A little bit closer to home.

At this moment in time, as I am over 11000km away from my home, I often wonder about what's going on in my own four walls, and the person renting my property.

Two months ago, when I checked my bank, I noticed that I had received a half payment from my new tenant. "Odd..." I thought, but assumed the money was for something else (Long story, sold a Chesterfeild sofa), and I assumed that the first month was merely deposit (I couldn't remember because the previous tenant had moved in quite some time earlier).

Then the next month came, and it fell short of the target again, by roughly a fifth. Deciding that my landlord had taken care of the garden duties, I put it out of my mind.

So, upon checking the bank last week, I see that there is nothing. I decide to call up ol' blighty, and ask the landlord what the bleedin' 'ell is going on.

"It's the new tenant," she tells me. "First she said her son was stabbed in London (plausable), then her mother had a heart-bypass operation, then the daughter was supposed to pay, but went on holiday!"

Blood pounds in the ear drums. Who the fuck is in my house?

Really, I have no clue. Rest assured legal proceedings have began against the sponge.

Memories ...

Not so long ago, some believe the year ought double 06 (it was actually '07), I arranged to meet a friend of mine to visit the cinema. The cinema was a bust, as the movie we wanted to see had ended, and my friend was contacted by one of her friends who was in town for the weekend. Suggestions were made that the three of us could enjoy an evening of drink and conversation.

I was introduced to the young man, and together, jabbering away in rapid Spanish, we spoken of various cultural aspects of our respective countries. The night began well, as we picked through the meats of our cultural stew.

Later on, in what can only be described as 'ignoring common sense, in hindsight,' we began to walk through a part of town which I knew to avoid. It was close to summer, so at 4:30am, the sun was beginning to rise. In front of us was a huge black guy and his blonde arm accessory. My old friend and I walked past with no problem. The new addition, in some bizarre sense of drunkeness, laughed at something the blonde girl said, as he walked alongside her. His reward? A punch to the jaw, equal to the force of a heavyweight boxer.

I turned around, and noticing the young man lying on the floor, I tried to diffuse the situation with reasonable argument and common sense. Did it work? Sadly, no. The thing which angered me most of all, was the reaction of his girlfriend. When he hit the young man (I heard the sound of it, and I doubt I will ever be able to forget that particular sound), the girl who he was with, laughed like a jackass. During my attempt to calm the gawp, he tried to punch me, too (a blind man could have seen it coming), and doing my best to pick up the guy off the floor (and calm my other friend down), I felt ashamed that this happened in Liverpool.

The young man was days away to returning home, to the country where I am now. He had two teeth loose, his jaw swelled and he couldn't chew for a month. I wonder if his missus is even more worse off?

Juanita, ¿dondé está mi arma?

Latin America, "dangerous."

According to the BBC, a Brazilian research group says that Latin America has the highest murder rate between 15-24 year olds.

An unfair representation, I think. I have visited several countries in Latin America, living in one for over 13 months. There is no marauding gangs, here. There is no turf-war. Believe it or not, there is no drugs, and the police? There is no corruption.

Ten-year-old kids are not shot in the street as they walk back from football, and goths are not kicked and stamped to death as they walk through the park.

I have found the people to be friendly, and never I have been called something maliciously in the street.

There is no happy-slapping, EVERYBODY votes when the elections draw near, and I don't think I ever saw anyone drink in the street (Except in Rio, where everyone does it, including myself).

Yes, I live in one of the countries mentioned in the article, and yes, it is one of the "safer" countries. What am I nuts? But to say Latin America is dangerous, is equal to saying any city in the UK is not.

For the record, I live in the North of one of these counties. I will backtrack, and say there is not a great deal of drugs IN THIS COUNTRY. I know they are transported by a neighbouring country, but they are ALWAYS caught, (This particular country is the exception to the rule:drugs, corrupt police and political unstableness). But THIS country is great!

Rhys Jones "tragic victim of gangs."

No shit.

My feelings are that this could have been avoided, plain and simple. Had the police took notice of earlier incidents, they should have known that the events would lead to something more sinister, like the people of Norris Green and Croxteth knew.

After the death of Liam Smith(spawning at least 17 different shootings), should more attention have been put in these places?

17 shootings. 17, in these two areas.

Rhys Jones and I attended the same school, albeit with a difference of 17 years between us. I grew up, completed my education, worked and travelled, yet these opportunities were denied this young boy, because of a ridiculous grudge.

Gangs have always been a part of that area. I remember being accosted by one, when I was a teenager, and it's effect is emotionally scarring for many years. If the police will not stand up these people, will anyone?

Oh, the Police try. There is a decicated task force called Operation Matrix, but there seems to be more and more guns than ever.

Saying that, when you have to deal with this:



What can you do?

Los Jaivas Vs. N-Dubz.

I have a friend from Manchester who added The Artist Known As N-Dubz to his FaceBook, and, being interested in other cultures, I decided to take a look:



I literally wanted (and still do) to slap him around the chops and ask "what the shit are you playing at?" Skip to later on that day and from the corner of my eye, I peeped my own brother on MSN playing, yep, you guessed it: the very same cack.

But ignore me, I am a musical snob (and proud of it). I listen (and notice) to everything from Bach to Beck, except I can't enjoy much music nowadays. It's all electronic shite (Not the good electronic, either).

Tonight I went to a gig with several thousand other people, on the beach outside my apartment. Finally, I managed to see this band, and all a mere 5 minutes walk away.



Maybe it's not to your taste, but there is an honesty to it. (Sorry about the quality of the video, I couldn't get closer.) I'd favour this over fuckin' N-Dubz any day of the week.

PS: whilst walking along the beach to the gig, some teenagers were playing shit music (the latin equivalent of N-Dubz,) on their phone, mere yards away from where the concert was to take place. It's not just UK teenagers who are spastics.

Tazer fun!

I'm all for Police tasering chavs, in fact, I can't wait to watch weekly episodes on Road Wars.

Holiday fortnight.

This weekend I was horrified to discover that for a mere two days, George W. Bush and myself occupied the same country.

Now I have jumped over the border, taken a refreshing bath, and returned systems back to normal (For another 90 days, at least).