Boogled

Google Analytics is always fun. Aside from telling me I remain unloved in Greenland, a cult of one in Palestine, but surprisingly popular Patagonia, there is the warm glow which comes from knowing that I am widely read in Texas. Bill would be proud of me.

Of course, the biggest joy provided by Google Analytics is seeing which surreal searches have pushed people towards English Dreaming, English Rain. My favourites over the last few weeks include: ‘Michael Keaton sightings’, ‘celebrities and their Dobermans’ and ‘duck herding Essex’. However nothing quite tops ‘Kyle McLaughlin pursued by a bear’.

If my mind was not already boggling at though of Agent Cooper stumbling onto the darkness at hidden in the song Teddy Bears Picnic*, then it would definitely be boggled at some of the desperate searches for niche porn captured by analytic software. ‘Dirty pissing,’ ‘leather glove wank story’ and ‘Timotei advert girl fuck’ are probably all pretty standard things. Yet broadminded as I am, there is still surprise in finding people hit my blog looking for ‘Dame porn’, ‘wanking with ribbons’ or ‘badger sex pictures’.

David Icke and Anne-Marie Forker remain ever popular searches, though it is probably best not to interrogate some of the Boolean logic attached to their names by some researchers. There are cases with both of them where I think I need to move beyond the standard boggling and invent a new word, possibly boogled.

The biggest shocks and laughter came from those trying to answer really hard questions. ‘Is Stephen Grasso evil?’ ‘Is English jazz dead?’ ‘Where in the world is David Southwell? The chance of EDER ever being able to answer those imponderables remains slightly less than that of Southend United winning the UEFA Cup.

*Trust me, it is there. I can rumble the line: ‘If you go down to the woods today you are sure for a big surprise’ with such bear menace it makes children cry.

Searching for ‘Cockney Urine’

Google Analytics remains grand fun. The cryptic messages delivered via may have it stopped after I complained about enigmatic buggering around, but it keeps delivering both insight and amusement. There is something very gratifying about learning the average visitor from Russia spends 14 minutes and 28 seconds reading this blog.

It is also gratifying to see I am regular read by 47 of the 50 States making up the United States. I am not quite sure why the citizens of Idaho, Wyoming and North Dakota are immune to my charms, but I refuse to dwell on the puzzle. Any hint of sadness over this snub is eased by the warm tingle of knowing English Dreaming, English Rain is truly trans-national. With readers drawn from 53 countries, people stopping by from more than a 1,000 locations worldwide, tears over a trio of American laggards would be misplaced.

Among the more interesting searches casting unexpected people upon my shore so far this month are ‘what is a cult author’, ‘reptilians in British soaps’ 'lawyers for Charlie Richardson’ and ‘is Jello Biafra Jewish’. Anyone searching for ‘first class butt fuck’, ‘David Icke representative of God’ or ‘Nigella Lawson porn’ almost certainly went away disappointed. However, I would like to hope those searching for ‘Cockney Urine’, ‘Britannia Inferior’ and ‘Essexmania’ took something of value away with them.

In recent days, eight different visitors arrived at my blog after searching for my ex-fiancée Anne-Marie Forker. I am sure there will have been dissatisfied. There are few mentions in this blog of her photography or her human rights studies. Writing for me is exorcism, so they will probably be a even more disappointed when I eventually get around to using words to externalise the night I suffered a minor stroke and was left on the kitchen floor or the weekend of the dead kittens. At the time I unfairly blamed her for much of what happened. These days, I carry the guilt and blame myself. The wisdom of realising that things only happen to us if we allow them to is hard won. Pain is often the best teacher.

Enigmatic Buggering Around

Google Analytics is a wonderful little bit of software. Not only does it tell me that on November 5th nine searches were made for the "David Southwell vs. David Icke" while only one person was looking for "David Southwell's Coal Hole Club", it continues to provide fascinating insights. Beyond letting me know which ex girlfriends bother to check English Dreaming, English Rain and that I have two regular readers in Peru, it is so versatile some souls have begun to use it for sending me cryptic messages.

Of theses analytic messengers, only Dickon bothers to sign his keyword trails (though it is not too hard to work out where the message “David Southwell Black Star salutes you” might originate from). Reading these messages, there is only one big mystery: why bother? It is beyond me why the person writing: "David Southwell Big Secret Dorchester", "David Southwell Dorchester Can Supply Co-ordinates" and "David Southwell Investigate Dorchester" cannot just use an old school cypherpunk remailer like everyone else. It is probably age related, but I have no patience with enigmatic buggering around these days.

'English Rain Hat Boys'

Playing around with the Google Analytics for English Dreaming, English Rain is interesting. I love to see what random phrases typed in by Internet explorers send them hurtling toward this blog. It is strangely gratifying to know anyone typing in ‘Evil Cockney’, ‘Avenue Q Scientology’, ‘MV Magdeburg’ ‘Albanian Freemasons’ or ‘Essex backwaters’ might end up here, However, I cannot help but feel those who happened on English Dreaming, English Rain by entering ‘Best vegetarian sausages’ or ‘Women fondled by men in latex gloves’ would have gone away hugely disappointed. I can only pity the poor souls who arrived by the phrases ‘There’s no aphrodisiac like loneliness’ and ‘Wanking with electrodes attached’.

Among my recent favourite surreal keywords that have directed traffic to these pages are ‘Toe wrestling’, ‘Lime green Adidas tracksuit’ and ‘English rain hat boys’. As glorious as they are, nothing beats the fact that English Dreaming, English Rain is one click away for those looking for ‘Charlie Brooker wanking for coins’ or ‘Badger deterrent’. I may not provide any Googlewhacks, but there are not that many places around where ‘Plinky plink’ and ‘Ernest Shinwell’ or the ‘Great Serpent Mound’ and ‘Mighty Boosh Test Card F’ live together.