At the risk of sounding like a spluttering old bufoon, I have to say I am outraged at the news that the burglar who was shot by his victim, has won the right to sue for damages.
I have no sympathy with the victim, Tony Martin, as he comes across as quite unpleasant and dangerous himself. This twerp of a burglar though, needs to stop crying and accept some responsibility.
The little shit should grow up and be a man. Actions have consequences. If you are big enough and ugly enough to commit crime you should be big enough and ugly to accept the consequences, that includes having harm done to you if caught by the victim.
What a little wanker.

Cardiff is famous for its Clarks pies, God knows why because they are crap, this guide to buying and eating one, however, is priceless.
The first time I tried to buy one, just after moving to Cardiff in a chip shop on Albany Rd in Roath, was a disaster and I ended up with a piece of cod. It must have been my accent. Clarks pie and chips I said, and waited. I saw her put a piece of cod on the paper and asked if it was for me. Yes she said. I don't want fish, I said, I want a CLARKS PIE!. Thats what you have got she said........A LARGE COD. We repeated this mantra to each other about 5 times before I settled for the cod.

Just got back from Cardiff. Scoffed well at Topo Gigio, and drank very well there and in several other places. Saw Cerys Matthews. Wasn't all that good, wasn't bad, but not blow your socks off good. Still, as evenings go, with your Mrs, it was bleeding marvelous.
Topo Gigio is one of those trattoria type places that has pictures of the stars that have eat there all over the place, it has also got agreat big open front window effort with tables outside, so one can watch the world go buy and enjoy the hot, sultry, summer ambience. So, obviously the Mrs had the view. I had the photo. Michael Knighton and Ian Rush. It's a classy joint.

The guy who supported Cerys was a strange fish. I had hoped we had missed him going for the Italian and insisting on her having a puddding as I felt time spent in the bar would be more rewarding. As we entered she said she needed a piddle so more time wasted, I thought, then, when she emerged the guy said 2 minutes to showtime. Given the choice between watching me get even more pissed or watching the guy she chose the latter.
Frankly he was crap, Adam Green or somesuch. Self regarding yankee twerp. Avoid at all costs.

Cerys started as if she had never met her musicians before, it shows up what happens when you have a bunch of musicians rather than a band. They sorted it out though and by the 5th or 6th number sounded pretty tight. She looked beautiful in all her pregnant glory and despite her rock chick habits has a glorious voice and a winning personality.

Before we went I commented to Mrs Buddha it was going to be fucking homecoming, not a gig, full of Welsh mawkishness. She agreed and said she mentioned to her colleagues that she was worried I would hate it. Well, I wouldn't have, but it didnt apply. She ignored her past and didn't indulge in any Welsh girl banter even though large parts of the crowd were begging for it. Big Kudos to her for that, and for giving me and the Mrs the excuse for a brilliant, reaffirming night.

Cardiff has changed massively since I started breeding and stopped going out. Much better than Brum, and thats a phrase I thought I would never utter. Life is lived on the street, fantastic, they should pipe streetlife through the lamposts. Late on we went in a pub, the name of which I forget, on the end of Mill Lane. It's just a pub, nothing special, but will sell you,by the bottle, Faustino 5 and Berbera.