Consonant reader,

Today is my 28th birthday out of 28. I've stayed up all night just so that at the stroke of midnight I could say "Today is my birthday.."

I'm a bit tired for having done this, but its worth it, like the time I stayed up at midnight to see when I finally turned 13 and became a teenager.

Right then, 23 hours 50 minutes or so to enjoy meself..

B x.

As referred to in the early Sunday post this is the story of some pubs, some money and three twats. A recipe for a headache.

We’d not seen old Worzel for 5 months so were keen to make Saturday night a memorable affair. We trooped off to the pub and for starters ordered 3 pints of Carlsberg.

“I know” someone said, “lets set ourselves a challenge”
“Good plan – how about we don’t drink the same drink twice?”
“How about we spell out a word using the first letter of each drink?!”
“Oooooo, that’s good….”
“How about ‘chaffinch?’”
“Amen”

And so Carlsberg was followed by Heineken, Amstel, Famous Grouse and Fosters. Smirnoff Ice stood for ‘I’ – which was perhaps artistic licence but then we hit ‘N’ which was more of a problem.

“We require a drink beginning with ‘N’” Worzel challenged the bartender in true slurred Withnail style.

“We haven’t got one, came the reply – but we could invent one!”

A fine lady who appeared to be in charge of cocktails proceeded to concoct us 3 ‘Neil Pearson’s’ (although she said they were called 3 ‘never the fuck agains’ we decided that Neil Pearson was a much better name) This consisted of Vodka, Black Sambuca and Absinth all burning with a pretty blue/green flame.

“Make sure you blow out the flame before you try and drink them” we were advised.
So Worzel promptly grabbed his and set part of the bar and part of his arm on fire. The bar staff truly loved us.

The second ‘C’ was a bottle of Corona and the ‘H’ was a ‘Hot shot’ which consisted of crème de menthe, amaretto with an espresso sitting on top. Fabulous.

Astonishingly we were all still fairly ‘with it’ at this stage and retired to a table in the corner to discuss our next move.

“A Lady Boy!” Suggested Bonobo “Like in Alan Partridge!” (this consists of a measure of Baileys, a gin and tonic and a pint of lager.) Genius. I ordered them.

“Do you want house doubles mate?” I was posed.
“Go on then, why not”

Well, I’ll tell you why not ladies and gents. You should never mix a double gin with a chaffinch. Within 10 minutes Worzel was a wreck with his head between his knees, occasionally lifting his head to examine the spinning room and us laughing at him before lying down in the corner of the sofa.

I made it home but passed out shortly after.

Bonobo – well, he sat up until 3 and then was awake blogging by 7. Not fair really.

Last night I went out with Crumb and Worzel and got well and truly chaffinched (See future posts)...

I went to bed at 3ish, way after everyone else had turned in...

Now as I write this, I'm the only fucker up at 7.30-ish...

Why oh why do I get up so early?...

Its always the same with me, last to go to bed, first to wake up...

I must be owed days upon days of banked up sleep by now...

I feel so frustrated with myself, even now, writing this in a hungover state. I shouldn't be writing this at this time!- but I am, because I can't help waking up so chuffing early in the morning...

I'm not even remotely tired, not even on 4 hours sleep and a wild and crazy night behind me, which just adds to my general frustration...

Rats cocks and pigs willies I say...

Happy Easter too!

Henry was an egg. An eggy in fact. He egged around all day and in the evenings he usually egged some more. On the days when he awoke in his eggy bed and didn't feel too much like egging his friends would gather around him and egg him on to improve his eggage.

But deep inside of Henry was hidden a dark and disturbing secret. For Henry was not just any old egg, he was an egg laid from the very arse of the Hen of Doom, the most powerful of the infamous gang known as the poultry-batterers. Fortunately Henry had escaped from the clothes of these evil, feathered menaces before they could inflict fowl deeds upon him, but nonetheless he knew that one day he too would develop into a dark minion of the batterers and a servant of shell. He knew he would one day turn against those who loved him.

So Henry the egg decided to leave his life of egging behind, to escape once again. But this time he was to escape to a place where he could do no harm once the inevitable change in him took hold of his existence. So he scrambled, never to be seen again in Eggsville.

Some say his escape was short-lived and he became a fugitive who roamed the countryside raping and pillaging. Others say he was responsible for a military coup in a far-off land. Some even say he did not get far and was killed by a group of soldiers. However many of the loyal yolks of Eggsville choose to believe that Henry simply reached his expiry having done many good deeds throughout the kingdom.

Me? I haven't a clue, I never knew the bastard.

Alright now, stop throwing those damned rotten fruit and tomatoes at me. I didn't mean to be so late, but I quite clearly am and therefore do apologise on hand and knee.

This week's prayer is dedicated to a person who only just now caught my attention on TV. Once I started thinking about him, I started welling up with pride, admiration and overall back slapping. See if you think the same. Remember, this is only opinion, so give marks out of 10 babies..

Lets us all now join in prayer, turn our heads skyward and give eternal thanks to those who have done us all proud and made us happy to be where we are today.

Prayer No. 5: Stephen Fry

He's proved himself immensely funny, witty and funny and witty from time to time (Ooo, where would we start?)

He's a not bad actor either.

..When he's not leaving West End plays in the middle of a popular run ("Cellmates" as an example, in fact the only example)..

He writes books, which people read when given the chance.

He went to university with a load of other luvvies.

I think we'd all like to meet him at least once, if just to hear him shout "MmmmBlackadder!" in his gruff sheep- like Colonel Melchett voice.

"Thanks Mr. Fry, you are a good bloke"- B + C x.

It's unbelievable.

"Car crime - together we'll crack it."

No we won't, because it appears that there is no limit to what can happen to your car whilst it is parked outside your own house.

I follow some basic security guidelines with my VW Polo. For example I always secure it with a crook-lock and make sure that I leave nothing on display. I am good at remembering to remove the fascia of my CD player and I sometimes even shut the sunroof.

However, it appears that one of the security measures I have sadly overlooked is that I have never thought to introduce laser-powered deflector shields. These would have almost certainly ensured protection from the little pricks who decided to cut through my fuel pipe in an attempt to drain out the fuel.

Of all the things that can go wrong with a car, this was not one I had previously considered.

Had to call the fire brigade to clean it up though, that was quite exciting. A car standing in a lake of petrol alongside seven other cars looked potentially rather warm should a passer-by misplace a fag end...

Usually its not customary to let villains into our church of praise, but this guy seems pretty exceptional.

Let us sit down, close our eyes and bow our heads. Crack up the organ and hit the high notes as once again we give blessing to those who moulded and influenced the early part of our lives to full effect. Let us now praise a boy who needs no major introduction..

But we'll give him one anyway. To celebrate the release of the offical trailer for Star Wars: Episode 3, coming out in only 66 days time (A Star Wars nut? Me? Pah Tsk and humbug) we give you..

Prayer No.4: Darth Vader

Ok, a bit obvious, but a very important obvious choice.

He was the 'chosen one' and had a bit of a temper.

He fell from grace and went over to the Dark Side.. (No, not Rhyl on a Saturday night..)

"He's more machine now than man."- Wow.

He made heavy breathing socially acceptable.

He's an original badass movie villain going down with the likes of Frankenstein, Dracula, Ernst Blofeld and Nasty Nick.

He was a baddie you really wouldn't mind being one day, if just to have a evil red looking lightsaber concealed in a dark black cape.

He was good all along anyway.

He was played by Dave Prowse, Mr. Green Cross Code.

He was superbly voiced by James Earl Jones, by giving him a menacing deep tone whilst talking into something like an empty pint glass.

We can all see how he got to be the way he is in the upcoming film coming out in May..

"Thank you Mr. Vader, B + C x"

Consonant reader,

On Saturday night just gone, I had come into contact with a lot of people I'd previously not had the pleasure of meeting before.

Most of these new friends were extensions from Crumb's social circle and it was a pleasure, a joy and a privilege to meet these fine characters.

It just so happened that I'd met a few of these lovely people during the Bristol Beer Festival, which really put a rosy glow on the whole affair. Last years effort was a good turn out, so there was all good expectation that this years would be just the tiniest bit brill as well.

Which it was. The whole was very good; being able to drink from midday onwards, and finish the festival at 4 in the afternoon, when its still light and move onto more places of ruin was just heaven.

A good time had by all. But, back to these strangers. One of these new friends invited me and Mr. C back to his house where he stayed with his other housemates. After a period of stumbling, in deep conversation about.. well, fuck it, I can't remember but, man it was DEEP, we ended up at this friends house. Although, even then we weren't quite sure if it was the right house. But it was, and we were let in from the cold, which we couldn't feel anyway because we were plastered.

Now, drinking different ales at this beer festival meant you would have to put into your body an array of different yeasty malty goodness or whatever they make beer from nowadays. This means that, if you have a sensitive disposition, you are likely to have either an upset tummy, break devil- wind or both. And when I walked into that house, I felt some wind brew down below.

We walked into the front room where our friend introduced us to the housemates. This is where I farted. Just at the point where we were trying to introduce ourselves.

Crumb immediately pointed me out so as not to get into trouble, and with good reason. It was a room emptier. A bomb. Everyone looked at me and held their noses.

"At least you'll remember me" I slurred to these strangers whilst turning a deeper shade of organic tomato. I had greeted these innocent people by dropping my guts instead of saying something like "Hi, my names Bonobo, how are you?"

That night, something inside of me died.

As you could tell by the god awful smell.

B x.

Now settle down at the back. Take your coats off, hats at the door of our almighty church of praise. Once again, it is with a great joy that we worship those who have shone their unique talents upon us and have made our lives justa little bit more betterer.

Let us be silent as our sermon is to begin. And please, stop coughing in the third row, its bloody annoying.

Please remember marks out of 10 if you would be so kind. Last weeks response was very interesting, many of you had never even heard of Hugo Myatt; simply outright blasphemy.

This week;

Prayer No.3: Bernard Bresslaw

He was in most of the Carry On films that were any good.

He played women in some Carry On films, usually nurses when he looked blatantly like a big bloke in drag with a deep voice. But this didn't stop old men in hospital wards from trying to pinch his bum. Just think of a carry on film with 'nurse', 'doctor' or 'matron' in the title and he's usually there.

Sometimes he played baddies too, like in "Carry On Up The Khyber".

He played a chinese henchman to great aplomb alongside cinemtatic greats such as Peter Ustinov and, er.. Derek.. Nimmo, in the 70's hit-children's film "One Of Our Dinosaurs Is Missing" (a film which may have to have a SS post all to itself one day..)..

He played a massive, intimidating-at-first-then-becomes-friendly cyclops in the early 80's fantasy fest "Krull", again playing alongside such silver screen legends as Liam Neeson, Robbie Coltrane, Alan Armstrong and Todd Carty.

Missed by thousands of adoring Bresslaw fans everywhere, he was a very tall and versatile british actor.

Thank you BB. X.

Consonant reader,

On my merry way back from work this afternoon I just heard Elkie Brooks singing her latest song on the radio; as opposed to hearing her song on the kettle.

She was a guest for Johnny Walker earlier in the week. "Wow" I thought. "Elkie Brooks. Wow." My mind drifted back, swam back against the tide of my years. I ended up placing myself in my dad's car, aged about 8, listening to the Best of Elkie Brooks repeatedly on tape. God, those car journeys went on forever didn't they? And those songs you heard, you know you just love them now too..

And Elkie Brooks was a solid and integral part of my own early formative years. In years to come, I would not continue my support for Ms. Brooks, as I became more interested in grunge, girls and various forms and strengths of lagers. Infact I have never bought anything recording, painted, written, killed or freshly buttered by Ms. Brooks in any way. My interest in her is simply from a bygone age.

But on hearing that she was on Johnny Walker and had a new single out filled me with a kind of nostalgia mixed with glee and anticipation.

Glanticipalgia.

"Wow" I thought again. "Elkie Brooks. Wow. All these years later. Wow".

Well, she came on and sang, and.. well.. by god..

She sounded like an old little crow with a smokers cough.

Another idol falls...

B x..

Jamie Mason is dead.

He was a 12 year old lad with his life ahead of him.

His was struck by a speeding vehicle, being driven by a drink-driver who was 1 and a half times over the legal limit. The man had no insurance and no driving licence.

This child killer has been jailed for 2 months.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I am not the most liberal-minded bloke on the planet but HOW THE FUCK can this allowed?

To add to this judicial nonsense Arsenal footballer Jermaine Pennant was jailed yesterday for drink driving and he got 3 months. He hit a lamp-post - which is believed to still be alive.

The media are focusing on the fact that the child killer was an asylum seeker. Other than begging the question of how much benefit an asylum seeker must be getting to afford to run a Rover 620 which guzzles fuel this fact is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that a child is dead and this country pathetic legal leniency has rubbed salt in the unhealable wounds of a family in mourning.