The Mighty Love

I use the word 'modicum' in this post

2006-11-25T10:23:00.000+01:00

So there I am, happily coasting in my job.

It's easy, anyone can do it if they find the right place. You don't need to stick your neck out, you just do what you're told and what you're expected to do.

As a teacher, its really just all about teaching. Head down, teach. Teach, teach and teach. Keep on teachin' as the old song never used to say.

Well a week and a half (ish) ago my head of department, the guy I usually look up to to see what I have to do next had a slight accident. The cut a short story into a bite-sized nugget, he broke his ankle and won't be back until well after christmas.

Which means I can't coast along anymore.

I'm taking his GCSE classes on top of mine. I'm assuming other responsibilities that he would have usually done, which means a lot more paperwork. Also OfSTED are coming in to pay us a visit (not unexpected- the school needs them as a matter of course due to its unique position at the moment..) so everyone needs to be really, really on the ball.

That means really, even aside from OfSTED coming in, Bonobo can't coast along anymore. Now I've got to be a kind of head of department myself.

Which fills me with excitement and a modicum of pant-filling fear...

(Oh and as regards my eating of strange and weird delicacies from my previous post, I've had to draw a line under that, only because at the moment I cannot find a lamb's heart anywhere and also it would take a lot of time, love and an iron clad constitution which at the moment I am in little supply of.. so I'll have to put that on hold for now..)

True calling

2006-11-12T19:57:00.000+01:00

I only bought a microphone the other day, then downloaded some free music recording software and got some special lead connectors to plug in various instruments etc..

By god, now I'm making music! Music that can be played on stereos, mp3s and CD players!

...Well, its music of a sort. Its very rough and sounds very home made and I can't sing to save my life; but I godamn love it!

Why wasn't I doing this like 5 years ago?

(p.s. I will be attempting gross food this week owing to illness last week...)

Eat Bonobo: An Introduction

2006-10-30T17:41:00.000+01:00

Ok... This is an idea I've had for ages but never got around to actually putting into action.

Here's the rules:

You may suggest a meal for me to eat.

It can be any combination of food you wish.

It cannot be too hazardous to my health i.e. toxic, acid, bleach etc.

It cannot be 'off', out of date or rotten.

It will be debatable to accept the food if it is extremely rare to find in the UK i.e. reindeer's testicles or super exclusive and expensive i.e. reindeer's testicles.

It must be food that is 'easy' to get hold of (No Roadrunner if you please.)

All comments will be looked at and a final decision will be made on which meal to have.

So, finally, you suggest the meal and I will prepare it if it needs preparing, cook it and eat it with pictorial evidence.

That's the rules for now. They might need tweaking and adjusting but that's about it.

I welcome your suggestions!

Above: Bonobo tucks into some scrummy breakfast, yesterday

Brief Video Game Character Fun

2006-10-25T08:53:00.000+01:00

Mincing my merry way across the digital divide this morning I stumbled across a little beautiful nugget of randomness which I though I'd share with yaw all..

I remember doing this back in uni so this is years old and you may well have also already seen it, done it and had the t-shirt.. but you can see what kind of pre- 1985 video game character you would be based on a few simple questions! Ooooo!

This is mine on the type of things that I do..

I am a Gauntlet Adventurer.

I strive to improve my living conditions by hoarding gold, food, and sometimes keys and potions. I love adventure, fighting, and particularly winning - especially when there's a prize at stake. I occasionally get lost inside buildings and can't find the exit. I need food badly. What Video Game Character Are You?

..Pretty accurate although ideally I was hoping I'd turn out more like Jet Set Willy...

(Thanks- www.ravenblack.net)

Golf: A metaphor for life itself...

2006-10-16T18:57:00.000+01:00

A very bad metaphor as I am about to demonstrate.

Whenever I play golf I tend to do the same things wrong over and over again. For example, when swinging the club I tend to lift my head, instead of focusing on the ball. I don't move my hips in the correct way or 'follow through' with the club which means I end up jabbing at the ball. Above all, I rush things rather than concentrating on thinking things through and getting it right.

It's like life. I reckon I should keep my head down more, try to be more inconspicuous and perhaps not such a tart. I should focus on what I am doing and concentrate properly. I definitely should think things through before acting or opening my mouth. And maybe I should move my hips properly (?)

But all too often I don't do these things, certainly not all of them. And, like golf - it doesn't matter how many times I tell myself not to do something, for some subconscious reason I end up doing it again. As Britney Spears once wisely put it; "oops".

Not really sure where I'm going with this so I'll finish off by pointing out that golf is also very much like my life in the sense that I am forever trying to get my balls near a hole. Or 18 holes if the truth be known.

See? - Golf is like life! It's not all drivers, flags and dodgy waterproofs.

I guess to blogland it looks as though it's taken me about 8 months to come up with that... x

Photos Of My Beautiful Car

2006-10-13T06:41:00.000+01:00

Here are some distressing images of my ex-car. Those of you with a nervous disposition had better look away now...

From the front...

From the side/ front...

The other guys' set of wheels (yeah, I did that)...

Closer inspection in the garage...

Never mind though- the claims assessor has had a look at her and has stated quite a reasonable sum for payout...

I was expecting £800 less than he actually recommended. Which was nice!

Now it just depends on when I get the payout. Knowing how speedy my insurance company has been so far I could be in for a bit of a wait..

Below: Bonobo's new car

Infuriating Events

2006-10-11T06:51:00.000+01:00

Just to update you, I've spent every day trying to figure out what the hell is going on with my insurance, will I get a courtesy car, is the other person going to admit liability, where can I get a new car from etc etc.

Frankly, its not a place I like being in. I'm a simple man and follow fairly simple rules. But to have to be thrust into a position where I have to worry about everything.. Its just nuts.

I totally realise my insurance company (remaining nameless although I would love to let everyone know how useless and what a waste of time and money you really are) are completely incompetent and have tried to let ME do all of the work for them.

-Very, very soul destroying. I completely empathise with anyone who has had to do this before and, warn anyone right now- PLEASE, PLEASE BE CAREFUL WHEN DRIVING!

...Happy days!

My Beautiful Car

2006-10-06T06:51:00.000+01:00

I know its very shallow to love your car, but I love mine. It's like a little workhorse for me. Its been through a hell of a lot. Its been really handy for me to get to work, to travel back and forth across the country to see my lovely PPQ.
All in all a lovely machine to have.

Last week I drove her from Oxford to Worcester to get her MOT sorted out because her tax was due this week. I did it on the Thursday night and then used my mums car to drive to work on the Friday. Then I drove her car back to Worcester on the Friday to pick up my newly MOT'd car.

I did this because I trust a certain garage that I have used for years in Worcester so it only seemed right and I could always find one in Oxford given time.

She also needed a service doing to her so yesterday evening I did the same thing.

Only I never made it to Worcester. At around 6.30 I ploughed into someone who was turining right in the opposite direction and who hadn't bothered to consider oncoming traffic.

My car was, for want of a better word, trashed. The front left side had its chassis pulled back and exposed the engine, screen washer and brake pads. Both headlights had popped out, the bonnet crumpled and passenger door completely jarred out of position.

In the meantime I successfully tested out the airbag, grazed my hand from the airbag opening up (which looked worse because it grazed down several layers of skin and had bled in places) whilst skidding along the road after clipping the side of the other car.

The other car amazingly flipped onto its roof. Yeah, I did that, I flipped a car.

This other car was driven by a guy who was only renting his car. He therefore had little ownership of the car in the first place. He got out of it straight away even though he was upside down.

The car that had been behind me stopped and the lady inside helped me and the other guy out, others stopped, the police arrived soon after and statements were given.

...The thing that is going to play on my mind is that, my car, my bread and butter, my VERY USEFUL THING has gone and finding a replacement will be a lengthy and unecessary process.

The other guy (who apparently will be flying back to Russia fairly soon anyway) will walk away from it, leaving his hire company to sort it out.

Meanwhile I am left with trying to sort out that thing that I needed the most to go where I needed to go- and it wasn't even my fault.

I know its only a bloody car but it means certain avenues have been cut off for a while, certain things will needed to be sorted out and its just what I dont need, not now, not ever.

I am feeling a bit down at the moment.

Tales of the Smoking Nun

2006-10-02T20:38:00.000+01:00

Me and the boy Crumb have a friend called the Smoking Nun.

-Of course thats not his real name though, what poor baby would ever be christened 'The Smoking Nun'.. I've never known it personally, but if it does ever happen I'd like to be there at the christening as the family would all be completely hatstand.

I really do digress here... Back to the quality post...

So the Smoking Nun recalls a tale of when he was younger and would go out with his friend and get trolleyed. On the way home they would stop of at a late night service station and ask a poor random assistant for ice lollies from the freezer.

Not all that unusual you might think.

But they would take great pleasure in asking for ice lollies that never actually existed.

"Do you have the new Star Wars range of ice lollies? I'm after the Obi-Wan Kenobi Vanilla block."

He took great relish in recounting how the poor assistant would have to rummage deep into the arctic depths of the freezer, all for nowt as they had both just made it up on the spot.

Frickin' genius. I'm going to do it if I ever get the chance.

The Youth Of Today: Slang

2006-09-28T06:29:00.000+01:00

Here are three examples of some slang that I've recently picked up from working with pupils at this school I'm at in Oxford. Ready?

"Nang"- means good. I figured that this could have come from "poontang" or something like that.

"You're a son of a son"- bizarre insult, I suppose a bit like a son of a bitch but a lot more descriptive and genetically accurate.

"A doer", "You're a doer" (as in you do things)- A really shocking insult. To call someone a doer is to tar them with the stupid brush. (I only heard this in my previous school but I neeeded to include it because I use it from time to time)

I'll keep my ears to the ground for more yoof slang folks just to keep everyone informed!

-Wicked! (now that's flipping timeless)

Lovely to be back

2006-09-19T21:00:00.000+01:00

Well, I've moved out of my parents house for the second time in my life...

I'm living in Oxford with some very nice housemates and have finally gotten the internet plugged in and ready to rumble! It took a bit of time and I wasn't sure if I could do it but thanks to the great and good technical support here I'm up and running!

I haven't got that much to discuss at the moment, still settling into my new teaching job and so on...

...So I'd just like to lt you all know of my most recent and notable dream.

It was awesome.

It was an entire episode of Dr. Who but written and guest starring the Mighty Boosh. Imagine that!

More irrelevent japery soon x.

Ssshh...

2006-09-02T08:43:00.000+01:00

If there's one thing that would ever stop me blogging as frequently as I do, which is infrequent already would be no internet access, which is exactly what I'm getting in my new gaff.

No more lazy surfing the 'net for deals for drum kits on ebay or trying to find a Commodore 64 emulator to play 'Jet Set Willy'...

No, these things will be a thing of the past. I now have to face the music, return to a new workplace and get on with it..(and like, I've only had 6 weeks off..)

Maybe I could blog from work after school, that's certainly a possibilty, I'll certainly try not to write a post during a lesson. I reckon that'd be wrong.. we'll have to wait and see..

And what with Crumb taking an extended sabbatical (He last posted here just before the first world war- I mean, how he did it before computers were even invented still to this day astounds me) it may become a little quiet around here..

Calculators

2006-08-24T07:47:00.000+01:00

I had a dream ages ago about calculators.

It involved understanding how these electronic boxes actually operate, what kind of technology is put into place in order for you to add up 540856 and 965956956 (It's 966497812 for those with the air of the pedantic amongst you).

In my dream I found out that calculators were driven not by AA alkali batteries and simple logorythmic tables but were infact posessed by the ghosts or spirits of long dead mathematicians who simply helped you do your maths.

This was just a dream however. Electrical appliances being possessed by supernatural non- entities is not commonplace, however I have my suspicion that my fridge has been taken over by the spirit of Kenneth Williams.

Big Bear

2006-08-19T07:48:00.000+01:00

When I used to live in North Wales many moons ago I had a few school friends and it was with these friends that I shared my first raw experiences with the substance termed as 'alcohol'.

We would all go up a mountain with crates of beer and a tent and generally do teenage drunken misbehaviour. One memorable activity involved starting a camp fire and then putting near- empty aerosol cans into it, running off and hearing them explode in the fire. Once a piece of molten aerosol went through someones tent's canvas, so we thought that was it, and we continued throwing cans into the fire.

It was a lot of fun and we all had really good times...

Since then I've lost contact with everyone on that mountain bar one person. He was my best friend in school and helped me get through my teenage years with aplomb. Let's call him the Bear. I call him this because for one thing he began growing body hair at quite an early age and secondly he is unnaturally strong and can lift me up in one hand, and I'm not that dainty.

We met at the local Cub group. I first made friends with the Bear when we had to take part in a Cub sports day and we did the 3 legged race together. He scared me at first and I didn't really know what to make of him. Years later we met up again at secondary school and from there we hit it off famously.

We would make it a daily custom to verbally abuse each other in weird and wonderful ways. From the verbal form came the written form and each night we would both write a strongly worded letter or poster depicting the other in a very negative light- ok so we slagged each other off everyday. This went on for years, and I still have every abusive letter we wrote to each other.

Back to the present, and I've moved around a bit since then and so has the Bear. Through one thing and another he's now living back in North Wales. I went to visit the Bear again last week. Everytime I see him I do feel 14 years old again. It's great to see him although I'd never tell him that when sober. We still yell obscenities at each other, drink to the good times and although we may be getting bigger, badder and balder (Maybe not so 'badder') things seem to have never changed between us.

It's a friendship of a particular place in a particular time which survives today and years from now and that can only be a good thing to keep.

The Land Of Oxen: A sonnet or something

2006-08-11T17:38:00.000+01:00

Well, eventually myself and PPQ will be Oxford bound so I thought I'm feeling a bit poetic (infact its hard to find me in a non poetic mood- honestly, I'll rhymes anything that moves, so long as I have the grooves to speak into booths and brush my tooths.. Genius.)

Anyway, here's a poem about Oxford as the title of the post may indicate.

Oh Oxford oh oxford, it's the place for me,
I'm moving there soon with my wife to be,
What joys await these spires so pretty
Oh Oxford oh oxford youre my new best city.

I must stop this poem now; to put on hiatus,
To ask: what qualifies a city to be 'city status'?
I thought cathedrals were needed to ensure this label,
maybe pedestrian zones and ramps for disabled

A mayor, a chairman and council thats thorough,
Maybe a county, a district or borough,
Good transport links from outside and in,
Clean sanitation and places to bin

Oh Oxford I'm sure you'll fit this criteria,
Now find me a word that rhymes with criteria.

Copyright 2006 Bonobo Love- ah sod it, keep it I don't need it, theres more where that came from!

"The Breakfast Club" does not reflect modern day some pupil attitudes especially here in the UK

2006-08-09T18:58:00.000+01:00

As you know (Although it isn't public knowledge) I'm a teacher and am currently spending my summer holidays doing very little although PPQ has got me into some household chores which I love doing as it keeps me well occupied. Well it was either that or a crime spree and my neck is still tender and I didn't feel like holding up a bank.

Ironically (although it isn't- thats the real irony) I've watched John Hughes' The Breakfast Club, a tale about a group of kids who have to stay behind in school for Saturday detention. If you haven't seen it before then obviously let me not spoil the ending- you can just sctop reading now, cheers.. (Or you could just read on..)

So for the rest of us, we get to see a prom queen, a criminal, a basket case, a jock and a genius find and share their inner angst and share their experiences.

I've seen the film before and thought it a very good film, you know, the usual John Hughes fayre.

However since being a teacher the film has a slightly different feel to it. I know its 'hollywood' and its not 'meant' to be real but a part of it really bugged me. If the character of 'Bender' played by the Judd Nelson is so rebellious, why didn't he just walk out at the beginning of the film- hell- why did he turn up at all? If you told a kid they had to spend Saturday detention in school most would probably laugh at you and say 'You'll be lucky sir'.

Well, that's the general experience I've found in schools. I'm not saying this is the rule and I'm not saying this is way kids are- the 'fuck y**' attitude of today's youth but certainly if you have character like Bender, you would expect even less cooperation from him from the off.

Yes, as the plot progresses he becomes more unruly and stretches his already unsteady and negative relationship with the head teacher (I'm not sure if he is the headteacher actually..).

As regards the other four kids- I have no problem with them at all. I can totally believe that you can smoke marijuana in a school library, scream and break the glass whilst a deafening soundtrack of eighties pop blares through the loud speakers.

Above: He should have walked out sooner. Call yourself a rebel? You.. non- rebel..

Pain In The Neck

2006-08-03T07:48:00.000+01:00

She stands in the corner of the room looking at me, teasing me to come over.

But I can't, because if I do; if I go over there and hold her close to me, she'll hurt me even more. Godamn it, I can't do it even though I really want to.

Just before half term I took part in the end of term concert and, with the aid of my school band, rocked our socks off in front of the school. It was good and I really thought it to be a defining moment of my time at the school and a very fond memory. I'd played the drums as well and we'd finished the 'set' off with 'Ace of spades'. The problem was, I hadn't played drums for about a two months beforehand, so it was really only one quick rehearsal in the morning and then the real deal at lunchtime in order to get my beat back.

This intense excercise of my arms led to a really sore neck and back a few days later. After a week of pain that would come and go I went to see an osteopath. He rubbed my neck and back and told me that my muscle on my neck had siezed up completely and therefore wouldn't relax. That meant the other muscles around it were working in sympathy which led to even greater pain.

I was told not to lift heavy weights and to relax my arm on the side of my body where the pain was/is. As I'm typing this my bad arm is resting on the desk and I'm typing with one finger.

Well its not been too bad. I've just sat down nearly all week letting my arm relax and not do much else. Reading and watching TV is my life this week. The main problem is however, I love playing with my guitar, and she's just across the room from me, taunting me to come over.

And I could. I could nip over, crank her up, put her over my shoulder and let rip.. but.. I'd be back to square one again.. hurt..

I'll just have to give it a bit more time. And patience. Once the pain goes awa-

*Bonobo turns to shout at the guitar*

STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! JEEZUS!

*Bonobo leaves the room*

My turmoiled brain

2006-07-25T12:54:00.000+01:00

I love meeting up with friends and I enjoy having a good time.

But lately I've been reassuringly useless at trying to arrange times to see my friends. I just can't get around to seeing them in person and it usually ends up with a quick 5 minute phone call usually at the wrong time of day or night and usually it ends with "...definitely meet up..." or "..haven't seen you in so long...".

And of course, nothing comes from it. I really, really need to sort out not only my friends but also how I arrange time elsewhere. PPQ calls it the Land of the Hapless People where you seem to be running out of time, always in a rush, never quite sure where you're going. Sometimes I think of myself as Anneka Rice stumbling through a historic market town frantically trying to find the final clue on her Treasure Hunt with only mere minutes to go. But of course I'm not wearing a pink and yellow jumpsuit and there's no helicopter in sight. But I do run around and generally not arrange my life.

I've recently bought a filofax, and BY GOD I'M GONNA USE THE SOD!

..Problem is, the filofax dates begin on August the 1st. I still have a week of unplanned hapless mayhem to get through. After that my life will be well planned down to the amount of breaths I take.

Last Day

2006-07-21T06:07:00.000+01:00

Today is my last day at the school I'm currently at in Hereford. I've been there for wel over 2 years now which although it may not seem like long to you, its been a lifetime for me!

This school is the school that I taught really for the first time, its my first love and I will be sad to see the back of it. The kids are alright too- ok so there's a few nutters; every school has that. Even some staff are borderline insane- 'you don't have to crazy to work here; but you do'

I'm feeling a bit blue today because all of the good friends I've made I'm not going to see for some time to come. It's all just ending so soon.

Never mind I suppose. I do have a new job waiting for me in Oxford. I'm ready to turn around a set off for pastures new. Somethings have to be done whether you want them to or not.

*Bonobo sets sail for Oxford*

Let's have an almighty fighty

2006-06-26T19:25:00.000+01:00

Ok, so let's look at the great movie duels so far.

Think Obi-Wan Vs Anakin...

Think King Kong Vs Godzilla...

Think Bruce Lee Vs The Guy With The Metallic Claw Hand in the room with loads of mirrors...

Think Superman Vs Lex Luthor (Or Richard Pryor)...

Think Optimus Prime Vs Megatron...

Think Robin Hood Vs The Sheriff of Nottingham...

Think Alien Vs Predator...

Think Harry Potter Vs Voldemort...

Think The Fellowship of the Ring Vs Sauron's armies...

Think Sherlock Holmes Vs Moriarty fighting near the edge of some waterfall...

Think the Magnificent Seven (Cowboys or Samurai) Vs Everyone Else in the World...

Ok, good. We've set the scene.

Now, Have you heard of the 'Leprechaun' movies? And heard of the 'Wishmaster' movies?

Running along pretty much exactly the same plotlines as the 'Freddy Vs Jason' film, we give you 'Leprechaun Vs Wishmaster'. B-movie heaven!- let's fight!

My Mum's Wisdom

2006-06-17T15:14:00.000+01:00

*overheard in a conversation between Bonobo's mum and dad. Dad is eating lunch and watching Portugal V Iran, Mum is busy poaching an egg, not really interested in the world cup.*

Dad (with mouth slightly full): Look, its Portugal Vs Iran."

Mum: "Reading?"

My mum is priceless and a font of wisdom. She once gave me advice that, when trying to get something you really want, you should always "go for the bladder".

Thanks mum. x.

Bonobo has the sh*ts

2006-06-16T21:42:00.000+01:00

I'm quite ill at the moment. I have a bad case of the trots, 24 hours trots to be precise...

I think I picked this little bug up on Tuesday of last week, my stomach didn't feel so good on Wednesday, Thursday was utter hell and today has been about 10% better than Thursday...

My stomach keeps fooling me into thinking I'm better. It will be really calm and relaxed and then I'll be just about to celebrate the fact that I don't have to live my life sat on a toilet, when it erupts again...

I've never had this before, and its come with a whole load of other symptoms- nausea, headaches, shivers and sneezing; although most of those have gone now. Only the intense knife twisting stomach cramps remain along with regular toilet breaks...

I bloody well hate it. Mind you, could be worse. I could be on holiday, miles from the nearest chemists or (god forbid) toilet...

See thru pooch blues

2006-06-12T16:55:00.000+01:00

Ah... Mahoney. Poor ol' Mahoney. He was my pet dog... My pretend invisible pet dog. But a few days ago he completely disappeared.

I used to take him for fake walks in my head all of the time; first thing in the morning just before the sun came up (although recently that's been getting way too early for both of us...) and last thing at night. We'd have days out to places that I've just made up, to the park, to the zoo, to the cinema and even the beach. Yeah, he used to like the beach. We'd go running down the sand dunes of a non- specific beach and run into the clear blue water, splashing everywhere. He'd probably get wet and chase a seagull. I'd get wet too and chase a crab or something whilst laughing my head off, and then we'd get back to the car and I'd feed him some salad sandwiches. He chomp them down heartily and then go to sleep in the boot.

Well the other day I woke up one morning and noticed that Mahoney wasn't his usual self. He hadn't bothered buying a paper and the kettle hadn't been turned on. Usually he's first up and would sort all of that technical stuff out. But on this morning he was a bit.. Well, distracted. I led my fictional dog into my car and we drove to Matalan because I needed to buy a leg of lamb. Well! I had to leave Mahoney in the car because you can't let dogs into Matalan because they try on sandals and try to mess up the barcodes so he stayed in my car. It was a hot day so I let the windows right down so he could get a breeze on his face.

When I came back about 10 minutes later I noticed my car stereo had vanished along with my birth certificate, passport, bank statements and lump of gold that I'd left on the passenger seat. It seems that Mahoney had wanted a better life than the one he currently had and decided to leave me.

So instead I have a cat now and she's great fun. Infact she is way more independent than Mahoney ever was. And a lot more considerate. We get on very well and she can beat me at Quake 4. She has told me that her name is Suzy Wilkins.

Star Wars Trilogy Comeback

2006-05-18T19:54:00.000+01:00

George Lucas and his vast Empire have finally bowed to fanboy/girl pressure and will release the original Star Wars trilogy in their complete non- cgi glory...

Aaah.. to see Han shoot Greedo first instead of the other way around...

Click here to see the naff covers for the new releases..

Above: Soon after, Han shot Greedo in his little green noggin.

Out of stock

2006-05-16T18:21:00.000+01:00

*ring-ring... ring- ring.. ring-ring... ring- ring... ring- ri-*

"Hello?"

"Oh hi, my name is Bonobo Love. I was just wondering if I could order a ninja please. It says here they deliver within the hour."

"Um.. Hold on.."

"Pardon?"

"Could you just wait a minute please."

"Oh, okay"

*muffled conversation*

"You did say a ninja?"

"Yes, a ninja please. I'd like to infiltrate somewhere in the daylight without being seen and thought if I ordered a ninja it may help me. How much are they?"

"..Lets have a look then.."

*tappity tap, tappity tap tap- ENTER..*

"Standard lease on a ninja, your basic Onyx Silent Badboy is £120. For 24 hours. Then £20 each hour after that."

"Oh..kaay.. Didn't think they'd be cheap. ..Ok then... Could I order one please, right now."

"Sure. .. Oh.. Oh wait hang on..- *tappity tap tap* - they're out of stock. The next one up I could do for you would be a Lonesome Black Dragon Operative, but they're into the next price bracket."

"What are we talking here?"

"Two fifty, minimum. Couldn't do you any that would be cheaper."

"£250? .. "

"I could do a Gold Embossed Samurai at £150 for a day if you-"

"No, it has to be a ninja. Damn."

"Sorry mate, try again next week, we'll probably be not as busy then."

"Ok, thanks anyway. Bye for now."

"Cheers"

*click*

Sometimes it seems there just aren't enough ninjas in the world.

The Prodigal Sun Returns..

2006-05-03T18:16:00.000+01:00

Oh my shit...

The glorious life giving sun is finally out on the UK.. This looks really good to me. Unfortunately being at 'work' and having to earn a 'wage' means I can't fully enjoy it in the week, which is a shame. Is there anyone else out there with the same problem as me?

I bet there would be nothing finer than being out in the sun, drinking a nice cool lemony drink, reading your favourite copy of Woman's Weekly and lying on top of a massive ice cube as big as a Vauxhall Astra. How heavenly does that sound?

But, you know, its an odd thing, this sun malarkey.. I don't like getting too hot, as I'm already a natural radiator. However, dressed in the right fatigues, nice and cool and.. well, minimal (I don't make a habit of taking off my t-shirt as I tend to make babies cry and flowers wilt at the sight of my monstrous gut..) I can love the heat as much as the next prawn.

Ah well, with the impending summer coming up, its only a matter of time before at the weekends, everyone runs to the country or the beach and we get the 'scorcher' headlines in all of the lovely guttery press. Barbeques will become the social event and indeed the only way to eat outside. Lollies and wasps will become the standard way of cooling down whilst baking in the ultraviolet riot.

Sitting down at 11 at night will feel all the more welcoming on a Friday night when you realise- 'Oooh! You've caught the sun!'.. Cool daddio.

I can't ruddy well wait my peeps, I can't wait. Lets just please hope its keeps this way by all constantly praying for loads more of this bright yellow ball in space.

Above: The sun yesterday. Hotter than an oven or the filling in a freshly heated Fray Bentos meat pie, apparently.

Liberation, isolation, ill communication

2006-04-23T18:15:00.000+01:00

I think I knocked my mobile telephone whilst away on the school trip.

I turned it on a week and a half ago and the little screen came up, then promptly turned off.

"Funny" I thought to myself whilst staring at a dead phone. "It's not meant to do that."

But it did. I tried to turn it on again. And it turned on, came up with the welcome screen and then- OFF.

"Ah" thought I. This mobile 'phone is fairly new, about 3 weeks old so I wasn't expecting anything to go wrong with it. But of course I should never assume these things, and go wrong it has done.

I've sent it off to be fixed and so I'm waiting for it to be sent back.

So now.. what do I have?

Silence. Total silence. No messages, no-one ringing me. I am the 'billy no mates'. I'm sure many people think I'm rude. Or dead. Or both combined.

I have found instances when this has been a Royal Pain in the Arse as was demonstrated in my recent trip to North Wales with my lovely PPQ. We stayed at my dads cottage but when we turned on the washing machine and noticed water dripping into the downstaitrs bedrooms it was very difficult to contact my dad to tell him we were making an aquarium out of the spare room.

Just imagine it. I mean, how many phone numbers do you actually know off the top of your head. When it came to crunch who would you phone if you had no phone?

Well it was difficult, let me tell you that. You really do feel disconnected from your life, which sounds vapid and shallow and by god, it is. I eventually found dads number but I had to go around the houses to do it.

I have an address book at home which has some of the numbers on my phone, but not all of them.

So now I'll just wait.. Wait for my phone to come back in one piece and hopefully don't knock it again.

Lest We Forget

2006-04-10T07:23:00.000+01:00

I didn't get much sleep last night. But then again, for one reason or another I haven't slept properly since Wednesday night of last week.

I've just come back from a 4 day school history trip to France with Year 10. I had to get up at 3am on Thursday morning to arrive at school for 5am and then leave at 5.30am.

The whole point of this trip was to visit the World War 1 sites situated in Northern France. This meant going to various cemeteries, memorials and later on for studying WW2, disused underground missile bases. Its been 4 days non- stop with kids who are; well, not noisy so much, but there is always a wall of sound wherever you go. Plus the fact that halfway through this journey it became my Easter break so in effect I'm working two days of my holiday. But I didn't mind. And all of those late nights telling the kids to be quiet in their rooms is not the reason why I'm so restless now.

Since setting off for this trip I've gone through many different emotions. I've had such a good time, not only with having a laugh with the rest of the staff after the day is done but also just talking to the kids, suddenly after and away from school both staff and teachers take on a far more relaxed role, whereby you can get a chance to talk to each other. In that way I suppose its been good to get to know some kids a bit better, some kids I'd never taight before and who I'd have probably never really noticed in school on a normal day.

I've also felt deeply saddened by a lot of what I've seen and heard.

All that I can say is that it has been the most interesting and thought provoking trip away I've ever had. I've learnt so much, at times I felt like a pupil myself, like sitting and listening intently the coach would pull up outside a cemetary and get a commentary from the history teacher as to it's signifiance.

Sorry, I don't usually do sombre posts but this whole experience has really affected me. And in a weirdly positive way. I'm glad I've seen evidence of what really happened, to see the trenches, the front lines, the photgraphs of war casualties that have never been publically accessible but give a more honest account of what happened.

I thought I knew about WW1 just from textbooks, films and documentaries on television. But to be there, to see all of the names carved in stone and the countless wreaths laid out, sometimes one on top of another; complete with notes from loved ones who will never forget. One wreath written by a great grandchild stated "You were so brave, we still love and miss you so much".

But I arrived back home last night around 9 o'clock. I came home, put my stuff down and away and talked to my lovely PPQ on the phone. I was a bit tired and just wanted to go to bed. But I couldn't sleep because I could not get the ideas and themes that had been covered in the trip out of my head. The sheer amount of deaths and casualties in WW1. ..The lack of communication from all sides.. ..The pain suffered by soldiers in the trenches... ..The designing of missiles and rockets for the first time that could cause major destruction... All of these reasons and more compounded together to create a real and definite thought- provoking reality. A confusion to attempt to place yourself in that time and try to comprehend the sheer weight of ones existence in a time of conflict.

I can't get these thoughts out of my head. They're still here now as I write this. When I think about the act of rememberance now, I think I can see it from a different viewpoint- a way of praising those who fell because that's all we can do, is to keep remembering.

If you ever get the chance do go and visit these places, you'll see for yourself another side of the wars that can't be understood by any means other than actually being there.

You talkin' to me?

2006-03-30T21:27:00.000+01:00

I'm in class, standing up, taking questions... "Come on, hit me with one..."

A pupil looks at me, raises the hand and asks a question.

I look at them and give them a lengthy answer. Whilst I'm doing this it looks like they are understanding exactly what I'm saying. They almost look like they're looking right through me.

After my satisfactory answer I ask if that's ok for the pupil.

The same pupil looks at me, raises the hand and asks the same question again.

? Wha- ?

I'd spent all that time explaining the answer to them, but they had thought I was talking to the person behind them.

I repeat the answer and smile on the inside. The pupil sees the funny side as they remember what I had just said not less than 30 seconds ago. And that what I had said less than 30 seconds ago had weirdly actually answered their question anyway.

Such golden nuances happen every day in my line of work. It's what gets you through the day...

Sorry...

2006-03-13T19:31:00.000+01:00

...to interrupt this moment of beauty but this is supposed to be a blokey blog. It's all getting a bit mushy, so on to something far less significant.

Is anyone else getting a bit pissed off with Colin fucking Murray? Not only do I have to put up with his stupid irish twang everytime some record company want to advertise their band on TV but now he's doing the football on Channel 5! And wearing fucking glasses to make himself look knowledgable! What next? Edith Bowman presenting Tomorrow's World?

Talk amongst yourselves...

Horse and..

2006-03-05T23:40:00.000+01:00

I've been racking my small brain for a good 4 minutes trying to think of an adequate way of saying this... You see, something's happened and I think you should know about it..

It's a bit radical, but lovely...

No, I'm not gay..

Neither is Crumb..

Or maybe he is..

(He's not I assure you..)

Well, it runs along the lines of something like, the way of saying, with all things considered at the end of the day of the day at the end of... erm..

Me and PPQ are engaged!

...That's it really, don't want to get too soppy or mushy here but basically we're going to get married! Who'd have thunk it! More soon no doubt fellow bloglies... x

p.s. the connection with the title of the post is "Carriage".

Sixth Sense?

2006-02-26T11:45:00.000+01:00

Many people are lucky enough to have friends who they consider their 'nearest and dearest', their closest friends, those that they can call upon in times of difficulty or hardship. I'm fortunate enough to have a group of such friends. Friends who keep my chin up and my feet on the ground.

Sadly though, almost all of these friends are spread out around the country, I see some of them regularly, but not as frequently as I would like. In some cases I see them very rarely. We live in different cities and we are busy with our own lives, I guess it's just the way of things as you get older.

But one friend, who I may not see for months at a time - and who I don't even speak to that often - seems to have the incredible ability of randomly popping up when I most need someone. I remember years ago, crying my eyes out over something and just as I pulled myself together the phone rang - it was him. He made me laugh in his own loud, rude, un-PC way and effortlessly lightened my mood. I never told him I was down that day, I didn't have to.

And right now I find myself feeling pretty low and in real need of a pick-me-up. Who should call? For the first time in at least 18 months, completely out-of-the-blue he's in Bristol on Monday night. It's almost like I could have set my watch by him. Cometh the hour, cometh the Cant. You're a legend mate - and you are most, most welcome.

BAFTA Baffler

2006-02-20T19:11:00.000+01:00

Okay help me out. The nominees for best film at the BAFTAS were 4 non-British films:

Brokeback Mountain
Crash
Capote
Good Night and Good Luck

and 1 British film:

The Constant Gardener.

Therefore, surely by default, this makes The Constant Gardener the best British film of the year doesn't it? Surely 'best British film' is a sub-category of 'best film'?

So how come Wallace and Gromit wins Best British film then? I don't get it. I just don't get it...

Heaven Help Us

2006-02-15T19:40:00.000+01:00

Right - you know that when you die you supposedly either go to heaven or hell?

(just realised what a silly question that is - even if you don't believe it the concept isn't exactly alien is it? Durr..)

Well, lets say you live to 95 years of age, having led a pure and meaningful life. You've done charity work, helped others, never been unfaithful, generally been an all-round top dude. You're going to go to heaven.

But! Do you go to heaven as that 95 year-old crumbly? Or do you go as a person in their prime? I'd like to think that if I go to heaven (which is obviously a given) that I'll go as the handsome, charming young man I am now. (And equally the ladies I meet in heaven will all be at their physical peak and keen for a bit of sin to make up for all those years spent being good on Earth.)

Basically guys, is heaven an old people's home? Does it smell of biscuits and wee? If so, I'm taking up armed-robbery.

Got Any ID?

2006-02-08T19:32:00.000+01:00

I haven't.

At least I don't think I have. I was born and brought up in Somerset, but I don't live there anymore and I don't have a Somerset accent. This has got me thinking.

Over the last few years many of my closest friends have moved away from Somerset, if my parents were to move away too I'm worried I'd loose the strong connection I have with the place. I might no longer be identifiable as a Somersetian. That really makes me sad - because I love it there.

I guess it's not unusual for people to have a dislike for aspects of the place they're from - but I never wanted a Somerset accent. I never wanted to sound like a farmer. Let's be honest, there aren't many folk who've made it big sounding like Adge Cutler's gardener. So when I moved away from Somerset, I was pleased that people had no idea where I was from - assuming my middle-english accent meant I was from somewhere in the home counties, or had been sent from heaven to protect the world.

Times change, and now I appear to have become a city boy by accident. Just one of tens of thousands of faces who passes through a concrete jungle each day. Unknown and nondescript. It isn't me - but then again I'm still not sure what is.

Maybe if I had a Somerset accent I'd feel a sense of identification with my roots or have a feeling of belonging somewhere. I guess there's a part of me that wishes I did sound like a farmer - or maybe even that I was one. A tweed-clad, hay-chewing bumpkin with a sheepdog and a jolly wife who can't stop baking.

Mind you, it's a bit cold for farming at the moment though isn't it? Perhaps I'll become an oven, a sunbed, or maybe even a fleecy glove. Mmmmm...

Archaeologist Popularity

2006-02-06T20:02:00.000+01:00

It's just dawned on me... What is the best Indiana Jones film?

I don't think I'd ever thought about it in any great depth...

Raiders of the Lost Ark- The original and best? Conplete with nazis, snakes and Pat Roach?

The Temple of Doom- Scarier, faster and full of elephants and 3 little glowing rocks?

The Last Crusade- the funniest, complete with Sean Connery more nazis and a little backstory?

Personally I'd go for Raiders only because my friend had it on Beta Max years ago and we always watched the bit where all the baddies faces melt at the end.. Is that a decent reason to keep Raiders at the top? I don't know.

Thoughts please.

Above: Why Indiana couldn't just go over to the bookcase and pick up "Archaeology Today" was beyond anyone.

Mp3 Empathy

2006-02-01T23:21:00.000+01:00

(If you want to skip the gloomy woes of a man digitally brokenhearted, best skip to the end of this entry. If not; read on buster!)

Please no. Please please for the love of all things sweet, no.

Too late.

It's already happened to me...

Last night, everything seemed to be going fine, we'd had a perfect relationship up until then. Ok. Sometimes you didn't seem interested and just ran out of steam with me. Sometimes you just froze up on me when I needed you the most. But most of the time? Usually? You were perfect. As perfect as any little iPod could be...

And last night as I played 'Won't get fooled again' on my stereo and jammed with my new guitar to your golden tones, nothing but nothing seemed would ever get in our way...

But tonight, on the way back from work, I turned you on, and there were no songs, no artists, no playlists.. Nothing...

Your memory said you were full, but there was no-one home. Aghast, I brought you home as quickly as I could, as if rushing someone to hopsital. I plugged you into PC motherboard central, she'd have the answer..

But she didn't. You were corrupted, you were ill and you weren't making any sense. You, my lovely little Ipod who I'd gotten to know for just under a year, were in the final stages of your life...

I wiped you completely and restored you to your factory settings just after 6 o'clock. Something died inside because I knew you'd never be the same again, you poor little thing. The iPod I'd nutured all those months, lost in a moment of re-formatting...

Soon after you emerged a new iPod, with a new name and very little songs. I added what tunes I could off iTunes but essentially you were like a regenerated Doctor Who, the same but completely different...

And now you sit on the study table, motionless, innocent and completely unaware as to the world you once inhabited but now must inhabit again...

(In a nutshell and to cut the crap from above: My iPod died, had to re-format it. A fortnights worth of music down the khazi. Buggery.)

The Undead: A rant

2006-01-28T16:04:00.000+01:00

Damn them all. Oh, hang on, it looks like they already are.

I hate the undead, more specifically I hate zombies. Personally I find them quite scary and not very nice to look at. If I was walking down an alley and suddenly found myself surrounded from both sides by the little sods I'd think that would probably be my all time number one fear.

However, I also realise that this fear is completely unfounded and irrational on my part. "Zombies" do not really exist (No, seriously, they don't, I've looked) and so any almighty fear about them would seem silly, childish and silly.

But fear them I do. Now, I'm referring of course to the hollywod style zombies that were almost the total brain child (brain-zombie?) of a certain George Romero who made 'Night of the Living Dead' all those years ago and spawned a highly lucrative horror sub- genre. I'm not really concerned with the classic 'zombie' that comes from voodoo folklore. Those 'zombies' are fine. They're just simple brainwashed peasants who don't know any better. They're ok. Infact I quite like the idea of a brainwashing.

It's when you see all those manky bits of skin and flesh and sometimes even a twiglet of bone poking out here, there and everywhere. No-one wants to see that! Put it away why don'cha!..

Ah, whats the point, they never listen anyway...

But coupled with this pointless fear of the those shuffling twats, I also have a bone to pick with them (insert bone picking/ flesh eating pun here). I can understand how other horror characters work themselves pretty much. Vampires are understandable, Frankenstein- logical, Werewolves- textbook. But zombies just make up the rules all to themselves. They're like uppity 3 year olds at a birthday party. This is what I mean...

Scenario A

A zombie bites on a living human. The human soons becomes a zombie themselves.

Scenario B

A zombie bites on a living human. Then the zombie continues chowing down until there's not much left of the living human (probably less than living by this time)

Surely this means zombies have a decision making process in thei heads- meat or mate. Shall I eat him or greet him? They basically determine whether the victim is to be devoured or become another zombie.

Well how bloody selfish is that?

And how do they manage to walk around (let alone 'run' like some recent zombies movies have made out they can do)? For god's sake, some of them don't even have calves!

And hang on a second. If zombies eat flesh why don't they eat themselves or other zombies? I for one am fucking confused by this. They make little sense and I don't like them.

As Alan Partridge once said:

"Zombies, by their very nature, are inconsistent."

Above: Alan scares the living shit out of a hotel receptionist

p.s. I probably shouldn't have admitted the fact that I like brainwashing, it may have made me out to look like a bit of a dick.

I thought about the army...

2006-01-22T22:51:00.000+01:00

...If you knew of a highly dangerous man who by all accounts stood against everything you and your society was based on and who was currently running amok and causing thousands upon thousands of pounds in damage all across your beloved land you'd want to sort him out sharpish, right?

You'd want to release merry hell on this indivudal and show him the error and short- sightedness of his ways by unleashing the full awesome firepower and sheer manpower of the armies of your land upon him, surely.

Fine, but don't dispatch one weeny 'war rocket' and give it the toilet clean related name of 'Ajax'. I mean, what the f*** was the army division of Mongo thinking? That shitty little cloud-hopping banger couldn't strike fear into the heart of a Axminster sofa. If they had hearts.

Get it right next time, dipshits.

Above: Gordon upsets the tube again, strikes likely.

School and my suit

2006-01-10T19:37:00.000+01:00

I thought I'd smarten myself up to go to work. I usually wear really crap clothes to work (tan chinos, leather trainer/shoes, all very lazy and not professional looking at all) but this week I decided to wear a proper suit.

Yes, I shocked everyone, staff and pupils alike with my new found look.

Even if one of my students said I look like a gay bank manager...

So I gave him detention...

Then an interest free overdraft.

I Am Jimi Hendrix

2006-01-02T19:12:00.000+01:00

The above statement has very little truth in it. It IS true that I did treat myself over the xmas period to a delicious wah-wah pedal from a swift visit to Tin Pan Alley where I also bought a sneaky leccy guitar too.

With the pedal and the guitar I do feel a bit like Mr. Hendrix but as I have slightly f***ed up teeth, I doubt I'll ever be completely adept and playing the axe with my gnashers much to my disappointment. And like I say, I only feel like him, I could never do all of those blinding solos, mostly the best I could achieve would be a wah-wah version of 'Paddy McGinty's Goat.'

I can but I can keep practicing...

Above: My geetar.. kind of..

p.s.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Chris Mass

2005-12-21T08:23:00.000+01:00

The eagle eyed among you may already know that I love to use this poem below every xmas. I have no inspriation at the mo, so I thought I'd get it out again! All thanks and kind permission (even though I can't ask him) to Neil Gaiman on being an amazing wordsmith.

...And have a happy xmas everybody!

Nicholas Was...

older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die.

The dwarfish natives of the Arctic Caverns did not speak his language but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.

Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting into Endless Night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves' invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozen in time.

He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harsher.

Ho.
Ho.
Ho.

Computer Games..

2005-12-07T22:26:00.000+01:00

..Are weird. When you think about what you're doing, it's just downright ..odd.

Like the other day when me and Crumb were playing Mario kart on the Nintendo Gamecube. I mean, who thought that a tiny plumber and his brother could take on a massive dragon, a gorilla and his son, and an evil version of himself and his brother whilst being in cahoots with a princess and a mobile, talkative piece of fungus?

(A) Who the hell thought it up?

(b) Why the fuck can they all drive cars?

(3) Isn't it high time we had normal proper games where everything is just fine and makes sense most of the time? Games like "Making A Cup Of Tea", "Adventures in Having A Poo", "Power-napping in the afternoon Part 2" or "Washing the Car".

Just think of thr amount of skill and endurance you would need with most of these titles. They'd blow most modern day so-called 'arcade games' out of the bloody water, probably.

Above: Pacman, pictured inside a computer eatin' loadsa ghosts and funny lookin' pills, yesterday.

An Entry Concerning Bonnie Tyler Who Is Pictured Below

2005-11-28T21:34:00.000+01:00

Above: Ms Tyler, looking bonnie.

My dad has just bought Bonnie Tyler's greatest hits, called "Bonnie Tyler: All The Best".

It's a 3-CD bonanza of shouty welsh lady soft rock.

It has such unforgettable aural gems such as "Lost In France", "Against the wind" and "It's a heartache"- which is actually repeated on two separate CD's.

Not that anyone bothered to check up on this mistake. Or check that these songs were actually termed as "hits".

When you think of Bonnie Tyler, do you automatically start buzzing in your head:

"Once upon a time I was fallin' in love.. and now I'm only fallin' apart.. nothing I can say.. a total eclipse of the heart.."

...Because that's what I'd think. I can remember back in the early 90's in some parts of North Wales, it was the last 'ironic' song of the night in pubs and clubs from Pwllheli to Prestatyn, but I'm sure if you had rewound a good ten years, that same song would still be played in those pubs and clubs but with not an ironic gesture in sight. A nice cheesy power ballad, complete with a very distrurbing video concerning school boys who have flourescent eyeballs.

And seeing as that's her only real song ever, everything else she has produced since, I'm sure, is just toilet.

Well, "Eclipse" is not on any of the 3 CDs, and I feel bad because my dad's paid for it. Worse still, he's downloaded it into my Itunes library for Pete's sake. I might accidentally pick it up on my Ipod and then start listening to her. That'd be the stereo version of suicide.

I wish her well, and long may she reign in faraway Eastern bloc countries, but right here, right now, on my Ipod and with her obscure so called hits, I have no cause or need for her.

Please Ms Tyler, hop it from my life.

Scarecrows don’t have to be scary!

2005-10-31T13:40:00.000+01:00

A topic of much controversy I’m sure you’ll agree…

I’m really starting to have my doubts that before the first scarecrow was built anyone actually bothered to carry out a sufficiently large scale demographic test on a range of crows from across crow society – to see what really made them tremble.

It is because of these doubts that I propose that there is no value whatsoever in making your scarecrow scary.

You see, I’m not convinced that your average crow really has the intelligence to make a distinction between the facial expressions of those stick-men erected to frighten them off. Essentially a scarecrow is an artificial person-shaped thing that stands in the middle of a field right? So what if you made a mock-up of the Queen Mother, and stuck her out there? Would your crows be going “Ahhh, she looks really sweet and kind! She’s not going to begrudge us lunch!” Then swoop down and fill their little crow-boots with corn? I don’t think so. I don’t think it matters one jot.

The word scarecrow surely derives from ‘to scare crows’ – but somewhere along the line some bright spark has decided that this means your scarecrow has to look like the lovechild of Freddie Kruger and Sian Lloyd. Not the case folks! The next time you make a scarecrow, don’t waste your valuable time and resources creating some sort of Frankenstein’s monster for your meadow, try making it look like Miss Marple, I think you’ll find her equally effective! In fact, don’t even bother with a face. Get yourself a couple of poles and a red coat, it’ll be alright.

Glad we've got that one sorted out.

Someday I'm Crumbing Back

2005-10-29T10:14:00.000+01:00

Greetings folks! After a six month period of self-imposed blog celibacy I'm back in the harness. I have somewhere to a live, a functional PC and a heck of a lot to say for myself!

Now then, I used to have some readers. Are any of you still there? I never stopped lovin' yas, it just all went a bit tits-up for half a year!

Of course, I've got absolutely toss-all of any interest to say today. Unless anybody knows whether or not hot water actually DOES make a different noise to cold water when you pour it? Or why you never see a dirty rabbit?

Okay then, I'd best go visiting...

Just Wait!

2005-10-20T19:18:00.000+01:00

"Good things come to those who wait" allegedly.

Well, it's not always true. If you're competing in a marathon and when the gun sounds to start the race, you choose to wait instead of run, you're bound to lose the race. This isn't a good thing.

Equally, when cooking a meal, if you place the food in the oven and simply wait - it will eventually burn. Again, this is not generally thought of as a good thing.

Whilst being held hostage in Beirut, Terry Waite had to wait. He had little else to do except wait and perhaps consider whether he was losing weight. Eventually Terry was released, thus proving that a far better saying that "good things come to those who wait" would be:

"If you wait like Terry Waite waited, good things will happen"

Under Par

2005-10-16T17:52:00.000+01:00

When you're ill life loses some of its shine. You lose taste for things, you don't want to do some of the things you usually enjoy. If you do force yourself to get around and actually do those things you usually enjoy you end up getting upset because its not as much fun as it usually is... Ok so far?

When you're ill everybody else in your life gives off the impression of being aliens from another world who are vibrant, exciting, jumpy and ready for anything. You feel as though you're the only person to have come from the planet Feelshitallthetime. Everybody on this planet is grey, grumpy, full of snot and watches daytime telly...

Everybody else run circles around you at light speed whilst you just grump around feeling sorry for yourself, feeling like you want to be those happy springy aliens and remembering a time when you once felt like that, although it feels like it was years ago...

I'm one of those grumpy aliens. And I really resent having to feel like this. I really resent feeling like this again this month. *** RANT ALERT: *** I mean, doesn't this just say something about me??- about my state of mind, my diet and things that I may think about from time to time? Or something that I can't even begin to classify? Ahh... Forget it. I'm ill. I'm being silly. It must be my lack of vitamin E talking...

Both myself and the girl have both been feeling this way all weekend. Sore throat, congested, achy, coughing, tired, temperature (up and down) and a general "I want to stay in bed" mentality throughout.

To all of the ill people out there right now- I salute you one and all! It's officially rubbishy-cack!

Wisdom Pearl Nugget: Part 1, Episode 1, Vol 1.

2005-10-11T21:13:00.000+01:00

Do you like drinking water?

If you do, you may have gone out to the newsagents or any licensed water seller and bought a bottle of mineral water taken from the fridge (frosty! yet covered in condensation..) or just nabbed off the shelf (although then its warm and rank).

You may have found that a lot of these bottles have those caps that pop up for you to drink from and then when you push the cap down it secures it, making sure the water doesn't escape, however hard you try!

You probably don't need any of your really important documents inside your bag that you're about to take to work covered in water; it doesn't look cool and there's something just not quite right about it..

Therefore readers, always make sure that after you've filled up your bottle of water for the day, that you secure the cap DOWN again before putting it into your bag again; otherwise you could be in for a water-ridden surprise!- like exactly what happened to me this bloody morning... Fannies.

Berfday

2005-10-03T22:11:00.000+01:00

Don't tell no-one right, but it's Crumb's birthday today. He'll be 48 years old (Don't you know that Crumb's my dad?).

He's in Tenerife at the moment soaking it up with Worzel (you remember Worzel right? Did one post here and then buggered off for a year)..

Anyway, I thought it'd be nice to wish him a happy birthday,

*everybody-*

"
For he's a jolly good fellow,
Who looks very good dressed in yellow,
Looks nothing like Marti Pello..
And so say all of us!
"

HIP HIP HOORAY, HIP HIP HOORAY, HIP HIP HOORAY!

...Here's to friends that never change, just age ever so slightly from year to year.

Sod them all...

2005-09-26T17:59:00.000+01:00

...because I enjoyed myself so much on Friday, I'm going to blog in work today.

Earlier in the year I booked a villa in Tenerife for me and my girlfriend. When we sadly split up in April I decided that I would keep the booking and take a good friend along. Sadly that friend is Worzel.

Yes folks me and Worzel are going to Tenerife for a whole week this Friday. (imagine that - me and Worzel not blogging for a week!) We have a small, romantic retreat booked in the mountains. I just hope he doesn't make my whole week...

And I'm no werewolf, I don't have a particularly hairy back - and what hair I do have is blondy and largely undetectable. However I have recently become aware of a bit of darker sproutage up around the shoulder area. It isn't a look I'm fond of, so it had to go.

Yup, yesterday my little sister waxed my back. And I have never ever seen anyone take so much pleasure out of having so much power. The absolute psycho.

And how quickly one learns lessons. Don't spray body spray onto waxed shoulders. You might cry.

Not PC

2005-09-23T19:40:00.000+01:00

Ahoy. It's fair to say that things have been pretty one sided on this alleged 'joint-blog' of late and it's about time I explained why. Imagine this ladies and gents - I currently do not have access to a computer!

(Ah - that's clearly a steaming great fib isn't it? Evidence suggests otherwise...)

Okay, despite currently using a computer, I don't actually have access to one very often. My employers are cracking down on web usage and I am currently between residences. I am sort of homeless, and have been since April. I've found that you can't really plug in a PC when living under a canal bridge.

BUT! By the end of October I will be moving into a new gaff and will be back. So you TML will once again be graced with beautiful prose, instead of Bonbon's tired old daily shite.

And who knows - when I'm regularly blogging again perhaps my rumored best mate will REMEMBER TO TELL ME ABOUT FACKIN BLOGMEETS! Thanks to those of you who said it would have been nice to meet me - I can assure you that it wouldn't - but bless you for the sentiment.

Sparrowhawks or Doug Mountjoy?
C x

Good Morning Britain

2005-09-20T20:40:00.000+01:00

The fog has barely risen over the ancient Malvern hills...

Most people are still in bed...

The birds are still sleeping in their beds inside their semi- detached trees.

All is silent and still...

Dead to the world, is the world...

Dawn has not yet er, dawned...

As Nina Simone once sang, "It's a new dawn, its a new day-" NO! Not yet Nina! Hush! Pipe down lady!.. Shhh....

...

All is still very still.

The sun is just about to flirt with the horizon all bleedin' day long...

Things are about to start waking, up.. life will begin its noisy, moving, talking, walking events all over again very soon...

Yes, it is around this time in the morning that Bonobo screams down country roads of Herefordshire playing Tears for Fears' greatest hits at volume 11 in his fairly nippy and ickle blue car.

Suddenly birds spring up from their beds to the haunting strain of "Woman In Chains"...

Many birds, especially the Woodland Pap Sparrow and the Tail- Fenned Clubhumper are huge fans of 80's pop and are glad to hear these sounds. Other birds such as the Minstrel Gummed Cat Quacker are no loyal fans- just die hard indie rockers; but they pay it no mind, chalking it up to other birds being merely 'retro' and 'ironic' in their musical outlook. These birds may not last the winter.

The fog begins to make its way over the hilltops as the air starts to slowly heat up.

All animals are waking from their slumber such as badgers, squirrels, sheep, cows and horses (are these all of the animals that live in the country? oh wait.. voles and bees too) . It is their time on the world and they all go downstairs to have their cereal, but of course the horses would eat their cereal in a nosebag with a bit of milk in it and the bees would all eat Honey Nut Loops. And I think Badgers just have toast.

In their fields, their setts, their stables they slowly start the day. But in the distance they can only see a little blue blur whining across the countryside. It's Mr. Love again.

Bonobo has no intention of having breakfast or slowing down the car until he reaches school. He is on a mission. After sleeping like a very habitual insomniac who is kept awake at night anyway by living next door to a drum testing factory, Bonobo set off, kind of pissed that his sleep was taken away from him and just eager to get on with the day.

He arrives at school, which he finds.. is still closed. Bonobo checks his watch and winces immediately like a boy who trapped his fingers in the glass doors of a video and tv cabinet.

A note in the school bulletin the day before noted that;

"School opens at 7.40... No earlier"

His watch reads 7.10. Funking Rats.

...(i forgot rats- rats live in the country too)

The Saturday blogmeet..

2005-09-18T21:40:00.000+01:00

..was brill!

I don't want to say too much about it, I'm sure what I want to say has probably already been thought or posted elsewhere by other bloggers, but still..

- Lovely to meet other bloggers who are really real and really human.. Everyone I met was friendly sincere, funny and welcoming..

- Refreshing to meet some bloggers who, through complete ignorance and fault of myself, have never got around to reading their blogs. I felt a bit funny chatting to some bloggers who I'd only heard of in name only.. (But that'll change after spending the last hour just trawling over the vast interweb of various blog sites. It's good to have variety don't you agree?)

- Bloggers are in a nutshell, beautiful people.. I'm glad to be one too!

- And.. I feel an absolute twat for not asking Crumb if he wanted to come! After all, this is a joint blog ferchrissakes! He seemed ok with it but said he was more than able to come IF HE'D BEEN ASKED... Ah well.. Next time dude..

*Bonobo slinks away and leaves the country*

Simply Super

2005-09-11T18:00:00.000+01:00

After the first week of school I really needed to let my hair down.

Myself and Crumb went to see the Super Furry Animals at the Palace in Bridgwater.

After the gig, both of us agreed that we had never stood so close to the front of a SFA gig (we're both big and frequent SFA botherers when time and distance allows..).

It was awesome, truly awesome, and SFA never fail to deliver when it comes to the quality of their live sound.

Their set can sometimes be predicatble, but its a 'good' kind of predictable. You always know they will finish with 'The Man Don't Give A F***', to which the audience usually goes batshit to anyway. You always know that they give it their all when they perform and they are really into their music.

They're just a joy to watch and, I'm fairly envious of them. To be at the stage they are in life and doing the things that they do because they enjoy it must be very satisfying. Well done to them and long may they continue.

Ok, that's my muso rave for today.. Next week: Yazz and the Plastic Population...

Above: The very good Welsh band mentioned above this caption.

Ecological Balance Disaster!

2005-09-08T17:09:00.000+01:00

Police seized a couple of hundred grams of marijuana last week. A van with the illegal batch then drove to an undisclosed area in the countryside in order to destroy it by burning it.

The police had decided not to tell the forestry commission or any other countryside related groups. The police then set fire to the pile of drugs only to find a distraught park ranger running up to them. The park ranger notified the police that the fire was right next to a natural resting place for wild birds, especially terns.

However it was already too late. An investigation later after the fire revealed that no tern was left unstoned.

In Court

2005-09-05T17:43:00.000+01:00

A large room in near darkness.

Then the spotlight turns on and is lowered, shining with full harsh intensity down against a blank wall on Crumb and Bonobo who both cower like little mice caught by the farmer, you know, like mice tend to cower from farmers (n.b.: might need to change this metaphor later).

The Almighty Blog Judge who sounds like Orson Welles after a heavy night out decides to finally speak.

"Well... the summer's nearly over and we find that BOTH of you have shown little, nay, no interest in any blogging whatsoever. Furthermore you have shunned and ostrich- sized your fellow blogging community. What do you have to say about this? Hmm?"

Crumb pipes up.

"It was really nice outside and we just had to play some footba-"

"SILENCE!" roars the Judge, his fatty jowls tremble like cheeks made of jelly (n.b. check this one too..) under the anger. "Just because, as you say 'it was nice outside' gives you NO excuse for the blatent neglect of your blog. Bonobo, anything to add?"

Bonobo looks around the room deciding what to say. After a few moments he turns back to the hungover Orson Welles.

"Ermm.. Well, you see sir, I did have 6 weeks off school, but apathy just took me over and I ended up being very lazy. Well, we're both guilty here, we've both been very non- committal in our approach to this blog. Jesus, we're both so sorry... sir."

Crumb immediately interjects.

"Yeah! We can change! Everybody can change can't they? Please, give us another chance! Pleeease!"

The Judge looks at both Very-Sorry-Cowering-Like-Mice-Caught-By-The-Farmer-Figures in the darkness and passes judgement. Both; guilty. Both; sentenced to spend the rest of their days in the Phantom Zone like the baddies in Superman II.

Bonobo: "Rats."

Crumb: "Cocking rats."

(!)

Above: Crumb and Bonobo being setenced in a similar way to the method illustrated above, albeit minus a white-wigged Marlon Brando and 3 Super-Baddies. But the cool moving hoops were there.

The Friday Fuckwit!

2005-07-22T14:04:00.000+01:00

#32 Nick Pickard aka Tony Hutchinson
Ridiculously-Quiffed, Idiotic, Holly-Oaky, Fuckwit

Before anyone points it out - I realise that at the age of ‘almost-27’ I should have stopped watching Hollyoaks about 5 years ago. In some respects I did – well, I stopped concentrating on any form of ‘storyline’ back then. It appears though that despite not knowing what is going on in the show, the lure of at least 15 unfeasibly beautiful girls all living within 10 feet of one another still keeps me coming (back for more) of a Sunday morning, albeit with the sound turned down.

But every now and then I catch a scene featuring this absolute pillock, and it’s enough to really spoil the moment. It really baffles me how a character as awful as Tony Hutchinson has remained in the cast for so long.

Like many long-term soap ‘stars’, this character stopped adding anything to the show years ago. Look at Ken Barlow and Pauline Fowler – crusty old fools who the script writers seem to keep for purely sentimental reasons. Maybe it is just so they keep hold of an ‘original cast member. Apparently the same thing happened in ‘Neighbours’, where writers allegedly filmed 18 weeks-worth of footage featuring the late Helen Daniels when the actress was already dead. Of course, noone noticed.

It appears that Hollyoaks ran out of storylines for the character Tony Hutchinson ages ago. So in order to keep him they’ve made him into a sort of clownlike figure who experiences all manner of unlikely, ‘hilarious’ happenings not seen since ‘One Foot in the Grave’. He has so many sides to his character, from young entrepreneur to former porn star, from town council candidate to psychotic dog poisoner. It has just got beyond a bad joke that wasn’t even funny in the first place.

The answer as to how I rid myself of this irritation is perfectly clear. I stop watching yoof telly on Sunday mornings. Unfortunately, however big a tit Tony Hutchinson is, there are many many finer tits on show and it seems you can’t have one without the other - so I guess I’ll have to put up with him.

Mind you, he’s got me writing FF’s again, so he can’t be all bad…

A Public Service Announcement…

2005-07-21T18:46:00.000+01:00

...

*straightens tie and checks breath*...

*struts to centre stage*...

*mounts lectern and shuffles a handful of papers*...

*smiles and winks at a cute lady in the third row*...

*clears throat*...

"Ladies and Gentleman. Tomorrow, after an absence of some 5 months there will be, right here on this very weblog, the 32nd Friday Fuckwit"

*leaves*

*shags cute girl from the third row against dressing room door*...

Fu...

2005-07-18T21:24:00.000+01:00

-cking hell...

Just for the record, I just wrote a really long post tonight- AND THE GOD-DAMNED PC JUST CRASHED ON ME.

Sometimes I want to take a hammer to this damn thing..

One day I'll post it again, but it'll take me another 30 mins to write it out...

Hells bells and bloody ding dongs.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-07-11T22:12:00.000+01:00

Public Opinion: Much like the changing of the seasons and the tides of the sea, the Sunday Saviours appear nowadays at random times in the year. Not even on Sundays fercrissake.

Pubic Onion: Well, let's just say that after these next two weeks are up I'm going to be kicking back for a bit and will have some time to keep this lil' old site up and running proper like. Been a bit slack of late, both me and Crumb. I mean, you'd have thought with the two of us here, we'd be able to sort out stuff, like, well; post stuff.

Apparently not. I feel like a bit of a let down, so.. here's the next SS in a long time. Promise to make these a more common thing. Promise.

Ok. Let's get this sermon on the road as we step into the cool sanctums of The Church Of Praise, going a little bit more underground than before. We're going to hear this particular sermon in the cellar of the church. Come, please, it's this way. That's right, take my hand. Here we go, we're through the door now, just get down these old steps. I know it's a bit dark, there are no electrical lights here, only some torches at the bottom that we'll have to light. My, those steps are creaking aren't they? Not a lot of people come down here of late, too damp, the rot has set in, too dangerous... Some people even say it's haunted, but I reckon it's just their imagination. Big old building like this can do that. Ok, we're at the bottom, I'll just light this old torch here-

*click click*

-There we go, a little bit of light on the subject! Right. From here we'll give the sermon. It'll be good, I promise you. ait.. Did you- did you hear that? It sounded like a child's voice, over there in the corner... Almost sounded like laughing.. Did you just hear it? Did you- Wait! Where- where have you gone? Where are you? You were right in front of me and now you're gone!

*the torch is blown out*

Prayer No. 15: Stephen King

...Everyone loves to be scared every now and then don't they?

I love this guy, seriously love this guy. The first book I ever read of his was Pet Semetary and since then have been a life long fan.

I've not read The Green Mile. That's the only book of his I haven't read. He's just a very good storyteller.

His books make good films; Misery, The Shining, The Green Mile, The Shawshank Redemption, Stand By Me.. But not when he has a large part to play in them, either directing or writing the screenplay for; Creepshow, Maximum Overdrive, Stephen King's The Shining, Stephen King's Sleepwalker's...(He did help make Stephen King's The Langoliers- and I actually don't mind that particular celluliod gem..)

He has written some of the best horror fiction since, erm, Vincent Poe, or Edgar Allen Price. Think The Shining, think Salem's Lot, think Carrie, think IT, think The Stand (ok, more a story of Good Vx Bad for the freedom of the world than outright horror).. Think of unforgettable short stories (Night Shift, Skeleton Crew, Everything's Eventual) that will make you squirm in your bed late at night...

When I read Salem's Lot as a young impressionable teenager, each night, I wore a crucifix to bed, just incase one of those vampires managed to come to my window to try to lure me out.. Luckily I only ever got bothered by the Wolfman... And he only ever wanted to borrow some Pantene Pro-V..

Check out his works written with Peter Straub; The Talisman and Black House.. Also if you like a bit more fantasy, you may want to look out for his epic lifelong project The Dark Tower series, only recently finished which amazingly ties together many of his old stories.

Whatever it is you're looking for, Mr King will gladly oblige... Ok, I suppose it will need to have some horror in it at some point. Well, if you want high courtroom drama buy some Grisham or something. This man only deals in the BOO! business..

"Mr. King, you're scaring me... Thanks." B + C + w x.

London Bomb Attacks

2005-07-07T12:07:00.000+01:00

I just cannot understand this.

I hope everyone who lives in the capital is alright and that everyone you know, friends and family are safe too.

This is just wrong. Totally and utterly evil.

May those of you responsible for this terrifying act on innocent people trying to get on with their everyday lives pay for what you have done.

I suggest you burn in hell, forever.

Sets Please - We're British

2005-06-24T16:35:00.000+01:00

It’s been a while. But after a month or two on the sidelines I have dusted off my soapbox and am ready to face the world again.

It must be an amazing feeling to be the focus of national attention as sporting hero. Look at the likes of David Beckham, Jonny Wilkinson and Andrew Flintoff. These guys have the star appeal in their sports – they are the main men - but I can’t help wondering whether it would be a bigger buzz being an individual sporting icon rather than being part of a team. I mean, you have a bad day on a team, and chances are a team mate will help you out (or more likely you’ll get substituted!) Do they not say that no individual is bigger than the team?

With a sport like tennis the individual can go out there and do it all themselves. Be a hero. Perform magic. Take the crowd through all your emotions, the ups and downs, the disappointment and the jubilation

So - Andy Murray. Good lad. Well done that man. We’ll have some more of that son. Yes please. Plenty more.

But at the same time would the world please get off Tim Henman’s back. For fucks sake. Here is a guy who has done more for British tennis than anyone since Fred Perry – something like 70 years. Henman has reached 4 Wimbledon semi finals, before him we were chuffed if Jeremy smegging Bates got past round 1. When Tim came along the country got excited about tennis. There was a national belief in Henman, and on several occasions he looked as though he had the ability to deliver.

So reading on a chatroom earlier that…………… "Henman has always been a loser", and hearing my mate’s dad scoffing last night "The King is dead? Pah – Henman’s never been a king – a queen more like – the way he plays"……………just saddens the heart and makes me angry.

Okay so Tim has never won Wimbledon, and he never will win Wimbledon. But he came fucking close a couple of times, he held a ranking in the world top 20 for the best part of a decade and what he has done for the profile of the sport in this country should never be underestimated.

So he went out in Round 2? So what? Tim Henman is not a loser, in terms of British tennis, he is a legend – and he deserves far more respect than he is given by these narrow-minded wankers who call themselves sports journalists.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-06-21T06:35:00.000+01:00

I know it's a Wednesday instead of a Sunday...

Well, can you blame me? I thought Sunday, Monday and Tuesday were way too hot to do any kind of blogging. All I wanted to do was relax in the shade with a cool drink of kia-ora watching the day go by.

Which it did. But I had no kia-ora. Damn. And apparently someone also told me it's too orangey for crows. Double damn.

Anyway, let's keep the Church doors open this week shall we? It's getting hot in here, so take off any warm clothes you initially thought you needed to bring to this service but now don't.

This week a firm favourite I'm sure- not that I'm going for 'popular' characters you understand here.. No no no, I'm not all that sister, no not me. This guy, or rather these guys have shown us the full spectrum of time and space, and made us crap our pants from time to time.. Marks out of ten please..

Prayer No.14: Doctor Who

What started out as a humble children's television series in 1963 soon rocketed to become a science fiction mainstay in the BBC schedule...

Ok, possibly the coolest time traveller the world has ever known. Perhaps what makes him more special is the fact he travels through space and time not in a sleek chrome plated fusion powered hyperdriven particle fluctuator but an old fashioned police box...

The Doctor, in all his carnations has shown us all of the wonderous areas of the universe, but most of his adventures happen on earth and involve the the U.N.I.T. special trained task force or the police if things get out of hand.

He hates the Daleks.

The Daleks hate him.

He's a god-damned timelord. That means he's from Gallifrey and can regenerate when things get too tough. He can do many wondrous things with a sonic screwdriver. Can you do that? No. Didn't think you could.

I was an ardent fan as a little'un and it has taken me years to wean myself off it. It's just a shame that the BBC decided to make another series which has, in my humble opnion, proved to be abso-fab. And which has stirred my addiction once more (..did someone just say "geek"?- back of the class!)

He can be cunning, he can crack jokes, he can be deadly serious at times, he's loving to the people he meets; essentially he's everything your favourite uncle should ever be, apart from have two hearts.

"Thank you Doctor. You're a bloody crackin' timelord."- B + C + W x

(...Ok then, for those in the know and if you want to; list your favourite Doctor and why..)

Musical instruments

2005-06-16T18:26:00.000+01:00

The other week I ate a pot noodle (I'm sorry, it was an accident). I was surprised to find that I had won a Pot Noodle horn. I sent off the details via text message and I got a message back saying it would take about 10 working days to arrive. Today it arrived in the post and I must say I've never felt happier about any horn arriving through the postbox. It's awesome! It's so loud! But that's not the only musical instrument I've been excited about today...

I did no teaching today. Instead of a day filled with fulfilling the educational potential of my little darlings, I had a training course. It was held at school so I didn't have to travel very far. It was cool because I learnt a lot and ate a lot of free food.

Afterwards myself and a member of my department (Let's call him Badger, because actually that's his nickname- related to the fact that he, in some small way, resembles a badger) decided to amble off to the music department and rock out. I'd brought some drumsticks along with me that I'd once nicked off the stage after a Silver Sun concert back in the day, and Badger had brought his electrical axe. I thought, "Hell, I can just hit the snare, I've got a bit of rhythym, I can do it. It'll be drowned out by the guitar, after all Badger plays in a rock band outside of school."

We jammed for half an hour.

And today I realised I can drum! I can play the drums with drumsticks, I can bop the bass drum with my right foot, use the sticks to tom- tom the tom- toms and hit the snare again and again and hit the high hat like there's no tomorrow!

Ok, it was my first proper attempt and, at times I was cleanly forgetting to hit certain bits, I mean, you clearly are using four of your limbs to do different things a different speeds at different times...

...And I did sound very edgy and wooden I must admit, but hey, I'll also admit I was pretty dash good too because, well, I like to blow my own trumpet (or horn). At the end of the session Badger said I wasn't bad, and Badger had played some really sh*t hot guitar so I felt I had to return the compliment somewhat.

Ahhh.

I knew all of those years listening to the Zep would pay off.

Above: Bill Bruford, a drummer who does not resemble Bonobo Love in this picture but who is playing a drum kit for illustrative purposes.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-06-13T17:02:00.000+01:00

The time has come once again for you to put your sunday best on, that means your best suit, your best dress, your best pair of culottes, your best wig, your best vest, your best pipe and your most favourite episode of 'The Young Ones'.

Let's shut the door, rub down the altar (Why? I don't know, perhaps altars need rubbing a lot), light the big fat candles all around, put Judas Priest on half- speed and play the LP backwards and lower the goat into the-

-Sorry, wrong freakin' church!-

*runs out of the Pagan Institute For Hillbillies and runs back into the Church Of Praise*

...There, that's better. Everythings now ready. Let's get things moving shall we?

This guy (sorry, another guy here) has resulted in giving me countless nightmares of being trapped and bothered by certain undesirable types...

Ok, I'll cut to the chase- it's Zombies. Motherhumping zombies. I just can't stand them. If you listed my all time number one fear, it's bloody zombies and I mean BLOODY zombies. I don't even like typing out the word, so I'm going to stop. Let's just say, to this day, I still can't watch the video to 'Thriller' without leaving the room.

He's well known for being a bit of a frightmeister. He's probably not well known for anything else.

One (and there are a lot out there) of many influential and seminal directors to get our blood chilling to the bone and give us sleepless nights. (Yeah, thanks for that one dude..) - Remember, marks out of ten, comments as usual etc...

Prayer No.13: George A. Romero

Filmed on a shoestring, the first film in the series 'Night Of The Living Dead' paved the way for both the modern zombie (shit!) genre and the 'budget horror story' direction, later shown, but some may say not entirely copied in Tobe Hooper's 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' or Sam Raimi's 'Evil Dead'.

The original 'Dawn Of The Dead' (In my mind, the best and the 'worst' i.e. wet my pants scared 'worst') took the previous film one step further. Not only did it tell a story of survival of a selected few 'living' in a previously abandoned shopping mall, soon to be terrorised by countless undead but also took a sly shot at the idea of mindless consumer culture in America at the time... Some may argue this is still going on everywhere..

..Mmm.. Products.. Disposable plastic goods.. Good...

You can trace all of those b-list films made in the late 60's and early 70's that emulated the early work of Mr. Romero ('The Living Dead At The Manchester Morgue' anyone? Hmm.. ). I reckon some of them are probably worth a good look too...

Now the Zom- *cough* -bie is as marketable a product as, say Mickey Mouse, Beyonce Knowles or Cillit Bang. And this mainstay horror icon of the modern age is found everywhere.. Starring in romantic comedies (The brilliant 'Shaun of the Dead'), as undead 100 metre finalists ('28 Days Later') or computer games/ film adaptations ('Resident Evil').. Ok, not everywhere then.

Perhaps not the most consistent filmmaker to grace this earth, he did however give us all big, big frights, recurrent nightmares (Ah, perhaps that's just me) and an uncomfortable feeling of general "ooh, it's the end of the world, you have no chance of escaping these monsters however well you try and barricade yourself inside that farmhouse/ shopping mall/ police station/ insert easily penetrable building here" type of thang.

George will continue to scare the unliving shit out of you with his fourth film offering in the 'Dead' Series, 'Land Of The Dead'.

I for one, will not be seeing it in the cinema but will be a year or so after it's release on a portable VD player in the back garden on a summer's day with the sound turned right down whilst reading a book.

For everyone else, buy some adult-sized nappies now...

"Mr. Romero, I want to eat your brains!.. Only joking son." B + C + W x.

Query on arranged bricks, wood, metal and other resistant materials

2005-06-10T06:49:00.000+01:00

I'm thinking about buying a house.

Any tips from bloggers out there who have coughed up a pretty penny for some brixnmorta??

Any pearls of wisdom to offer or point me in the right direction as regards any pifalls, perils or problems I may encounter?

Honestly, I haven't got a facking clue what I'm looking for.

A few days back I even walked into a fish and chip shop and asked for a house, and the woman looked at me for a bit and then said "Sorry sir, this is a bank. In Australia." So I walked out and caught a plane back home.

Apologies for the week off/ The Sunday Saviour

2005-06-05T21:10:00.000+01:00

I've had a week off, spending most of it with PPQ.

It was a very relaxing time for both of us, yet.. even now..it feels like I've only just come back from a day at school.

I seemed to have been caught in a timewarp whereby everything that has happened over these past 9 days has occurred to me on the way back from work.

But the evidence is against me in this hypothesis.

The car is dirtier, ridden with bits of soil in the boot and empty bottles of drink in the front.

I have a hairy face, so I must not have shaved for a good while. It takes a good 9 days to create any kind of hair on my cheeks.

I have fridge magnets from Falmouth and Llandudno, areas of the UK far between.

I think I haven't just arrived from work, I did go on holiday. But it just went too quickly.

..In all seriousness, it was a lovely break. Cornwall and North Wales. Good stuff.

But like anything that you really really enjoy (-a night out with friends you haven't seen in ages or any other 'good time') and hope to carry on enjoying, it's over far too soon and you're left feeling just a bit cheated because you expected to go on more. Like a fairground ride when you were little.

*sigh* Never mind,.. I know that if I keep moaning I'll get a load of verbal about teachers getting too many holidays etc. so I'll quit on that one..

Ok. Now onto business. You may have noticed I've been slack of late. This is due to obviously not being near a computer, only a load of trees or water. And the last time I looked it was virtually impossible to post a blog using the branch of a horse chestnut or using a saltwater fish. Try it, it's bloody hard going.

This means NO SAVIOURS. Until now.

Without further ado let's just bring on the next saintly character of praise. He's been around before your dad probably. He's still working even now. He's very leathery. But you have to ask yourself one question.

...Do you feel lucky?...

...Well?...

...Do ya?...

...Punk?...

*sung in a high pitch* ...Waaa eee eeooww eee eeooowww....

Prayer No.12: Clint Eastwood

A living legend anyone?

Cowboy Clint: Perhaps singlehandedly reshaped the Wild West genre from the clean cut ranch dwellin' folk from 'Bonanza' into a more darker, deadlier, meaner and grittier place to be around (re: The Sergio Leone films, 'The Outlaw Josey Wales', 'Unforgiven')

Cop Clint: Invented the kick ass cop ('Dirty Harry', although you may argue Lee Marvin got there first in 'Point Blank', but then you could back even further.. Ok, but Dirty Harry had a really big gun right? Kickback could break your arm yeah?)

Comedy Clint: Worked with Clive, a huge orangutan who loved to smile a funny grin, drink beer and punch hell's angels whenever possible.

Other Clint: Has done a great many other cool films not rooted in the action genre. ('Play Misty For Me' to name one, and only one for now.)

Director Clint: Won an academy award for 'Million Dollar Baby'. *claps, fires gun into the air* Well done sir!

Ah..: Don't mention 'The Bridges of Madison County'.. Apparently not a lot of Clintophiles warmed to it. Me? Never seen it.. But from cowboys to bridges? Can't see box office potential there, sorry Mr. Eastwood... Never mind, you can't make an omelette without making a few bad films..

"Mr. Eastwood, you've clearly made my day." - B + C + W x.

I'm So Sorry For No Saviour

2005-05-24T21:54:00.000+01:00

Ah.

What can I say? Strike me down with all you have, I'm truly sorry there was no Sunday Saviour this week.

I have been a bit busy, but that is the general excuse for any kind of late correspondence to anyone, so it's an excuse. Not original, but an excuse nonetheless.

I will endeavour to provide you with a SS this coming Sunday, until then, here's the results from the Star Wars poll I did last week (not in a graph, erm, couldn't be arsed);

Mostest favourite: A tie between Return Of The Jedi and The Empire Strikes Back. A New Hope (Or 'Star Wars') was a close second.

Leastest favourite: Can you guess?... It WAS The Phantom Menace by a wide mile- margin, but one vote said that Jaws was the worst film (you know who you were!) so as the Americans would say and infact still do say, 'go figure'...

Right, I'm off to do shedloads of reports for the little darlings then look at all the other lovely blogs out there...

Keep clean, stay out of trouble. x.

Hey, teacher! Leave that kid alone (or simply stop swearing at them)

2005-05-18T21:59:00.000+01:00

Today I reminded my year 10 class that they would be taking their GCSE exam on Monday of next week.

I proceeded to go through revision of all of the applications they would cover in the 2 and a half hour exam.

It was late in the day and my brain was slightly fried owing to the large amounts of radiation eminating from the monitors, the interactive projector and the speakers on the wall next to me.

I also had drunk any liqiud since around 10 o'clock the previous evening.

So it came as little surprise when I included the words 'websheets and spreadshites' in my torrent of helpful revision based verbal communication.

Realising my near swearing I retracted and revised my statement much to the amusement and titterings of all concerned.

I don't know, kids can be so cruel sometimes...

p.s. I am forming the data for the Star Wars based popularity chart and I must say I am very impressed with the response so far..

Thank you all you lovely scruffy bunch of nerf herders! x

The Sunday Saviour

2005-05-15T08:32:00.000+01:00

*Barge, shove, poke, prod punch and pinch*

"Oi! Do you mind! *scuffle* You're not allowed into the Church of Praise unless I've said so!-

Oh, it's YOU sir.. I am SO sorry.. I didn't realise.. Please, go straight on in.."

A holy hello to all you folksies.

Glad you could make it back to the Cathedral of Congratulations.

Looks like this Sunday we have a once only saviour who actually wasn't on my list until quite recently. As in, he just barged past and let himself be known to all.

But I think he's worth it. I've had to allow him in on grounds of complete worthiness and also a particular relevance at this time of the year, perhaps what the germans may refer to as him being important to the overall zeitgeist which literally means a "zit-covered guest".

Not the most in depth reportage of a saviour we've ever had, but it seriously bloody well needs to be done.

Marks out of ten please.. This week, it's:

Prayer No.11: George Lucas

Where to start?..

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... (wonderful opening fanfare)!

He singlehandedly created a cultural phenomena which has invaded all of our lives.. (This can be be seen as both a good or a bad thing from a certain point of view!)..

The original "Star Wars" nearly never got off the ground due to financial constraints in so much as film distributors wanted creative control, but Mr. Lucas fought his corner and retained the franchise in order to create the sequels...

Just name any reference from any Star Wars film and remember, it came from this guy's head fer chrissakes...

*starts to weep* I'm sorry but he is just a legend, and beleive me when I say after this, I will not be harping on about anything Star Wars-ian again.. Hyuh, reet...

Go and see the new film. (Like I need to tell you..)

"George. You're one in a million. Now let's blow this thing and go home." B+C+W x.

(Added bonus; please name your best and worst Star Wars film. Once I have the results in I can make a graph showing most popular/ least popular. Man oh boy, this is gonna be good..)

2005-05-13T20:22:00.000+01:00

The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins- but in the heart of its strength lies weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back.

Love is more than a candle.

Love can ignite the stars.

- M. Stover.

..

The Sunday Saviour

2005-05-09T20:10:00.000+01:00

Yes, it's a Monday and it's late, I know I know.. I don't have any excuses here and I'm sorry for that.

Do you forgive my tardiness on this post?

Well, you're going to have to forgive me anyway as we move on...

Here's this week's jewel in the crown. Remember here at the church of praise give a mark out of ten for agreement or disagreement, even if you've never heard of the bugger.

This week my little beauties we've got a real treat for you ("Did you know that this little fella contains more vitamin C in it than a 100 oranges?")...

It can only be:

Prayer No.10: Major Les Hiddins (AKA Bush Tucker Man)

Yes, he's a Major incase you didn't know and was well versed in all things army like, although I don't think he ever killed a Illawarra Plum in cold blood/ juice without good reason to..

He was Steve Irwin, Ray Mears and your favourite Uncle rolled into one.. Not literally though, that would be hideous...

He made a boat from the bark of a tree and then proceeded to travel across croc infested waters.. What a brave man he was..

Some Bush Tucker Man quotes:

"You're probably wondering why I swam so fast across that river back there. The answer is that it's full of crocs!"

"All these creeks are named after people who died in the area. What I can't understand is how a bloke could die with so much tucker around." (points at yummy looking sand to illustrate.)

"See this little bloke? He's a Bush Almond. Superb Tucker! He's got 3 times the energy content of beef steak."

Think of this gem of a late 80's/ early 90's Australian TV import; and you may immediately think of other beauts such as "Home & Away" when it was worth watching, the superb yet crap lyricist "Pugwall" and the supernatural lighthouse- based antics of "Round the Twist"- ah, glory days...

Finally, he made the most fascinating and interesting programmes about life in the outback, showing us that it wasn't such a hostile and barren environment after all and that you could actually just, go travelling on your own and, well just survive and have a pretty good time...

"Can I have some water Les? I've been travelling for days and my lips have turned to sand. Cheers." - B + C + W x.

Pirate Fact Ahoy!

2005-05-05T20:50:00.000+01:00

Above: A pirate, yesterday.

Have you ever wondered why pirates wear eyepatches?

You know, you see them about town; drinking in pubs, playing with their pirate children in parks, buying pirate baguettes in patisseries and renting out pirate videos from blockbuster (sorry) and you start to wonder, why do they all wear eyepatches?

(Ok; I'm only kidding about seeing pirates in real life. Everyone knows they don't exist on mainland UK in this century) Well I just read on the back of a packet of balti chicken crisps that they wore the eyepatches because..

it helped cover up and make their eyes go very sensitive to the light so that at night they could navigate easier because their 'telescope eye' would be attuned to the night sky / dark conditions.

You see, it wasn't all bottles of rum and below deck buggery! These guys had purpose.

Arr.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-04-28T17:39:00.000+01:00

Again, it's time (Doesn't Sunday come around quick these days?)..

Marks out of ten please...

Worship the great, the good- yada yada - ah, you know the rest, surely...

This time we pay the mostest respectest to a wonderful wonderful guy, but sadly in 1980, at the under-ripe age of 54, also a long time dead;

Prayer No.9: Peter Sellers

Generally a comic genius and a versatile actor within a myriad of roles...

A founding member of The Goons alongside Spike Milligan and Harry Secombe, and changed the face of British comedy forever..

A clown prince of impressions and characters. Let's not forget (How could we?!?) his character Dr. Strangelove in the film Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb who suffered from highly watchable yet worrying bouts of nazi indoctrinated dramatics..

So good was he, they did make a film about him starring the fabulous Geoffrey Rush.. go and see it please...

And, did I mention a certain French policeman?

Now.. what was his name...?

Clouseau!

"Thank you Mr. Sellers, you worked damn hard at your craft." -B + C + W x.

I don’t speak ‘dickhead’

2005-04-28T09:55:00.000+01:00

And I don’t carry around a massive sign with me that says:

“IF YOU ARE AN UTTER BERK – PLEASE COME AND SPEAK TO ME”

So why do so many of them do precisely that? I seem unable to avoid them.

Take the other evening for example. I’m ordering from the Chinese takeaway down the road.

Crumb – “Good evening, can I place an order please?”
Berk – “What would you like?”
Crumb – “Just a beef curry and boiled rice please, that’s it”
Berk – “Anything else?”
Crumb – “well, no, as I said, that’s it”
Berk – “Is that for delivery or are you going to collect”
Crumb – “I’ll collect it thanks”

*lengthy pause*

Crumb – “Hello?”
Berk – “You’re going to collect?”
Crumb (confused) – “Sorry, yes – I understood that was one of the options?”
Berk – “okay”
Crumb – “How long will that be?”
Berk (ignoring me) – “Would you like the rice and curry mixed together?”

*another pause*

Crumb – (feeling as though I must have dreamt that last question) – “Eh?”

*another pause*

Berk – “Would you like the rice and curry mixed together?”
Crumb (perplexed) – “NO! Of course I wouldn’t!”
Berk – “About 10 minutes”

So I think I’m going to get the sign made. It’s a bit of reverse psychology. If I had such a sign maybe the morons would get the hell away from me.

First time for everything...

2005-04-26T12:22:00.000+01:00

The very first pint I bought I spilt.

The very first album I ever had was on cassette. It was ‘Jive Bunny and The Mastermixers’

The very first car I drove was an FSO Polonez.

The very first single I ever bought was on vinyl. It was ‘Just Say No by the cast of Grange Hill’

The very first goldfish I won died in the bag on the way home from the fairground.

The very CD I owned was a gift. It was ‘Feels Like Heaven’ by Urban Cookie Collective

All in all, I probably should have given up by now. But I’m a fucking fighter...

Grrrrrr

The Sunday Saviour

2005-04-24T16:16:00.000+01:00

It's Sunday, you're in church, you've put on your Sunday best and the roast is in the oven.

The church is the Ministry of Sound, your Sunday best is a string vest, knickerbockers, a purple felt trilby hat and a whistle; and the oven isn't even turned on. You are ready and sorted beatch!

Time now to unwind, lose yourself again to look at the great and good who have paved the way for the rest of us to live, love and survive in this great wide world today.

It's a celebration, a party and a final pat on the back to those who we once loved, still love and will carry on loving.

This week, it's the time of:

Prayer No.8: Eric Estrada

He embodies 70’s cool, along with Bruce Lee, Shaft, The Flumps and Leo Sayer.

CHiPS- California Highway Patrol is how we all really know of his fame. Apart from a few dodgy erotic made for TV movies, it is the aforementioned disco- era hour long police drama to which he is best remembered.

Each episode of CHiPS chronicled the highs and lows of state highway policing. Yeah, that’s right, men on motorbikes going up and down a road saying “Hey, he’s speeding, let’s give him a ticket” or “Lookie there, she’s gonna have to have her brake lights fixed, step on it!” or “My, that van is full of terrorists”.

He played a character called ‘Ponch’ Poncherello and he was fairly cool in comparison to his logical, rational and square cut companion Jon Baker. I mean, which name even sounds cooler to you? Exactly.

Erm.. that's about it. -Oh, and he does loads of cameos in other films and TV programmes, most notably "Scrubs" on E4 last week.

"Cheers Eric, you're a boy." B + C + W x.

Heeellllooooooooo…???

2005-04-21T21:00:00.000+01:00

Readers, prepare to be confused. This is not the voice of Crumb. Nor is it Bonobo.

At this point, you’d be forgiven for wondering just who the merry hell this is that’s broken into the sacred temple that is The Mighty Love, shouting their mouth off. Let me introduce myself.

Hello. I’m Worzel.

Charmed.

Contrary to appearances, my presence here is justified. In explaination, I’ve been a pal of both C and B for longer than any of us would care to admit. I had a blog of my own not so long ago, which I had to wrap up because in all honesty, I got lazy.

To cut a long story short, during a recent booze-fuelled reunion with the illustrious creators of this first-rate blog, they asked me to become a Mighty Lover. It’s amazing what passes for sensible after a Chaffinch or two. It’s an invite that they (and you) may well live to regret, but it’s one I’ve gratefully accepted, so tough-titty.

Fear not, because The Mighty Love will still be very much a two-man show. I’ll just be chipping in from time to time, and I’ll try not to bugger things up too much.

Thanks for listening.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-04-17T23:13:00.000+01:00

Praise be! Holy fucking shit! It's time once again to get our heads down, get out the songbooks and rejoice, rejoice, rejoice in someone who has done their turn in life for the greater good.

This week, the saviour comes in the form of a rejected children's toy, thrown away like a peice of rubbish at the toy factory, but which earns magic powers soon enough by a god and becomes a crimefighter.. you know.. like you do.

(Marks out of ten if you could, feedback is what it's all about...)

Give it up at the back now as we unveil this week's weekend warrior, none other than;

Prayer No. 7: Superted

Ok, ok, so he's a fucking cartoon..

And maybe not a lot of you have heard of him..

But he was a super hero teddy bear who was initially chucked away from the toyshop which made him only to get picked up by Mother Nature who gave him extraordinary powers. I mean, how cool is that?..

The best bit was when he changed from your average talking teddy bear to your average flying, bullet-proof talking teddy bear via a simple "unzip my fur to reveal a superted costume beneath" trick...

He had a friend called Spotty, who came from another planet, and was invariably spotty...

Superted's enemies consisted of a mad texan who resembled the 'Bad' in "The Good, The Bad And The Ugly", a big fat clueless lump of a man and a walking talking skeleton who was as intimidating as a warm comfy sofa. So; a texan, a fatty and some animated calcium...

Vocal talents were supplied by such greats as Derek "Head and tails, knees and toes, knees and toes" Griffiths and the late, great Jon Pertwee. Can't go wrong there then...

Superted was made by S4C, the Welsh version of Channel 4 which I used to watch all the time (because I couldn't get Channel 4 in deepest darkest North Wales in the mid '80s)...

Superted, you're super! (thanks for asking)- B + C x.

facial despair

2005-04-14T18:06:00.000+01:00

I'm growing a beard, I'm 8 days in.

I decided that, at the age of 26, it was time.
I'm going to look like a cock, but I needed to find out for sure.

I have never experienced itching like this. It's dreadful.

Matthew Kelly is a moron. He has endured this and survived.
If I wimp-out, Matthew Kelly is more of a man than me.

I cannot allow this.

At the end of the day

2005-04-11T19:18:00.000+01:00

I need air.

A place to breathe, a place to be.
A beer, a comfy chair and someone
To please sort out my hair.
As chaos reigns and nothing's clear
I need friends around to give me cheer.
Thoughts rampaging, no control.
Need to be cool but I don't think so.
Time to think and lift my head
And wonder why I ever said
The things that came down with a thud
And clouded beauty with thick mud.
Time to listen, time to be
Time for you and time for me
Although I meant the things I said
I never meant to mess your head.
They are all true but shouldn't be
An ordeal for either you or me.
Will that day come? I do not know.
For a chance to be, a chance to show.
A truth, a hope, a love, a plan
But not until the crumb discovers the man.

Can you believe this blog has won an award for best manly blog?? What a tart. I'll be trying to sell you perfume in a minute.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-04-10T20:08:00.000+01:00

It's been a fair few weeks since any post dedicated to the great and the good was published.

In all fairness there's been a shitload of camping going on from A to B and then on to C, travelling the land up dale and down valley, from coast to coast, town to town and pole to poledancer. There's been drama, comedy, pathos, tragedy and redemption. And that was just me and my emotions in the bathroom the morning after a particularly heavy night out in Newquay.

And so, back to the usual arena of praise. The Sunday Saviour. Who will be put on high this week? Whose too cool for school? (Talking of which, I'm going back tomorrow after a two week hiatus- damn!) Who shall be looked upon with the ultimate online worship imaginable?

Why it's none other than..

Prayer No. 6: Bill Murray

In a parallel universe somewhere, he's my uncle, maybe even my dad.

He was a founding member of Saturday Night Live, along with John Candy, John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd to name but three.

Ghostbusters.

He has a way of making anything funny. Anything, from tending to a golf course (Caddyshack), watching a toaster dance (Ghostbusters 2) or just deciding whether or not to blow up a speedboat or simply steal it (The Life Aquatic).

He is genuinely funny

I probably could go on but I would probably write a thesis on him, so I'll stop.

"Carry on being so damn funny Mr. Murray" B + C x."

(..I really could go on and rename this site "The Mighty Murray"..)

Extreme Camping 3: Back In The Habit

2005-04-06T14:07:00.000+01:00

Ok, we've both been slack sonsabitches of late.. I posted last Thursday and there's TWO of us doing this blog. Something's not right..

Truth is, both Bonobo and Crumb have been doing a fair bit of merry jaunting around this sceptred isle of late and haven't had the access to a 'pewter which makes it difficult to blog. Plus we've visited parts of the UK who stil think the biro is an invention of "The horn-ed one", so, ya know..

About this time every year since 2003 (A long three year tradition I'm sure you'll agree) we go Extreme Camping, whereby we usually camp at quite a cold time of year andget drunk on most nights, not eating much and waking up in a very minging state. It's called Extreme Camping because usually, amazing life affirming events take place, like downing a pint when bitterly hungover or sucking on urinal disinfectant blocks.

Also, in last year's Extreme Camping, we followed the A39 from it's humble beginnings on the outskirts of Bath into the outskirts of Falmouth. As we went along we chronicled the journey by taking pictures of road signs which said "A39". Also, as we travelled down in the car, at random moments one or both of us wouls scream "A39" at the top of our voices to remind us what the trip was about.

This year we decided to do the A30, or the "Great South West Road" as it is described from it's start at a roundabout near Heathrow. We drove all the distance from the start all the way to Land's End in Cornwall where the aforementioned road then finishes. Then we went back up to Newquay to camp it up for a few days..

Miles wise, we did about 250 odd and felt every single one. It was an epic.

But we still shouted out "A30" at certain points in the journey. And I'll be posting the pictures soon so that you can all see our journey.

But it was Extreme in parts, but I didn't manage to suck any disinfectant this time which was a bit of a wounder I must say. Anyway, we're both tired an it's time for a nice sleepy.

That's all for now folks, take hair. X.

Bonobo: Annual Day of Birth

2005-03-31T00:01:00.000+01:00

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.

How to drink a chaffinch

2005-03-30T09:08:00.000+01:00

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.

Happy Easter for those of you who can sleep..

2005-03-27T08:32:00.000+01:00

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

2005-03-25T14:40:00.000+01:00

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.

The Tuesday Saviour (Bit late- Sorry..)

2005-03-22T22:46:00.000+01:00

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.

How to Milk a Volkswagen

2005-03-15T23:17:00.000+01:00

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...

The Sunday Saviour

2005-03-13T23:23:00.000+01:00

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"

I'll make myself welcome from my pants thanks

2005-03-09T23:13:00.000+01:00

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.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-03-06T13:06:00.000+01:00

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.

Not on Brookside

2005-03-04T18:39:00.000+01:00

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..

Wrong

2005-03-02T13:16:00.000+01:00

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.

The Sunday Saviour

2005-02-27T22:31:00.000+01:00

It's that time again. Please, enter, sit down on these here pews and gather your thoughts as we once again praise be the men and women who have lived, strived and survived to bring a little corner of heaven into our *This bit must be spoken like the Emperor in Star Wars* pitiful little lives.

Remember, marks out of ten is what we be needing..

This week:

Prayer No.2: Hugo Myatt

You may not be familiar with the name, more the mean and moody visage.

He was the presenter, nay the dungeon keeper of the much loved and sorely missed 'Knightmare'.

By doing this he helped to support and promote the whole 'Dungeons & Dragons', 'Swords & Sorcery' ethos to a wider and younger audience as it was aired for CITV.

Through his work was heralded the first type of interactive computer generated style of television programme.

I say 'computer generated'...

...What I mean is it was a bunch of kids standing infront of a blue chromakey background.

But back in the day, wasn't it so real?

So real you could almost go back into the labyrinth and solve all of those puzzles again?

Meet all of those friendly and scary characters, your foes and friends and those huge huge spiders that slowly approached you if you didn't get out in the nick of time?

You and your friends.. in the dark, near the shadows...

...Those shadows which whisper and have yellow blinking eyes...

...Think you could go back into the 'Knightmare' again?...

Caution team...

"Thank you Hugo. B + C x".

ADSL: Premium Driver Qualification

2005-02-24T20:01:00.000+01:00

Consonant reader,

ADSL. It stands for Advanced Driving Skills Licence.

You were never taught them in your 'official' driving test, because, really they're the sort of things you have to chalk up to pure experience on the road.

Driving with one hand is probably the first move towards gaining your ADSL. That casual pose where one hand is elsewhere, scratching something or maybe someone, whilst the other hand grips the steering wheel nervously.

Soon that cautious hand relaxes after a few more drives, and ends up not as a white- knuckled, just a hooked thumb gripped at the bottom of the wheel.

At this stage you have reached the first stage of ADSL. And you probably didn't even know it. Well done.

Advances in this discipline will now vary from;

- changing gear with the wrong hand whilst eating haribo tangfastics

- changing a tape/ CD in the pitch black

- leaning down into the passenger footwell to grab a bottle of coke you'd just bought from a petrol station; but you'd braked a mile ago and it shot forward of the passenger seat disappearing into the void.. and now its suddenly become the most sought after drink in the world.

- drinking the coke afterwards in heavily congested traffic where you have to switch lanes, reduce and increase car speed; demanding complex gear changes and constant changes in peripheral vision

Of course, there are too many to mention but each action is noted down as further progress into the study of ADSL.

Today, I gained further entry into ADSL by putting on headphones and finding the right song to play, fiddling with my mobile phone, opening and eating a pack of crisps (Walker Snaps: Spicy Tomato flavour- good lord..) and trying to put change back into my wallet whilst trying to turn onto a main road in Hereford.

You can't learn it.

B x.

Wigging It

2005-02-24T12:31:00.000+01:00

You know they say it’s easy to spot somebody wearing a wig?

It’s true.

I tried on a wig yesterday and spotted at least 4 people.

Snot Subtle

2005-02-22T20:13:00.000+01:00

Okay, we'll hold our hands up, the colour of this blog is pretty grim. It looks like a mishap in Grotbags pants. There have already been loads of comments coming in about it's overly-green horridness so we are pretty much all agreed on that.

BUT- what we have mixed opinion on is the weight of the font. Me and Bonobo are happy with a narrow font but some feedback suggests that BOLD might be better because it will be easier to read.

So I thought I'd throw it open. Can you read the normal okay or had we better buy bold? Every vote counts.

Quick Green Kit Kat From Japan Post

2005-02-21T14:27:00.000+01:00

Consonant reader,

I tried one of these a few evenings ago, sent to me by a friend who teaches in Japan. A green kit- kat. It was lovely, tasted just like you'd expect; yet it was also wrong.

Whatever next? Red minstrels? Purple lion bars? Or how about, just to get really silly; blue smarties?..

B x.

The Mighty Love

I use the word 'modicum' in this post

True calling

Eat Bonobo: An Introduction

Brief Video Game Character Fun

Golf: A metaphor for life itself...

Photos Of My Beautiful Car

Infuriating Events

My Beautiful Car

Tales of the Smoking Nun

The Youth Of Today: Slang

Lovely to be back

Ssshh...

Calculators

Big Bear

The Land Of Oxen: A sonnet or something

"The Breakfast Club" does not reflect modern day some pupil attitudes especially here in the UK

Pain In The Neck

My turmoiled brain

Last Day

Let's have an almighty fighty

My Mum's Wisdom

Bonobo has the sh*ts

See thru pooch blues

Star Wars Trilogy Comeback

Out of stock

The Prodigal Sun Returns..

Liberation, isolation, ill communication

Lest We Forget

You talkin' to me?

Sorry...

Horse and..

Sixth Sense?

BAFTA Baffler

Heaven Help Us

Got Any ID?

Archaeologist Popularity

Mp3 Empathy

The Undead: A rant

I thought about the army...

School and my suit

I Am Jimi Hendrix

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Chris Mass

Nicholas Was...

Computer Games..

An Entry Concerning Bonnie Tyler Who Is Pictured Below

Scarecrows don’t have to be scary!

Someday I'm Crumbing Back

Just Wait!

Under Par

Wisdom Pearl Nugget: Part 1, Episode 1, Vol 1.

Berfday

Sod them all...

Not PC

Good Morning Britain

The Saturday blogmeet..

Simply Super

Ecological Balance Disaster!

In Court

The Friday Fuckwit!

#32 Nick Pickard aka Tony HutchinsonRidiculously-Quiffed, Idiotic, Holly-Oaky, Fuckwit

A Public Service Announcement…

Fu...

The Sunday Saviour

Prayer No. 15: Stephen King

London Bomb Attacks

Sets Please - We're British

The Sunday Saviour

Prayer No.14: Doctor Who

Musical instruments

The Sunday Saviour

Prayer No.13: George A. Romero

Query on arranged bricks, wood, metal and other resistant materials

Apologies for the week off/ The Sunday Saviour

Prayer No.12: Clint Eastwood

I'm So Sorry For No Saviour

Hey, teacher! Leave that kid alone (or simply stop swearing at them)

The Sunday Saviour

Prayer No.11: George Lucas

#32 Nick Pickard aka Tony Hutchinson
Ridiculously-Quiffed, Idiotic, Holly-Oaky, Fuckwit