Friday, 10 July 2009

Life Rafts: Sponsored by the BNP

I've removed the video, as the owner was a racist idiot who decided to launch a verbal attack on me.

Yes, Nick Griffin has advocated murder. He says it isn't, but how he expects a family of four to "swim back to Libya" is beyond me. As a member of UAF (Unite Against Fascism), I am sternly against the BNP, National Front and any other extremist party. People think that UAF hate only the preachers of hatred towards Islam, but that is incorrect. The Muslims who protest at the return of British troops and those who preach hatred to British people are far worse than the BNP in my eyes and (excuse me if I sound like a hypocrite) but when in Rome, do as the Romans do! It's not a matter of race or religion; it's just polite. But I think the video speaks for itself, so onto my next topic.

SCHOOL IS FINISHED.
FOREVER.

No more of the cretins, ignoramuses et cetera (you can read the full list on my last post) that I have put on a brave face for for the last five years. It's finally gone; I wrote this chatting to someone on MSN when they asked me whether I was looking forward to going to Winstanley:

"Yes, Winstanley. I see it as this. Towards the end of school, I'd had enough. My year (and yours probably is too, sadly) is full of cretinous, moronic wasters. I put up with it and wore a brave face, and laughed along with them, chasing popularity. On finding my real friends, id est your lot, I decided not to react to the idiots any more, and chose to ignore them and not take any more crap. They didn’t like this, and decided to launch a torrent of “That Peter’s gay”, when in fact I was choosing to ignore the sadly vast majority of my year contributing to my eventual stress-related cardiac arrest. Luckily, by finishing Year 11, I can wash my hands of them, and start again knowing my base and being able to be myself. So yes, I am looking forward to it."

And that, is honest. That basically explains how I handled myself throughout Year 11. I'd had enough. My experience at Standish High has completely diminished my faith in humanity, and it doesn't look like ever coming back. I know it sounds a bit BNP and maybe ignorant and naive, but I could easily point out people in my year and think: "I'll be paying for your dole soon". And it's true. I think I've done very well in my GCSEs, I'm going to college and almost certainly going to university, not to mention already being on the ladder of my career of choice (refereeing). The attitude nowadays with our politically correct schools is that everything will be handed to us on a silver platter. But instead of being this ignorant moron who believed all that, I witnessed the real world and realised that I had to work hard; so I did. And it's going to pay off. I may sound over ambitious and naive, but the truth is you only live once, and why the hell should I spend all of it being pessimistic and worrying about the future? I've chosen to work hard now and reap my rewards later. So there you go.

On a lighter note, Jason Scotland! Yay!

Thanks for reading,

The Famous Peter

Tuesday, 23 June 2009

Stig the Nazi

I was pleasantly surprised last Sunday night, learning the true identity of 'The Stig'. And, despite his xenophobic, ignorant and let's be honest, funny prejudice of Germans, Jeremy Clarkson seemed chuffed to see his identity revealed to the public. Of course it was all a show, Clarkson knew long before. And of course, it wasn't Schumacher all the time. But, we can sit back and accept that it was good telly. The episode itself as a whole was cracking, and the amount of scripted material was drastically reduced, removing the sometimes cringe-worthy moments of politically correct banter during the shows of the past two or three series. But this blog isn't about 'Top Gear'. Oh no. This blog is about me. And I am very close to being very happy.

After five years of putting up with the retards, the egotists, the morons, the ignoramuses, the daydreamers, the slackers, the whores, the bitches, the cretins and the odd good person, I am leaving school tomorrow. My final exam is at 9:15am and lasts forty minutes. I will be so happy to leave that hellhole. My fury erupted when I was verbally attacked by one Emma X., who decided it would be good to call me 'gay' (how original) over Facebook, despite the fact I have never lowered myself to talk to the cretin. But, soon it will all be gone. With the Leaver's Do on Thursday and the following after party hanging in the balance, I think I will wave the school goodbye with a rye smile on my face. I never rose to anyone, and I just observed. I have looked at people and thought that I will be paying for their dole in a few years. I have looked at people and guessed how many kids they will have by age 18. But it will all be gone very soon. Au revoir.

The Famous Peter

P.S.

Tuesday, 16 June 2009

Can Howard Webb Get Any Better?

Well, I announced that it was an eventful week just a few days ago, and my estimations have been blown out of the picture. For those of you who haven't seen it, go to about 5:40:

Oh, Howard.

I can understand the confusion, the Egyptian clutching his face when it has blatantly hit his arm, but Webb should not have been so hasty in the decision as soon as he saw the uproar in the penalty box from Brazil, especially as in the end he decided to overturn the decision. But, it's too late for that. He needs to book his ideas up; or he'll be the next Uriah Rennie.

But, the big news is the arrival of Roberto Martinez as Wigan Athletic manager. The perfect capture, in my opinion, and he could be the only man who could convince Luis Antonio Valencia to stay; but it's not very likely. If we can bring in Hendry Thomas, Djibril Cisse and Andres Iniesta I think we have a crack at qualifying for Europe. Probably. However, that's all the news I can bring you. I'm brainstorming a 'Charlie Bit Me' remake... but not as you think I will. And that really is it.

The Famous Peter

Sunday, 14 June 2009

New Zealand and Andorra Team Up For World Cup

Well, what a week for football. The world transfer record has been smashed in the space of around two days (and I know the Cristiano Ronaldo saga isn't finalised, but let's pretend it is), England, well, they completely battered Andorra, and a few minutes ago the final whistle went in a 5-0 serving to New Zealand by Spain.

Can you hear the drums Fernando?

Well, that's the most interesting thing that's happened in the real world, but now for my twisted story.

I headed in to Wigan town centre to meet up with some friends, only for my phone to go dead at the most convenient time, when I found the place we were meeting up was occupied by some dance troupe or something. I decided not to wander round aimlessly and decided it would be a good time to get my hair cut. Now this doesn't seem to complex, but I have mine cut if Affleck's in Manchester. A bit off the beaten track of hairdressing, but the bloke who works there always guaruntees a good chat. I head off on the train, iPod in hand, and for those of you who read my Twitter, the rest is history. But for those of you who didn't, prepare to facepalm. As I turned into the Arndale, I saw a stall offering free stress tests. Not too suspicious, you may think, but having the word 'Dianetics' put up in massive print caused a bit of... rucus. They were Scientologists, and with Scientologists, there is always 'Anonymous'. A group of protesters were spearheading what seemed a worldwide attack, and good on them. I do wholeheartedly oppose Scientology, and these drunkards were fighting a winning fight. So, I joined in for a while, and then headed again to Afflecks. After shaking off a drunk man asking for forty pence, I arrived. I had a nice chat, got a great new style and learnt where to get the cheapest drinks in Manchester. Vital info. I headed out, with the strict intention to get home, after I ate something. On my way to McDonalds, a stand caught my eye. 'Unite Against Fascism' it said. 'Stop the Nazi BNP' it said. "Ooh, that looks good" I said. I signed up, depositing my name, address, signature and phone number, all in the good name of anti-fascism. I carried on to Manchester Vic, as it was closer than Salford Central, where I intended to go (if this bores you, please bear with me, as the best is yet to come). I stood on platform five, where I always stand when going to Wigan, and saw a train approach. With 'This Charming Man' slowly destroying both my eardrums, I stepped on the train with 'Wigan' on the front. I lied back in my surprisingly comfy seat, and closed my eyes as Jamiroquai started to blare. After around half an hour, my eyes flustered as we passed Blackburn. Strange, I thought; this was never on my usual route. Still, I didn't worry. I worried when I passed Langho. I didn't know the place existed; how was it on the way to little Wigan? I removed my earphones just in time to hear: "Our next stop will be Clitheroe, where the train will terminate." Perfect. I had gone literally completely the wrong way. I got off the train, gurning in anger, and switched platforms. The train going the other way came in fifteen minutes, so I hopped on that. I realised it was the same train, just turned round, as did the driver, who glared at me. I ignored that. The conductor fell for the old "I'm just searching for my ticket" trick, and I got a free ride back to Manchester, getting off at Bolton. "Where are you? Tea is ready" a text from my mother read. "Just passed Bolton" I texted as I waited on the platform. It would be another ten minutes until the train came. Knowing my parent's poor correspondence to my texts, I also told them to head to Wallgate to pick me up. Unsurprisingly, when I got there, they arrived at the same time. I spared them the grief of my story, and just apologised for being so late.

And that was my weekend. It's now two minutes past ten, and my Dad is shouting at my brother to get off the XBOX. Back to normal! Now, with study leave, and the two remaining, and easiest exams coming up, I can look forward to four days of drinking beer in the garden, waiting for Physics on Friday. Yes, it sounds hard, but it really isn't. Back in the days of O Levels, maybe, but not now. Now it's multiple choice crap. Back of the net.

The Famous Peter

Saturday, 13 June 2009

The Days Are Ticking Away

A 'Late Night Post' today. Or early morning, judging by the quarter to one being shown on my clock. Either way, hello, and thanks for visiting The Famous Peter. A friendly greeting, as I am somewhat ecstatic. Why? Only two more exams, that's why. And the days left of school are merely ticking away.
That's the joy I'm feeling now. Not much has developed really on any other front, as revision has took a complete hold of my commitments; which brings me to my next point.
You all come here, (I hope) with the wish and patience that I will be churning out something new in the near future, yet I admit the only thing squeezing through my brain cervix as of late is a remake of an 'Old Skool Revisited'. So, for that, I apologise. But if you come here to know about the man, the legend, Peter Richards, prepare to be astounded.
Now, I don't look my best (you can thank Mr. John Smith for that) but I am pictured with my award for:

WIGAN REFEREE'S SOCIETY YOUNG REFEREE OF THE YEAR 2009

To put it modestly. From left to right: Keith Harris (Chairman of the Wigan Society), Eddie Wolstenholme (former Premier League referee, Head of Referee Development, Lancashire FA), Peter Richards (Young Referee of The Year 2009, Wigan), and Ian Blanchard (Head of Refereeing UK, The FA). Ian Blanchard. Ian Blanchard. And Eddie and Keith of course, but Ian Blanchard. Who better to receive it in front of? Top. I nearly shed a tear, but as such a figure of authority in being a referee, I opted to keep my pride (The urge to insert an emoticon is... killing me...). But I couldn't have done it without the support of all the other young lads there, peeps I'm proud to have as mates, in K, Olly, Marc, Ivory, Deano, Danny, Chadders (and if you can call him a young lad) TB. It's been a top season, and I'm really proud. I know I'm boasting, and I probably shouldn't, but I'm just so happy. It's spurred me on to apply for the West Lancs League as a linesman and referee, and the South Lancs League as a referee, whilst also sticking to my roots at the Youth League. And as the season's finished, here is the tally:

Wigan & District Youth Football League

Refereed in age groups: U12, U13, U14, U15
Refereed U12 Knockout Cup Semi-Final with Mr. Wynn and Mr. Ivory
Refereed U14 Knockout Cup Final with Mr. Wynn and Mr. Jones

Merseyside Schools Football League

Refereed in age groups: U11, U12, U13
Refereed Wigan vs Liverpool U13
Refereed League decider U11

Lancashire Football Association Knockout Cup Youth

Refereed U14 Quarter-Final
Assistant Referee on U12 Final at LFA to Mr. Jones

Honours

Young Referee of The Year 2009


All in all, a great year for football, but more specifically, me. Call me a narcissist, fine, but I'm proud of myself, and I know I couldn't have done it without help from everyone at the society. There are too many names too list, so if I've left you out, feel free to spam me with abuse. That was a joke. A joke. Thanks for reading, and goodbye!

The Famous Peter