Is it Nightclub or Knightclub or even Niteclub?

James Blunt
has a song called "You're Beautiful"
Ironic eh

I'm so tired.

Tired of listening to gossip, gossip and complaints.*

What?

I mean I'm really freaking busted. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you I'm down to about 5 hours sleep or less a day. For a man who, under normal circumstances, rarely sees 11AM I can tell you these are difficult times. I nearly fell asleep at work tonight. I wouldn't mind but it was busy.

Wet Blanket Extraordinaire, James Blunt, was playing nearby and the sort of people who own Coldplay CD's and consider Norah Jones to be talented were out for pre-concert dinner. The restaurant oozed wetness. I bet they thought it was a good idea to get the tickets 6 months ago but now with only an hour or two to go before curtain up the full horror of what awaited them was hurtling towards them like a bus full of kids driven by a drunk blind man. It was no coincidence that I was shifting wine and beer at a rate on knots.

James Blunt makes me want to vomit. His song titles are just so sickly sweet they should come with a recommended daily amount, "You're Beautiful" "Chocolate" "I really want you" "Sugar Coated".

Sugar Coated? What? He's not even fucking trying there. Cunt. His next album will probably be called,

"I'm so very sad and alone without you... James Blunt sings songs about Dead Girlfriends, Dead Bunnies, Clouds that remind him off you, and Special Babies that overcame insurmountable obstacles."

Mark my words....

I get grouchy when I'm tired. I had a very grouchy weekend. It was busy, bend over and take it busy. Which was good and it went damn well. Friday was payday for what seemed like everybody in Belfast. People went bonkers, the threat of world wide recession hasn't arrived here yet. Or if it has well then nobody here seems to be worried......yet. People were tipping like a French Rogue Trader. Which was nice....

But it was a hard weekend. I had lost all ability to be nice/competent by about 8pm on Sunday night. I felt sorry for the cute Belgian couple who had the honour of getting served by bizarro world Manuel. He is the opposite of regular Manuel, not so nice, not so amusing, not so good at his job. They were Belgian, I'm sure they never noticed......

But the weekend did throw up two stories that just say everything about Belfast....

Firstly there was the story of the man who got refused entry into a Belfast Nightclub (remember when nightclub was spelt with a K? Ah happy days). He was knocked back for wearing a stripey jumper. The bastard. I'll let the Irish News explain the rest of the story....

Bouncers at the newly-opened Scratch nightclub on Lower Crescent have ruled that the popular jumper design doesn't fit in to their idea of 'smart/casual'.

Security staff have been told not to allow revellers wearing the familiar style of sweater through their doors at the venue, previously The Fly, as it launches a new image.

One customer, business director Ian Latimer fell foul of the new dress code during a recent night out.

The 31-year-old was only allowed in once he changed his clothes.

"I had got out of the taxi and went to the bouncer to ask where the nearest bank machine was and after telling me it was around the corner, he said, 'By the way, you won't get in with that top on, because it has horizontal stripes.'

"I think probably 99 per cent of men aged 25 to 35 in Northern Ireland got a stripey jumper for Christmas from their mother, sister or girlfriend and it is ridiculous to say that a 'certain classification of person wears it'."

Bwahahahahahaha brilliant. By why now? Why now, in the 21st century, are we banning people from nightclubs who wear stripey jumpers? Why not years ago?! Rumour has it he has taken his case to a Human Rights Lawyer. Why stop there? Call Amnesty International! Call The Red Cross! Call International Rescue. You got knocked back from a bar for wearing a shity jumper, get the fuck over yourself.

And then there was this story. But it's just too easy. Read it yourself.....

*name the song...