I explained about my blog and my podcast and asked if they’d mind if I told the story.

Angel was as cool as can be and fine with me telling and writing this. By the time I’d rambled on about blogs and podcasts the girls had all got changed, so in the picture on this blog they are all fully clothed and I wasn’t brave enough to ask them to strip off again as Olympians gym is beyond cold.
All the girls asked for in return was a shout out and to check out their ’ award winning’ work at Angellongxxx.com

And since they’re all really good people give them a follow on twitter

Also don’t forgot to follow Wes the immortal Murch @WezMurch ( but he prefers to be called the Owl King though)

Now this was all a bit of a surreal story for me to tell on my blog and everyone involved was as nice as can be but it does have a more serious side and that is whilst Olympians gym isn’t exactly fitness first, when it comes to Mma it is a serious gym where all different kinds of people, of various levels, come to train.
Now, while it’s not any kind of big deal that porn was being filmed there as a one off, it is a shame that Wes is having to look to rent the gym out to anyone at all to make that bit of extra cash because he’s only just managing to keep the gym a float.

To me it’s a shame that with all the various, vast amounts of combat knowledge available at Olympians more people aren’t taking advantage of it. Everyone is more than professional (apart from Wes) and everyone is nice (also apart from Wes).
So people, listen up, if you’re in the Bristol area and looking to do a private session or an Mma class, wrestling, Ju Jitsu, boxing or just hit the weights and treadmills then Google ‘Olympians Bristol’, talk to the owl like one that goes by the name of Wesley ‘The Immortal’ Murch and you could be responsible for stopping our fully fledged descent into hell.

Please remember to FOLLOW my blog for update on when a new one is posted, before I get it out on to the social networking platforms. Many thanks for reading and as always your comments are appreciated so get in touch and I’ll try and respond when I can. Follow me on Twitter @jcolossus and like my facebook page http://en-gb.facebook.com/pages/James-The-Colossus-Thompson/199137513465142 where I post regularly. Thanks again



Where to draw the line?

Jesus, where to begin with this–and by “this,” I mean conspiracy. Here’s the major problem with conspiracies: in general, people hear the word and they switch off, whether it’s Elvis being alive and well and working in a fish and chip shop down my road, UFOs, 9/11, or UFOs being responsible for 9/11, etc. The general public will hear the word “conspiracy” and throw it all in the same retarded melting pot, which in itself is a conspiracy. I think conspiracies to the general public are like a mysterious, never-ending Subway sandwich that they have to consume. They’re not sure what’s in it or which end to start from, and they’ve already eaten. In other words, they just don’t have the stomach for it. With work, family, and life in general, there’s not a whole lot of time to look into who really shot JFK in Dallas–not when Dallas is on and you can see who really shot JR. I’m not like most people (family and friends tell me this all the time) in that I’ve never worked a 9 to 5 job. I make my living from MMA (cage fighting to the uninitiated), and, while listening to someone who makes their living from giving and receiving blows to the head might not sound like the best of ideas, it does give one advantage–time. My work is short and intense and physical, so there’s only so much hard training you can do. So when I’m not trying to figure out ways to physically disable a person, one of the ways I like to spend my time is looking at and into conspiracy theories. And one of the things I find is that the water is constantly being muddied with stupid shit, like that this is all the work of “them”–the shadowy puppeteers that pull the strings of world government from their shiny ivory towers. One thing I’ve never understood is that the problems of the world that “they” supposedly have created fall back on their own doorsteps. And who’s to say that those people aren’t stupid, that they are in fact the enlightened ones, and I’m just part of a mass herd of sheeple that are being lead to the salughter. Arggggghhh my head hurts, and I don’t think it’s because of the radio waves being sent from NWO headquarters to my fragile mind. Hence the title of this blog–where to draw the line?

This is a very personal thing, so here are a few bullet points I use:

* Keep an open mind: No, that doesn’t mean you leave the door to your brain way open and invite any crazy theory in to take up residents.

* Don’t get married to a theory: This I see not just in conspiracy but in life. Let me give you an example. I train and fight MMA (mixed martial arts). The best martial arts to learn are boxing and Thai for stand up, wrestling for keeping someone down (or keeping the fight standing), and Jujitsu for times when the fight hits the ground (arm lock, choke holds, etc.). Now, this is the best mixture of MMA at this time, and it works, so that’s what I learn. But if something new and better were to come along (can’t see this happening any time soon), I would learnthat I’m not married to any single martial arts discipline or group of disciplines. And I think it’s good if you apply this when looking at something so layered and complicated as  theories.

* It’s ok not to know the answer to everything: It’s natural to try and explain things. It’s what makes us human and keeps us evolving. But it’s also ok to say “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure.” Let me give you an example. I believe World Trade Center 7 was brought down by a controlled demolition. I believe this because I saw it with my own eyes. It fell at a free fall speed into its own footprint, and I don’t believe this was caused by a few office fires from being so close to the twin towers. When I say this, some people say, “Oh right, did they wire it up to blow before or after?” And I simply answer, “I don’t know.” They’ll say, “Well, isn’t that convenient?” And I always respond, “No, it’s quite the opposite actually. It’s really inconvenient.” Pretending you know the answer to a question only a few know the answer to doesn’t help at all. Which leads me to my next point:

* 2+2=4487: I know for a fact that false flag attacks happen. All you need to do is look back in history where it’s been admitted to, eg. the Gulf of Tonkin. I know for a fact that the United States government planned to attack certain cities of its own country and make it look like Cuba did it. There are declassified documents proving this. These are only a few examples. There is much more real information if you care to look. What does this mean? Well, it tells me that there are evil, evil people in the government that will do practically anything for power. What it doesn’t mean is that there is a world government controlled by a race of alien reptilian beings who live off the blood and negative emotions of human.

* You don’t have to be either a sheep or a nutjob: Joe Rogan says it best: people love teams, whether it’s Apple vs. Google or meat eater vs. vegetarians. We’re all guilty of it to a certain extent. I think it’s because it’s much easier and simpler once someone has been labeled. And when it comes to conspiracies, you’re either a sheep or sheeple (sheep and people), or you’re a nutjob. Simply put, I’m not either of these–I believe some aspects of conspiracy theories while I wholeheartedly disagree with others. I guess that makes me a nutty sheep.

* On people in the conspiracy world:

Alex Jones: Mr. Jones makes some good points and some interesting topics and some good free films, which are great to get people talking, discussing things. Whether you agree or disagree, it’s good to bounce things off of others. But even though I say all these good things, you should take them with a pinch of salt. Why? Because that’s his business. I’m not saying that I think he doesn’t believe in what he says–just that it pays for him to believe it because he’s in that business. I would like for him to say just once, “Actually, there’s probably nothing to this” or “Wow, we got that one wrong, folks.”

David Icke: I first heard of David Icke when a fellow conspiracy theorist described his theories as “a great, great bowl of punch filled with all these different  ingredients and exact measurements, and then, just before you’re about to have a glass, he takes a great big shit right in the punch bowl, and no one goes near it.” He was talking about Icke’s theory that the queen and various high poweered officials are actually really reptiles that came to this planet thousands of years ago. He was accusing him of being a disinformation agent and throwing the lizard thing into his theories to muddy the waters with all the good and on-point theories he brings up. It’s easy to see why he was accused of this, and this is what makes him so interesting to me. I believe that he believes in what he’s saying. I think Icke gets a lot of things right, butI also think he’s the ultimate case of 1+1=3849.

So there you have it. I’ve not shed any light on anything really. No groundbreaking, earth-shattering conclusion. Just common sense and an open mind. Anyway, I’m going to go now. I’ve got just enough time to watch the Kardashians before The X Factor comes on.




I was wondering which of the many topics I should delve into now that I’m free from the confines of writing strictly about mma. The one I have chosen didn’t spring to mind right away, which is strange as it is been something that has been on-going for six years, or so.
You are probably sat there reading this wondering what’s been happening for 6 years or so that I haven’t mentioned before and there really is no easy way to say this but I believe my cat is trying to kill me. There, I’ve said it.
Now, of course I’m writing this in a light hearted way but that doesn’t mean that the underlying issue isn’t true. Yes it’s funny that a three hundred plus pound MMA fighter (cage fighter) is scared of his cat, actually let’s not say scared as ‘scared’ is too strong a word, let’s go with ‘wary’. Before I justify my wariness for my cat, I feel that I need to explain who the protagonists are in all of this just so you get the clearest and most whole picture in your minds. So who are Me, you and Buggaloo?

So there is ME: James ‘The Colossus’ Thompson,

Now, when I say YOU in the title I obviously don’t mean you! That of course would be silly; I’m taking about my fiancée Graz Merlino aka the Merlean. In this case she goes by the name of you simply because it rhymes with Buggaloo and I like the title.

And then of course last but not least satins little helper, the one the only Buggaloo or if you know him well Bugs‘ but since you don’t know my cat, if you ever bump into him I suggest you address him by his proper name Buggaloo.

Like I said earlier, I write this in a light hearted way but I hasten to add if Buggaloo were to spontaneously grow in the middle of the night to the size of a lion then there is no doubt in my mind that the first thing he would do… is devour me.

Ironically, I was the architect of my own misery; in so much as it was my idea to buy Buggaloo for Merlean. I did so because I was going to start training away from home and I thought a cat would keep her company whilst I was on my travels.
I’m sure Merlean will thank me for making her sound like some lonely, isolated, hermit, devoid of any kind of attention or affection without me but that was my logic behind buying the cat. I mean it wasn’t like a cat would guard the house and keep her safe but the Merlean is a busy lady and a dog is too much ‘trouble’ to look after, where as a cat is pretty self-efficient and can go some way to filling the void I leave behind whilst training away (albeit only a cat shaped one)

So, I looked in the local paper, saw an advert and made my way to the address. When I got there an elderly lady greeted me. I explained why I was after a kitten and assured her I wouldn’t get sick of it and be making it go for a swim in a bag with a couple of bricks any time soon.
I approached the large cardboard box where the kittens were housed to pick out a feline friend for the Merlean. The choice was a simple one because as soon as one of the mini felines locked his little eyes on me he started yelping. He made a bee line straight for me and started pawing at me and so my choice was made.
“I’ll take this jet black one” I said as I mistakenly, mistook his spirited attack as playful affection… Hindsight’s a marvellous thing!

The lady didn’t want any money for him as he was only a moggy and she wanted rid of the litter. So I said my farewells and took the jet black bundle of life to his new owner. I was quite excited to show Merlean the surprise I had for her, my excitement was dampened somewhat when on seeing my purchase the Merlean’s exact words were “A cat, why the fuck have you bought me a cat?”

We named him Buggaloo, he did all the cat like things you’d expect a cat to do and the enthusiasm which had first greeted me was immediately transferred to the Merlean. They seem to bond as much as you can do with cats and it ensured the Merlean a promising career as one of those ‘crazy cat lady’s’.

When I try to trace back the signs that something might be a bit awry, Bugs must have been a couple of years old.

I’d not long returned from training aboard and me and the Merlean were on the couch cuddling up to watch a DVD when Buggaloo appeared. Rather than settle down next to us and be petted like most normal cats would, Buggaloo started to freak out and do that horrible hissing thing that cats do, at me. We laughed a bit at this and put it down to Buggaloo being unsure of me seeing I had been away from home for two months.
I got up to put the DVD on and when I returned to the sofa I couldn’t believe it but….. Bugs was in my place!

I went to move him out of my seat and he hissed and did that cat thing where they arch their back. Merlean, who was loving this display of protectiveness said to me between cackles of laughter “Fuck off while I watch the DVD with Bugs”.

I went off to fill up Bugs’ food and water tray and went back to the sofa….  Nothing… Just a steely, green eyed glare coming back at me. I reached for Bugs and he scratched me really bad on the forearm drawing blood. At this point I was pissed off and ready to take one of his nine lives away. Sensing this, Bugs decided to vacate the premises.

I showed the Merlean the scratches that had scarred me for life and wondered what could have gotten into him? He’d never been like this before and we’d had him almost two years. This wasn’t the first time I’d been away for a prolonged amount of time and Bugs was fine the last time I came back from my travels.

Anyway, after a few light hearted jokes about me frothing at the mouth and dying of rabies, we settled down to watch the DVD, it was Pineapple Express. Surprising that I remember the film really as even on a good day I sometimes struggle to remember my own name!

We were half way through the film, all relaxed, absorbed in the action, engrossed in the story line when out of nowhere a jet black ball of fur suddenly appeared from the ‘sky’ and landed on my torso. I was led down, sprawled all over Merlean in my standard ‘dvd watching position’ when this heinous attack occurred.

I don’t know what I thought it was attacking me from above but I know I shit myself by how quickly I moved. Anyone that knows me knows I’m not a fan of moving quickly.

I got to my feet in 0.3 second, which is surely my lifetimes best, as I was startled, shocked and wondering what the fuck was going on. Anyone that has been in an unfortunate position like this will tell you that if a cat lands on you and you’re rude enough to move quickly then they’ll respond by digging their claws into whatever they’re on, in this case it was a combination of my t- shirt and my flesh.

I lashed out (but missed) at the flying feline fiend as it released its claws from me and high tailed it out of there. On its escape from the crime scene Bugs shot me a ‘come and have a go if you think your hard enough’ look.

“Fucking hell” is all I said. I was in shock. I could tell Merlean was too because she wasn’t laughing like she normally does at my demise.

Bugs snuck back in, jumped up on the book shelves and from there he must have jumped onto the curtain rail, of all places, and then dive- bombed me in a suicide attempt of hatred.

I never actually saw Bugs fling himself around the room from one high surface to another like a ninja cat but this was the only way I figured he could have jumped on me as the bookshelves were too far away from the couch for him to make that ‘leap of fright’

My torso was now covered with a couple of nasty scratches and my t shirt, which was only a training one, was ruined. I had heart palpitations and all the blood had drained from my being and I was proper shaken up from the ordeal.

After about ten minutes I calmed down and we resumed with the film but I couldn’t fully emerge myself into it as I was constantly keeping an eye on the newly christened attack position that was the curtain rail. To Merlean this was a funny story to tell our friends, to me, looking back, it was much, MUCH more. For that was the first of many attacks that signified I was at war with our cat.

Now, Merlean will tell you I’m being ‘over dramatic’ but let me tell you of some of the things I’ve endured at the hands of this heartless beast and I’ll let you be the judge.

After the initial attack things went quiet. It was like Bugs had come out strong from the gate but was now weighing up his next move. Every now and then I’d notice him just watching me, motionless, from a distance. I don’t remember him doing this before the “DVD incident” I have now named Buggaloo Express

I pointed this out to Merlean on numerous occasions but I was always accused of being ‘silly’.

The next cat attack took me by surprise as I was expecting another physical attack like the one before but NO, Buggaloo wanted to switch things up somewhat and went out for mental warfare against me.

I came home from training one night and did my usual: eat, complain, watched TV while eating, eat some more, complain a bit more, and then sleep. I got up the next morning, got ready and went to put my trainers on only to find that Bugs had PUKED in them. Yep that’s right, you didn’t misread and I didn’t make an error, I said THEM. What got to me about this, other than my socks being covered with a foul smelling, chunky brown mixture of fuck knows what soaking through to my toes, was that it was in both trainers!!

Now, I don’t put both my trainers on at the same time, I put one foot in, felt the sick squish underfoot so checked the other trainer, but the point here is that I think Bugs being sick in both my trainers shows what kind of a cold, calculating mind we’re dealing with here.

This happened about three weeks after the Buggaloo Express  incident and other than the ‘creepy staring’ Buggaloo had been doing, all had been quiet. It occurred to me as I was washing out my trainers and changing my socks that the last incident was no isolated maul or freak one off attack but was part of Bugs’ master plan against me. It was now official, the game was on!

Over the years this has had a profound effect on my psyche. Every time I would leave my trainers out there was a 50/50 chance that there would be cat vomit for me to find when I went to put them on.

It’s caught me out countless times, and always in both fucking shoes. It’s got to the point that even if I’m away from home, I hide my trainers out of habit.

I’ve voiced this countless times on my Facebook and Twitter, but a few likes and 140 charterers doesn’t give me enough room to vent as you can see.

After the sick in the shoes incident I decided it wasn’t much of a war if only one side was being constantly bombed. I mean, so far Bugs had physically and mentally scarred me and I hadn’t returned fire.

At that moment it was 2-0 to my feline foe.

It posed an interesting question. How do you go about getting revenge on a cat? I mean, it’s not like I can kick the shit out of it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried but he is just too quick for me to get at.

I spent an unhealthy amount of time obsessing about this question but it got to the point where something had to be done. I had a ‘light bulb’ moment about what I should do and realised in order to exact any sort of revenge on Buggaloo, I needed to get him into the bathroom.

Getting Bugs to settle in one place was a hard task at the best of times, made even harder by the fact that we were now ‘war-ing’ parties and his cat senses could smell my revenge thoughts before I’d even thought them.

The only way I could think to trap him in the bathroom was to capture him while he was eating. When it was time for a feed he’d come and eat the food out the bowl like an impatient cretin that’s never been fed while you were doing that horrible job of squeezing the foul smelling food out of the packet. This greed feature ingrained in Buggaloo would let me capture him when he was next due to eat.

My plan all went like clockwork until I picked him up. He began freaking out, twisting and turning like a furry bar of soap with teeth and claws.

I didn’t get two steps before dropping him.

I decided that I was ill prepared and received nothing in the way of revenge, only more scratches.

I threw away the freshly squeezed cat food, the only one the miserable fucker will eat as it’s the most expensive one money can buy and he thinks he deserves it, and got changed.

I put on loads of heavy layers, Mari gold gloves, my cameo cargo pants, and just to get into character because I was at war, my head gear and Mma gloves. I found an old net curtain in the spare room to trap him and so I was set.

I waited and waited. I called out, I looked for him, I hid in the kitchen, I even left small morsels of cat treats around to tempt him out…. but nothing!….

Bugs had gone unground.

I must have waited for Bugs to come out for at least 3 hours when Merlean got home from work and found me dressed like a homeless Mma fighter armed with a fishing net (net curtain but to me it was a fishing net trap). She looked at me like I was a weirdo and simply said “You have far too much free time on your hands” I must confess she had a point.

So it was back to the drawing the board, until it occurred to me that I was making things harder than necessary. I didn’t have to capture him and take him to the bathroom, he’d come to me, of his own willing accord…. How?

Well, like all people that have the pleasure of owning cats will know all I’d have to do is clean his litter tray and he’d magically appear to use it. Cats are like that you see, they don’t give you any warning that they need the toilet, they can just shit on cue and that cue is normally as soon as you’ve changed their tray to fresh, clean litter. It doesn’t matter that you try and mix it up a bit by changing the litter on different days of the week, or at different times in the day as without fail my cats will soil their litter AS SOON AS IT’S CHANGED. The Merlean begs our cats to let her just have half a day when there isn’t cat mess in their litter trays.

I hardly ever changed the cat litter so unsurprisingly it took me a while to think of this as a way to entrap Buggaloo in the Bathroom.

It all went like clockwork. As soon as the sound of those lovely clean pieces of litter made their way to his pointed ears Bugs, like magic, appeared. I stayed calm, finished what I was doing and let him enter further into my trap…. then slammed the door shut.

We made eye contact while he was sitting in his freshly poured toilet, I smiled a menacing smile which came very naturally to me and if Bugs had had an Adams apple, he would have done one of those cartoons like gulps. He was mine and he knew it….

I chased him round the bathroom like a cat does a mouse (pun intended) enjoying the whole experience. Finally, I got him into the shower cubicle and closed the door. Bug’s was due for a ‘wash’ and I was more than happy to oblige, especially as I know he hates it.

I got on a chair, reached over the shower door to grab the shower hose and turned it on full blast. I’m not sure what this says about me as a person but blasting him with that shower water whilst he freaked out and ran round the vastly limited space, while I aimed the water and tried to pelt him with shampoo, was the single most enjoyable 20 minutes of my life.


Now, this blog story is getting rather long and I’ve not even got through half of the run-ins me and Bugs have had so I’m going to fast forward past the time he left a mouse on my pillow. I’m not going to delve on eerier times when I took the rubbish out and on my return to the back door the security lights came on and four of the local cats and Buggaloo were watching me, silently, as I made my way back inside, cautiously. Nothing happened on this occasion, not even a sound was made which made it all the spookier. I believe it was Bugs’ way of showing me he has back up if needs be.

I described this taking the rubbish out incident to Merlean and to this day she thinks I’m making it up, which drives me mad, but it did happen and I wasn’t asleep dreaming when it did!

All the things I’ve mentioned here on this blog are unpleasant, maybe a bit creepy, but in no way life threatening except for this last incident I’m going to mention.

We had bought a new washing machine and before we picked up the new one I had to get rid of the old one, which had broken.

We live in an apartment on the first floor, so there’s a steep flight of stairs to get up before you get to the kitchen area where the washer is housed. We’re talking a period property here, built in the early 1900’s where people had tiny feet and made the staircases almost vertical for some strange but stupid reason.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced lifting a washing machine before but if you haven’t then let me tell you they are VERY heavy! Merlean wanted me to get some ‘help’ lifting it this time (I carried our old washer up the stairs alone when we first moved in) as I was going down stairs to take the old one out.

I was about three weeks away from fighting the former world strongest man Mariuz Pudzianowski, for the second time, in a MMA fight and I couldn’t imagine that he would need any type of ‘help’ lifting a washing machine. In fact, he would probably lift one in each arm so I firmly told the Merlean that ‘I took it up the stairs so I could bring it back down’ so that’s what I did.

I rocked the washer a little so one side was off the floor, got my hands underneath it, bent down and slowly lifted it up.

It was so heavy I couldn’t bend my arms and I could only take little steps as the washer kept banging into my legs. It was the most awkward, heavy fuckin piece of household white goods I had ever lifted, made harder as there’s no other way to move one other than to pick it up as it’s too wide and heavy to wrap your arms around it. Washing machine in arms, I headed for the stairs.

I got to the foot of the stairs and began my slow but sure decent. I’d only got to about the third step when Merlean said “Watch Bugs!”
Eh” was my reply
Don’t step on him, he’s on the next step” she said in a panic that I might squash the cat.
“Is he? Well he’ll have a fucking washer on top on him in a minute” I was feeling for Bugs with my foot, which wasn’t helpful as my view was being blocked by the washer in my hands. I marginally made it to the next step without an incident. There was only another only 12 to go! I was about to take the next step when I heard an even more panicked “Watch Bugs” from Merlean.
I took the step and could feel Buggaloo’s warm fur pressed up against my ankle, I edged my way down and I heard the now familiar shriek “Watch Bugs!”
He’s following me” I shouted “the fucker’s trying to trip me up!”

I wasn’t even half way down and I was quickly losing my grip on the heavy object. I would have to turn a full 360 to rest it on the stairs to give myself a breather which is what I started doing as I could feel I was going to drop it otherwise. I started the delicate matter of turning around and could feel the ‘little shit’ under my feet. I hoofed Bug’s out the way as hard I could. He smacked against the wall before falling down a few more stairs and scampered off to safety.
James, what are you doing??” Merlean screamed at me.

I was half twisted on a narrow staircase with what felt like a ton of weight slowly slipping from my sweaty palms but I suddenly found the energy to scream back something like
I’m trying not to fall victim to your fucking evil cat’s plan, it’s trying to fucking kill me
I managed to do a full turn and placed the lump of machinery on the stairs before It was too late.

What struck me about this episode was Buggaloo’s total disregard for his own furry neck as he not only try to trip me once but actually counting the attempts he took on my life that day, it was THREE TIMES. There is no doubt in my mind that the little fucker tried to kill me.

Me and Merlean both laugh about it now. Nothing brings a couple together more than one of their pets trying to assassinate the other one.

Everything I’ve written here is the truth. Merlean will say it’s over exaggerated somewhat, but it’s not the case.

If I ever go missing I want this blog and Buggaloo Examined and I want it used in evidence.

What I’m saying is, don’t bother looking for finger prints look for Paw Prints.

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