Dave "Battenburg" Dawson......

Last week saw another live gig by Miles Hunt and Erica Nockalls to promote Mr Hunts new solo album "Not an exit". As usual, a fine performance which has a tendency to restore my faith in humankind just long enough to get me to the next live event.

When Milo does a solo tour it usually includes a stop off at the Half Moon in Putney, that means it's a local gig.... which in turn allows me to get horribly drunk and to revel in Mr Hunts creations.

Now, Miles is well known for his banter between songs, sometimes he explains the story behind the song, sometimes not.... it can be a lottery. What you don't expect is to hear your name mentioned with regard to one of his songs, which is what happened last week.

Unfortunately, I'd past the point of being attentive to what was being said and missed the gist of why I'd been named.

The song I'd been linked to was "The Cake", a title on the new album...... Thank heavens it wasnt "Size of a cow". I didnt have time after the gig to ask what the connection is as Milo was busy signing stuff and I had a lift to catch.... anyhow, whatever the connection, its bloody great being associated with anything that fella produces.

I 'ate you Butler

The original idea was that I "help" a mate with a few issues when it comes to drum fills and breaks. Should be easy enough, an hour on the throne and he'll be breaking around the kit like a pro. Seems teaching is a little more difficult, especially as Aaron (the fella in question) has the rhythm of a collapsing building..... which is a little ironic as from a distance it sounds like he's building a shed*

After several cups of tea it was decided that I'd stick around for the nights session. It came to pass that Aaron had borrowed a small....very very small mixing desk.... no not desk..... more post it pad sized thing along with two studio mics.

Considering that there were to be 2 guitars (bass and electric 6'er), drums, keyboards and two vocalists I decided to opt out of the logistics of gathering all those sounds together into something that resembled organised music. Eventually, when the stench of too many cooks had dispersed we were left with one spare singer and a keyboard without an amp. Apparently the only audience for the keyboard was to be the tape recorder as it seems it plays no role within the band.... don't ask

As it happened I had a bit of a hoot, there were times when bass, guitar and drums found that groove, enjoyed the surroundings, admired the swirlyness before being ejected into the street for groping some blokes squeeze by mistake..... I think its called being creative, sometimes you hit the nail on the head and other times you run screaming into the road hoping to be hit by a number 11 bus to the cemetery gates.

Now then, when I was in a band our "tapes" were kept very close to our chests, most 'cos they were bloody awful, but deep down, we knew we could do better. We'd keep them under wraps until we were tight and could maybe afford some recording time (although we never did).

Aaron decided to "release" them on t'internet. Said like that, it conjours up images of some endangered species being set free in the middle of nowhere, to live out the rest of its days unhindered by man's intervention. Unfortunately, this "tape" should of been corralled into a small area then humanly put to death, quietly and with as much dignity that can be mustered.

Of course I'm being very critical, every journey starts with a single step and this is very much a wobbly stumble across the lino. Who knows, with a little practice it may turn into a runner.

Anyhow, here's a link to the site.... but be careful, its a shocker. Scree


* Aaron. Don't be too upset about my criticisms. This is a blog and artistic licence is in play

I want to ride my bicycle

As you can see, SHE RIDES WITHOUT STABILISERS!!!

But best of all, she did it with her Daddy. Something she wont forget and will carry with her forever, as I will.

Of course she needs a few more hours in the saddle to help with stopping, starting and turning.... but apart from that, she'll be fine!

Water.....

I'm a product of the industrial 70's. I'm built from processed foods, crimpolene, terylene, artificial sweeteners and I probably contain more E numbers than a primary school's kitchen



My body has a half life of several thousand years and will continue to contaminate the water table for some time to come..... although I do seem to be dissolving from the inside out.... my hip and thyroid is one example and the other is currently blocking the lavatory back at the flat (sorry about that John*..... I attempted to tackle it this morning but as I approached it with the kitchen chair and the builders trowel I swear it growled at me!)

This of course has nothing to do with this post... well not much. You see, I just happened to come across a TV program some weeks ago that suggested Aspartame could be linked with the onset and continuation of arthritis, which is the diagnosis I've been given for my knackered hip.

So, I thought I'd attempt to remove this artificial sweetener from my diet...

That means not drinking anymore "diet" soft drinks (amongst other things of course). So, I was on water only..... I've never been fond of drinking water, I dont really like the taste.... and I've seen what fish do it in.... Then there's bottled water, which has too much of a poncy feeling about it... no, It'll have to be filtered tap water. UK tap water is about as pure as you can get, really..... I filter it cos of the fish thing. I know its irrational, but with the help of a Brita water filter I'm overcoming it.

You know, this chilled filtered tap water is quite nice, I do lapse occasionally and have the odd can of Pepsi Max, but not often. I've even been testing out some brands of Tea.... I'm currently drinking two types at the moment......Twinings Pure White Tea and a Ginger Herbal Tea... which is surprisingly tasty.

Next week I shall be experimenting with Yoga.







* John is my lodger, he rents a room from me. He is not my gay live in lover. If I was gay I'd pick someone much better looking (someone "scrummy")

Can we stop to do some shopping?

If you have a bike, then go to Wales..... unless its a Hardly-Ableson as they have corners and bends in Wales that require you to lean the machine into. Something the Hog was never designed to do.

I've just come back from 3 days of intensive biking (750 miles in total). Five blokes, four of them IAM level and one who's almost there..... and not one whining over sensitive fun bothering female person in sight...

God is a biker, there's no other reason to arrange the hills and valleys of Wales in a way that makes almost every road a technical adventure to negotiate on a bike. The Devil of course drives an underpowered Skoda towing an unfeasibly large caravan, or as I like to call them, moving chicanes.

Luckily for us, the Devil was off shaking chimney stacks in Kent and left the Welsh roads caravan free. Bloody fantastic.

Left hander......possible knee down event.

I quickly and unconsciously skim through "the system".... the bend is visible all the way through, nowt on the road, nothing to hit, my position adjusted, just left of the long white divide. Speed and gear selection needs to be perfect, enough speed to keep the adrenalin flowing and the correct gear to neutralise the suspension bias front and back.

Everything slows down, becomes quiet and I feel a tightness spread across my face as the inevitable grin begins to show.... Arse slips off the seat to the left, right elbow anchors itself into the recess contoured into the tank design, left knee and leg rotate outwards ready to skim the bitumen.
Subconsciously I begin the turn, but thats not enough to do this correctly, I need to apply some science and have heroic amounts of self belief to stop under-steering and meeting an oncoming tree....or worse.
Forcing a 1000 yard stare up the road to where I need to be in just a few short seconds and applying a forward push on the left bar to countersteer the bike and myself around the apex...... Ground rush becomes apparent to peripheral vision as the lean angle increases.....I try not to think of the forces being transmitted through the bike, to the suspension and down to the tires and onto a contact patch with the road the size of a credit card.

I can feel the increase in G's spike then begin to fade, perfectly in unison with the degrees of lean. The throttle is slowly opened making sure I don't over do it and spoil the whole experience by spinning up the rear tire too early and invoking a spleen shattering high-side......

As the bike returns to its perpendicular attitude and my arse finds its usual residence I begin to hear a strange noise in my helmet , sounds like a screaming, giggling, over excited 10 year old at a Beyonce concert....... feck...... that noise belongs to me.

Oh look! another bend up ahead...... possible knee down event.

Note to self....

Who needs drugs when you've got music? It can change your mood quicker than a dose of prozak..

So, Mr Hunt is out and about on another tour along with Miss Fidley (aka Erica, pictured above... ain't she scrummy!). I urge you to pop over to his new Myspace page and have a listen to Note to self, to say its bloody marvellous is an understatement in the extreme.

The tour is planned to coincide with the new album released at the end of this month (Not an Exit), so if ya liked the samples on his webpage then get yaself a ticket or two and who knows, I might see ya soon....



I'll be in the usual place at the Half Moon in Putney May 22nd, in the usual drunken state I expect.

Is that bone I can smell burning?

Damn my dodgy hip....

I'm at the stage where I'm attempting to help my daughter to ride a bike. She's 6 and very confident..... which is great, but you do need some basics before you take the training wheels off... like the ability to point the bike in a direction that dosent end up in a collision with either people, trees, kerbs or me. The use of "brakes" seems to be an afterthought... usually after she's hit something.

So, I've been out to the park attempting to "help".... but how? I've found it very difficult to just "let her go" or perhaps that should read "let her fall off".... I got her knee protectors, elbow protectors, hand protectors and a cycle helmet, but its still not enough to put my mind at rest. Maybe I should let her wear the gear instead of me..

Eventually my hip decided it was time I should let her go, I'm not built for jogging in any condition let alone 23 degrees of sunshine.... unless being chased by carnivorous wild animals which thankfully are few and far between within the M25 area. Actually, I'm not really built for any kind of outside hard labour, my genes lie with a life of cold underground digging. When I'm exposed to sunshine my skin turns from its natural northern blue-white shade to a very angry and burnt red colour.

Anyhow, Emily did very well, she scared herself a few times as well as a few passing joggers and dog walkers but didn't actually fall off. Best of all she enjoyed it although she didn't quite get to ride without the training wheels.... maybe next week

I had to resort to a heroic dose of combined pain killers and the walking stick came out to play again..... I just hope Em cracks riding the bike sooner rather than later as the smell of burning hip joint isn't pleasant.

Oh well.

Barking mad

Everything seems to be sorted in the flat.... well, all the major stuff anyhow. For a single bloke that means all the audio/visual equipment is installed and my clothes are still in boxes in the bedroom.

Still dont know a great deal about my neighbours, I'm sandwiched between two single mothers with an undisclosed number of children..... all below the age of 5. As these flats were built in the 70's before compressed straw-walls were invented I've found little noise pollution, but ask me again in another month or so.

The car park outside the flats tells me there's a copper living close, as well as a taxi driver.... the other inhabitants have alluded me so far.

The only strange thing worth mentioning are the kids in the taller block of flats over the road...... they.....bark. Once you get over the initial shock you start to notice that it's not just one type of bark, they seem to be able to produce several types of canine auditory manifestations which include howling, yelping, growling, snarling and occasional whimpering. Thankfully we're separated by a large fence and brick garages. I've have yet to determine if they also foul the pavements and/or bite

The Groove Controller

"The Groove Controller"

Secondhand Serenade

I just cant help it, there's something very warm and now and friendly about an acoustic guitar.

Maybe its just me and the people I've had around me while growing up in a northern town. Very difficult to say what you really mean except when its presented in song on an acoustic guitar.

So, go and sooth ya lugs and listen to whats on offer from this fella.... dunno how much of all the lovey-dovey stuff I can put up with, but it's holding my attention so far.

Secondhand Serenade

My fav at the moment is Maybe, then possibly Your Call (which is a little too sweet for me)

Anyhow, let me know what ya think.

It's all down to me

I no longer need wonder at what point someone else is gonna make me homeless. Which is the feeling I've had since 1993.



I'm the sole name on my mortgage. And that's the way it will stay. I understand that other factors may come into play to force me into a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere, but at least it wont be on a whim and a prayer of some vacuous shallow bint with the morals of a footballers wife.



I came out the other end of my little adventure, battered, bruised and scared for life. It wont happen again, and because of this I carry a small bit of peace that I unfold every night before I fall asleep.



If you're married and a UK bloke then God help you. You'll need it. Our legal system hates you with a passion, it'll leave you bankrupt, homeless and it'll take your children away...especially if you're the one who remained faithful as blame isn't a factor when dealing with divorce.









Tomorrow I'll be talking about the positive side of suicide.

This is for Kat.

I've just read your blog.

...and I'm gutted.

Nothing I say (or anyone else) will help right now. But maybe if you come back at a later stage you'll understand what I've got to say.

First, let me apologise that I havnt replied sooner. As you can see, I've had my hands full, and this is the first time I've been able to check the blogs that matter to me.

Second, it hurts... and I know it.

There's this very large and heavy curtain we like to draw around us when everything we believe in begins to dissolve. It's a very natural defence mechanism which has to take its course. That course can run for some time, there is no formula to work out how long it'll last, all you'll ever know is that eventually it will lift.

Some people never experience it. (usually the mad and the bad)
Some people try to remove it chemically. (but only prolong the agony)
Some people experience it briefly. (the enlightened ones?)

...and some of us...

are never the same again.


Kat, never think you're alone on this one. No matter how small, faraway or insignificant you think I am from your current position, I'll be here... waiting.

I'm In!

It's taken me 17 years to get to this point.

but as of the 15th of this month I can now officially call Ocean Finance and get myself some debt consolidation secured entirely on my new home.

how comforting and refreshing.

Anyhow, everything is now moved. All done without the aid of payed movers which I'll never do again.... it was a nightmare. I managed to over do it and bust my hip again and if it wasn't for the following people who gave up time and a little sweat I'd still be in the old gaff in a pool of my own waste.

So, I'd like to thank....

• The lodger (Mr Wall, who's transformation into "White Van Man" was like something from Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde)
• Chuckie (who supplied heaps of muscle and fat man power)
• Pooch (muscle and bike talk)
• Paul Haygreen (supplier of muscle and a large Audi Estate)

without these fellas, it wouldn't happen.

Check my bins...

I'll be packing tonight... until I move on Thursday.

I think it'll be an equal split between stuff I need to keep and stuff I should keep but cant be arsed to.

Things I've had to throw out so far.....

1. Sony DV Camcorder with remote, spare battery, cleaning tape and case.
2. Bin bags full of XXL clothing I never wore
3. Enough PC parts to make at least 2 reasonable computers and dozens of mice/keyboards
4. Motocross helmet
5. Full set of leathers for a smallish woman
6. 2x Motorcycle jackets
7. Rotofit hamster house
8. Tivo
9. Sony VHS Recorder
   
10. Single Bed
11. Lodger
    

The bodies under the floorboards can stay... that febreze stuff is great.

And dont worry about not giving me a hand to shift all this stuff.... I'm sure with enough tramadol, ibuprofen and paracetamol the constant pain in my hip will subside after the first couple of trips down the 3 flights of stairs in my present flat.....after all, I've got all my family to give a hand! what with the constant visiting and phone calls I get from them you'd never think I'm ONLY 4 HOURS DRIVE AWAY.

I'd like to thank....

Well, looks like I'll be moving to a new gaff next week.

This has all been going on since early January, but I've not really blogged about it..... mainly because of my inherent bad luck when making something public knowledge... so I've kept my gob shut.

As it stands at the moment I've had a mortgage offer, the sellers have accepted, dates have been confirmed and there's a large bag of money somewhere in south London with the sellers name written all over it.

But the best bit of all? it'll be all mine! (in 25 years time that is).

There'll be no soul sucking woman in the background waiting for the moment when she can legally take everything I own, make me bankrupt, have me thrown in jail for frowning and making her "fear for her own safety" which will enable her to take my children to live with some fat idiot in a house paid for and furnished by me.... all with the full backing and support of the legal system.

So, I'd like to thank the following people for making this purchase possible...

My ex wife: for making me see how shallow, greedy and dishonest one human being can be.

Emily: for being so special. It made me put a lot of fear to one side so she can eventually have something to call her own.

Chuckie: for pushing me mentally to get this done.

My Financial Advisor: for not laughing too much at my predicament and helping me through this minefield.

Beaten by a 6 year old...

I managed to get a hold of a Nintendo Wii console... along with a copy of Wii Sports, which has already claimed its first victim. Although Chuckie will deny it, playing boxing on Wii Sports put him outa action for at least 2 days with a knackered back.

Anyhow, this weekend I introduced Em to bowling on the Wii, not only did she pick it up really quickly she now holds the record on the console. It's not much fun being hammered by a 6 year old so I quickly changed to a different game, she cant be any good at boxing, I mean, she's six..... and a girl.

She now holds the boxing record too... soon afterwards the console stopped working for some reason (ahem).

When there is a hush that I contain.

I'm still 39 at the time of this posting.....

For some reason being 40 has played on my mind, well, to be honest, since I was a teenager. 40 cant happen to me, or if it does I'll have done everything there is to do. Being 40 when I was a kid, in a mining town was the end. Thats it fella, you've had ya lot, sit back and perfect the art of being increasingly useless, embarrassing and alcoholic with serious bladder weakness and a mistrust of people who smile.

But back then I still had enthusiasm hope and glory, I could make a difference and hopefully, with a lot of luck and help from like minded people I'd somehow make the world a better place. Cos in the late 70's we had a choice, either be another coughing black lung statistic or perhaps, just perhaps escape to something a little brighter.

And then you come into contact with the arseholes of this world, put here for no reason than to test your faith in the human race. Be it managers, salesmen, politicians, wives, girlfriends, council officials, accountants, anything ginger, people from the Isle Of White, pilots, doctors, dentists or architects they strap you into that chair and spout forth a million reasons why.... YOU ARE WRONG.

And... for a time..... I believed them.

and that's why I havnt done everything I should have done.

Mitigating circumstances M'lod.....

So, I'm asking the Universe for an extension. I need some extended play here. I got sucked into a downward spiral of negativity on a colossal scale..... I think I've done my time, now it's your turn you fuckers, for the lies, for the hurt, for the evil that lives deep within your shallow soulless hearts - you know who you are - welcome to your cheap seats, I hope this really really hurts, keep those pearly whites glowing, cos you're gonna need them where you're going.

If ever I needed some cake, now would be the time.

Knit one, perl one, jam it in ya goolies........

I was sent to hospital on Friday, it would seem my Rheumatologist was concerned about my worsening hip and wanted me to have a huge needle jammed into my groin to "withdraw" any puss that might be there...... nice.

Anyhow, after screaming like a girl for most of the procedure the operating doctor told me that the fluid he extracted looked ok, no signs of puss or infection..... which is good cos apparently you can loose a leg if an infection goes unchecked (I assume its the painful leg that gets the chop in these circumstances!)

It came as a great shock to find out I was to stay in hospital over the weekend, I thought I'd be chucked out almost immediately after the needle incident, but the doc wanted to keep me under observation for a few days. Being the tit I am, I didn't bring anything in for the stay, no clothes, no PJ's, no toothbrush/paste, no porn. But thanks to Chuckie (again) he rallied round and got some stuff for me (except the porn)....... Thanks marra, thats another one I owe you.

Of course all the drugs and medication in the world will never make me feel as good as a visit from my little girlie, thanks to Sue and Gary for bringing my Em to see me, she made my weekend much better.

Em brought me a get well soon card which she made herself (without any help from mammy!)

Windows Vista..... or Dave's new girlfriend?

Hi, my name is David and I'm an IT consumer cow

Facts:

I know anything that is advertised in the media is a lie.
Microsoft products never live up to their hyped expectations
Microsoft products are grossly overpriced

So, why the hell did I buy Microsoft's new Vista PC Operating System?

Well, I didn't intend to purchase it, as most IT people know you never ever buy any software on its first release, it simply wont work. It'll be bug ridden, at best it'll just crash regularly, at worst it'll destroy any important data and attempt to reduce your hardware to a silicon paste. And you NEVER EVER buy an OS on first release..... The OS is the heart of your computing experience, it has a hand in every single thing that happens on that machine.

Anyhow, I was perusing the isles of PC WORLD, not looking for anything in particular, occasionally giggling at the enormous long queue of irate customers at the "Customer Service" desk waiting for the spotty herbert to tell them that everything the sales person said before the purchase was a lie and the only way of getting your money back would be to take them to court...... and if they don't leave in the next 60 seconds they will be forcibly ejected by the knuckle dragging shaved ape with the word "Security" sellotaped to his chest.

But that's not the point, this is...... PC World managed to mis-lable and price an entire shelf of Vista Home Premium (Full version, not Upgrade) DVD's.

Being a professional within the IT industry and working for a top blue chip IT company I did the right thing...... walked over to the queue of irate people at the customer service desk, told them PC World had dropped a bollock and had mis-priced Vista by £70 and by law MUST sell it to you at the stickered price....... Feeling very please with my self I returned to the checkout with my £70 lighter copy of Vista and bought it.

The manager wasn't happy, but after I'd explained to him that employing "the dangerously bewildered" on minimum wage to sticker goods worth hundreds of pounds was no fault but his own, and that Trading Standards could shut his shop at the drop of a hat if he refused my purchase, this had him smiling sweetly and wishing me a "good day" through gritted teeth.

No doubt the knuckle dragging shaved ape on the door has been trained to recognise me should I ever return and to remove my testicles with impunity.

Oh, and I guess you wanna know how I got on with Vista? Well, lets just say I'm back using XP as I feel being able to use my DVD drive and not having the browser crash every few moments is a bonus. On a technical note, if you have a system with Dynamic Disks then back them up first as Vista will tell you they are knackered and suggest you format...... not good.

It's a bit like previous girlfriends I've had, quite tasty on the outside but filled with disease and a passion to stop you doing anything you like.

Sirloin steak.....right on the bone.

Didnt really fancy coming back here. After loosing Addie I had to think about stuff I've never been comfortable with, its nothing anyone can help with, its just stuff that's within all of us but unique to each.... probably.

So, what's the big news? Well, I like to start with the good news first, as there's nothing quite like watching that elated happy-go-lucky smile fade to abject misery right in front of my eyes. (little house on the prairie, girl in gingham dress skipping down slope (the good news)...... suddenly, an Indian scalping party appears at the top of the hill behind and come running and screaming after her - (the bad news))

Good News:

1. My boss has been told to sling his hook. Of course, being a large blue-chip top 500 company it wasn't quite conveyed like that to his minions. It was something like this, ahem.......

"......blah...blah..... bluesky thinking......blah blah..... robust deliverables......Re-aligning GW's skill set to better leverage his potential in new emerging and exciting technologies".... blah blah...repurpose back-end architectures...... blah blah.....strategize one-to-one bandwidth....... blah blah....synergize extensible e-commerce"


in other words he was a kak handed gobshite who couldn't tell the difference between his own arse and an elbow. He single handedly reduced our customer base by a 1/3rd, cost thousands of pounds to the business by renaming the department from something that was self explanatory to something that required a degree in horse-shite to decipher. I wont linger on his social skills, but this fella could make Jade Goodie look like Mother Teresa..... there's more business intelligence in a tramps vest.... and we still have no idea "what he was for"

2. I'm looking for a place to buy.

3. Goober is now 40

Bad news:

I'm now a cripple. I cant walk, I've been screaming like a girl most of the week. My hip has thrown in the towel..... big time. There is NO position I can put my leg where there is NO pain. It's constant and I'm sick of it. I've had to find new and inventive ways of wearing socks. I now have to use a calculator and a set-square to help plan my next bowel movements. You have no idea how stupid you look shouting at your own leg in the middle of a shop when it decides it would be "clever" to ignore the heroic dose of painkillers you've been feeding it.

Anyhow, I've had the consultation with Sweeney Tod (do all Orthopaedic Surgeons have fixations on anything sharp and shiny?) and he is waiting on my MRI results.... which bizarrely I have on my PC right now. So, I should have an answer on which flavour of plastic hip I'll need and when he can slice open my upper thigh and play with his new Black&Decker hammer drill and Meccano No.6 kit to my old bones.

This is an MRI scan of my left hip...apparently. It looks more like Tesco's Meat counter to me.

no title required.....

She keeps a distance, but she’s always there, watching, waiting, but most of all anticipating for the time when I return. She knows. We share a bond, and have done for over 16 years, she’s seen a wife and several loves both come and go and not once cast a judgement. Even tho at times I’ve taken her for granted, left for what must seem years at a time, yet she still greeted me with affection and love.

Her very name means “love and understanding”, something I first discovered in the lyrics and music of Stuart Adamson. In recent years she has become an educator to my daughter, teaching her the subtle qualities of care and responsibility, something that is sadly missing from a host of people around us who think they know what “love” means and is shown in their reactions to our situation.

At the moment she is fighting for her life, and the small group which I call “my family” are in limbo…… She is dying, there is no question of that, and with her passing I too will experience another part of “who I am” slip away.

I can only offer her comfort, she will go as she came, cradled in my arms.

My little girlie, my DC, my AddieCat.

Ssssshhhhhh, can you hear the voices?

Ok, I don't usually go for these online personality test things, they are only there to sell you a diagnosis of some major character flaw and before you know it you're a gibbering wreck, living under a bridge and £2000 lighter.

But, this one came from Kat, someone who seems to be sane, upstanding and without character flaws (ok, so believing you have a pair of haunted nutcrackers may not pass scrutineering by a professional on a leather chair, it's still harmless.... at the moment, so it doesn't count), so I thought I'd give it a go.....

These are my results..... if you know me, then feel free to comment. If you're a professional shrink and think you can help, then you can find me in the 3rd cardboard box under Staines bridge

Setback after setback has resulted in considerable stress and now you have got to the stage where you are continuously on your guard, not only to protect yourself from others but to protect yourself from yourself.

It would seem that many of your unfulfilled hopes and dreams have led to uncertainty and suspicion. You no longer wish to answer to others and you are insisting on freedom of thought.

You are seeking ways to protect yourself from further loss of prestige and against further setbacks. You have become very dependent and you doubt that matters could possibly get any better in the immediate future and this negative attitude is leading you to exaggerate your claims and to refuse reasonable compromise.

You are probably English, northern, fat and most likely bald as a coot.

The good news is that you are not paranoid, everyone really does think you're a tit.

If you want to have a go, then go here...... remember to paste your results back here. We can then compare and see who is most likely to knit themselves a suit from the skin of their dead victims.

1973 - burn baby burn (....cos it's all 100% Nylon)

I've got a serious case of "cant-be-arsed" going on. I have NO interest in anything I'm doing, and Christmas is nothing more than a reminder that everything I've previously done was wrong.

Anyhow, some months ago I came across an old UK home shopping catalogue from 1973... In '73 I was 6..... and more importantly Sunderland AFC won the FA cup..... which has nothing to do with this post, so I'll carry on.

This catalogue is fantastic, it's a snapshot of almost anything that you could purchase, and an awful lot of stuff that you shouldn't.

From highly flammable 100% Terilene/Nylon sleepwear to Fibreglass curtains and more Crimpolene than you can shake a steam iron at.

After the initial shock at the non-biodegradable materials used you start to notice the colours. WOW, I can only imagine before 1973 all clothes/carpets were either black & white or just brown. The words "busy" and "why" are constant companions on each turn of the page.

So here's a few I've "cut out"......

This poor unfortunate lass on the left here is typical of the clothes on offer.

I'm speechless.... I can only assume there's a dog's bed somewhere in London missing it's cover.

At some point, the manufacturer sat down with the designers and agreed this "garment" was marvelous and should be mass produced and sold for a premium...... just let that soak in for a while, no doubt these people have retired and are drawing huge pensions. Proof there is no justice in this word.

It's got flared sleeves for Christs sake! I think it could be a kind of contraception rather than clothing.

I'm welling up here, Oh the shame!

I guess by now you've seen the abomination which is the fella on the right. There's not one thing right about this. I've no idea where you'd wear this to, no, hold on..... apparently there are clubs that cater for this kind of perversion, I think I leave this one here.

I think we need to move onto some of the flooring that was available. You need to prepare yourself first, I would suggest taking a seat.... one with a belt would be good as I think you'll need to hang on as you may become nauseated and a little confused.

here we go....

and again.....

I feel for the cat on that last one, you can see its terrified! it darent move! I can understand buying one of these carpets if you're incontinent or need to cover up a crime scene, apart from that I'm baffled.

and to round off, here's a few that require no comment at all.

Stuffed and remembered

A video of all the stills I took while on tour with The Wonder Stuff.....

Music by Miles Hunt "These Things Remembered" Demo, used with kind permission

If you like what you've heard then why not buy the album

Ganin' yairm t'tek sum pictures liek

It was a Saturday, no Em to entertain and the weather not conducive to silly lean angles so I decided to drive 300 miles to where I grew up and take some pictures. So here are a few from the small town where I grew up.....

Easington Colliery, Co Durham, UK....

This site was originally occupied by the Easington Colliery Coal Mine, when the profits were too small for the black suited boys they closed the pit. Now all that stands there is this monument to over 100 years of coal mining. It is in fact the cage used to carry the men (and equipment) up and down the south shaft... Including my father, brother and countless other relatives and friends.

The North East Coast.... From Hartlepool to Seaton Carew.

The Cage - looking south east

Seaton Carew - Beachcomber

a Beach Txt'er

Sunset @ dawn

I see no ships

Coughing horses and see-though students.

I'm on a training course (its a BMC Remedy course if ya must know and I'm on Day 8 of 10).....

So I have to be quick as I only have a few minutes between modules and Lab exercises (nothing to do with Labradors, no court orders were breached!) but the keyboard is SO loud that people are looking at me and today I'm pretending to be translucent.... not totally invisible cos that's silly, but just enough to get me on the news... think The Abyss or Donnie Darko

Then there's the fella sitting next to me... He's our assigned COUGHING MONKEY. I know every course, seminar, meeting, cinema, animal research lab and doctors surgery has to have its complement of coughers, but the one we've been assigned is attempting to launch a slice of his infected lung across the room and onto the whiteboard..... This is not a gentle "ahem" politely placed into a tissue or perhaps an enclosed hand, but what seems at first to be the death rattle from a wild horse just off my right shoulder.

Anyhow, its almost lunch time.... not much to report there, I did ask if the manky looking "lunch" had been tested on ex-Soviet Spies but I don't think they got it.

For Jillian (my niece)....and my sister Susan.

It seems an explanation is required for a previous post.

So, to answer your question... no.... no I'm not in love with the ex wife Linda. I may be "in love" with that particular time in my life, but its a far cry from actually being in love with someone I haven't seen or heard from in the last 13 years.

It has been suggested that if Linda was to "reappear" I'd drop everything to be with her. Hmmmm, that's an interesting one. I'd like nothing better than to meet up with Linda, I think she's got a lot of explaining to do, some of which could end the remorse and guilt I know she should be suffering from. But if the suggestion is that I'd give up "who I am" and "what I've got" to be with at best a liar and worst an internally deceased emotionally barren purveyor of STD's then some people need to update their perceptions........

(wow I just read that back... for someone who says he doesn't care I'm sure putting a lot of emotion into it! Yikes)

Anyhow, what you need to understand is that "those" people no longer exist, there is no-one to fall in love with.

There are three things you should never return to, no matter what.

1. A dud firework
2. An ex girlfriend (this includes Ex Wives who "re-appear" with delusional expectations)
3. A wounded Ninja

I hope that puts an end to any confusion about the ex wife.

@rse over tit....

I could of fallen off the bike, oh yes.... tight left hander, magnesium knee sliders spraying a shower of sparks into the air as the lean angle allows me to almost touch the hot tarmac.... As I concentrate my attention into the far distance I don't notice the smallest of diesel spills which has exactly the same dimensions as the credit card sized contact patch my front Avon uses to hold over 300lbs of racing machine (and human) to the road surface.. Within a fraction of a second the bike has low-sided and I'm sent spinning across the road, across on-coming traffic and into a variety of road furniture............

It could of been like that.....

but it wasn't.

I actually fell UP the stairs at work. Arse over tit. Latte in one hand, bacon and sausage bap in the other. The first thing to touch mother earth was my right knee cap, it slammed into the metal edge cover and then had the best part of 17 stones of pure British lard jack-hammer it home.

Yes... it hurt. I swore a lot.... repeatedly. The pain was so intense I almost lost grip of my bacon and sausage bap (the latte was mostly a stain on the wall at this point).

The security guard (who is stationed right next to the stairs) immediately called for the Duty First Aider, smart move you may think, only, I am the duty first aider..... After I stopped screaming I switched off my First Aid pager and returned to my "screaming like a little girl" routine until a small crowd had gathered.

Luckily, there was no claret, if there had been the screaming from me would of stopped sharpish as I passed out (as a first aider I can handle other peoples blood, but not my own). I could feel my knee cap swelling by the second and I could feel the unmistakable signs of shock welling within.... cold, clammy, gray skin and a raised heartbeat. I took refuge on a nearby couch just as one of our other first aiders arrived (thanks Ann!)

It was quickly established I needed a visit to E&A pretty sharpish, there was no way I was gonna waste a busted knee cap on an ambulance so Chuckie volunteered to drive my car with Ann and myself to St. Peter's Hospital.

After lots of poking about, x-rays and a heroic dose of painkillers it was established that I hadn't broken anything and it was no more than a very nasty sprain/twisted knee and severe bruising.
In good old NHS fashion I was fitted with a tubular bandage and a shiny pair of crutches and told to naff off home for tea and sympathy.

and thats where I am now, "working from home", high as a kite on Tramadol (Hmmmmm, t-r-a-m-a-d-o-l) nursing a right knee cap the size of one arse cheek while watching daytime TV.

The killer stairs, tried to take me and my bacon & sausage bap OUT.... not forgetting my knee cap

I was never told what happened to my bacon and sausage bap. We went through a lot that day.

I'M BARRY SCOTT..... I SAID I'M BARRY SCOTT!

So I have a thing about cleaning.... I do take an unhealthy interest in cleaning products and can sometimes be found in the household cleaning isle at Tesco's gently caressing various bottles of detergent....... in a non sexual way you understand.

I still get thrown out by security, but only if they are new in the job, the regulars just move me along with a pointy stick

Anyhow, I don't expect you to understand, only me and Barry Scott know the real buzz a Universal De-greaser can give (again, it's nothing sexual...)

So, there's a new TV advert for Cillit Bang Lime & Grime..... but there's something wrong. I think Barry may be suffering from hearing loss. Why? well, just listen to this advert..... try not to swayed by Cillit Bang's amazing cleaning power, it's Barry's shouting that's in question.


You see! He just SHOUTS throughout the advert, and its not the first time I've noticed this. It's that poor lass standing right next to him I feel sorry for, she probably shat herself at the first take.

What is one to do?

So, I find myself with nothing better to do than blog.

It's never a good way to blog (for me anyhow). I know it will turn out to be rubbish, far too long and will stay on my site abusing my eyes for days.

That's why I could never be a professional writer. There are many things preventing me from doing this (list far too long to put here) but the biggest hurdle for me would be writing about stuff I'm not interested in, to a deadline and with a word count........ which pretty much puts a stop to that career.... but let me give you an example......

The ongoing battle for power with the Democrats and Republicans and recent mid term elections* as reported by our man on the street "The Man From Delmonti"

"Fat hairy knackers with the lot of them. Dull, corporate soul-les suckers of Satan's genitalia everyone of them. Don't vote because it only encourages them..... it's your democratic right after all"

See! I'd be pushing a shopping trolley and routing through bins within a week.

If you wanna know how writing should be done, by a REAL professional writer, then pop over to Kat's gaff and check it out.





*if any of this text is wrong, then blame my US of A work colleague (Mike) who gave me the technical info about US politics.

If there was a drug.....

The sun is low, there’s a slight frost. I stand at the window, it’s cold. Cold enough to warrant a sly smile, the kind that you know has come from a past memory.

I see me now, looking from my window, grey and alone. But it’s not what I see in my heart, I see me at age 23, looking from a different window onto a different scene but lit in exactly the same way.

My silent here-and-now world is in stark contrast to the one I’m re-living in my minds eye. There’s the empty but running Ford Escort that holds my attention, I started the engine, turned on the heaters then re-entered the house and took up my position at the window, watching the car as the windscreen defrosted….. and waiting for Linda before we drive into Durham.

I’m almost 40

and occasionally, I still find myself waiting for her.

The song in my head right now was written for me sometime ago
This is The Truth, written and performed by Goober

...

...

Jotter

Things to do this weekend....

1. Chubby Brown gig at Croydon
2. Photo session at Polesden Lacy
3. Propose new governmental regime after a civil war/coup I'm planning in the UK. I dont want to give the game away just yet as I'm still trying to figure out how to avoid UK Hate Laws especially the "Incitement to cause violence" bit. I feel a Civil War/Coup seldom works without some violence and a well managed leaflet drop
   
4. Clean the bathroom
5. Point and stare at passers-by from my window

It's gonna be a busy one...

The seed has been planted.....

My next big purchase* is gonna be an Apple Mac.

I'm done with Microsoft and Windows XP, it's just too fat and retarded. I spend far too much time, effort and money keeping it all together.....

MS have missed an opportunity with Vista and they are ignoring the home user. An operating system is supposed to help the user not be an obstacle.

It's time to move on.... but which Mac?

Don't want the Mini - its too small (expandability wise)

iMac - Don't need to buy another LCD display, and its not very expandable

Power Mac - It's expandable, I can use my own LCD...but I don't have £4k burning a hole in my pocket

*next big purchase. This is wishful thinking as I'm skint.

Comments

I've been told "It's why we blog". It's a kind of applause I guess.

Just having "hits" to your blog isn't enough really, you like to know that somewhere out there someone is thinking "I'll just take a look and see if there's anything new at whats-his-faces blog". Even better if they take the time to leave a comment (if you missed that, ITS A HINT TO LEAVE ME A COMMENT)

A few days ago I got "tagged" by another blogger. "Dr John" (who purports to be a man of the cloth) has some sort of game where he asks his blog readers to visit a blogger site and leave a message to gain "JC" points that could win you a prize.

Dr John does point out that its only for fun, the prizes certainly corroborate this, a "Saffron Bun" being one of the better prizes (that's what he says!... I dont even know what one is)..... even so, Dr John does have a large congregation and they've taken his advice and visited yours truly.

Admittedly, most of the visitors that have left a message are not interested in anything I have to say and deposit a message just to receive their "JC" points, absolutely nothing wrong with that. The main point is that they left a message, and that message was "you exist"

What I'd like you to do, in return, is visit Dr John and leave him a comment, just mention you've come from this blog.... a round of applause if you like (and no, there arnt any prizes, sorry)

Last second of the minute.....

...thats the time to begin it.

Available to download from most on-line vendors today
(there's a live version on there, with me as special "kit-setter-upper" guest*)









* probably

EDIT: I've just been informed that the "Miles and Dray" picture on the cover could very easily be in next months Viz..... in the column entitled "Up the Arse Corner".

Quote from Wikipedia about Viz... "There's also 'Up The Arse Corner', where photographs are submitted of people whose pose, and/or facial expression, could be misconstrued as being in the midst of an act of buggery."

Looking at it now even the title seems a little suspicious......

.......damn. It's all spoilt now.

What's he for?

No, I have no idea either Maude, its just bollocks isn’t it?. God only knows who the hell he thinks he is with all this dreadful drivel.

I mean, have you looked at some of this stuff? Is it supposed to mean anything? Is it supposed to be deep? trivial? shocking? It’s a load of gob-shite if you ask me.

It’s just post after post after post of whingeing….. He must think he’s the only one with problems. If its all that bad he should go and do something about it, and I don’t mean another ranting post…… at least we’d all be one car length up in traffic tomorrow.

Miserable git that he is. He’s not happy unless he’s bitching about someone or other. What he needs to do is take a long good look in the mirror….. that’s if he can find one big enough.

His first wife left him…… yes……. Had to move away, change her name…… had her eyes sucked out and replaced with hot toffee apples just in case she ever saw his twisted face again. Tragic it was…… made her “fear for her own safety”

Anyhow, I don’t think it can go on for much longer, I heard rumours that he’s not all there if you get my drift. They say personal hygiene is the first sign, once that’s gone there’s no stopping the out of control spiral into deep and dark depression. Couldn’t happen to a better person I say….. I SAID IT COULDN’T HAPPEN TO A BETTER PERSON.

MAUDE!..... do keep up dear.

5 Liverpools, 0 Failure

There's this fella I know..... His name is Philip Bimpson... He's gonna visit all the "Liverpools" the world has to offer in celebration of Liverpool (the original one in England) Cities 800th birthday in 2007.

Phil is many things, doctor, dentist and architect... probably, but recently he's been getting involved in the wider world of "media".... and this is his latest venture.

Good luck Phil, I'll be keeping an eye out for more of your updates.

Picture from the BBC's "The Experiment" where Phil and myself were prisoners for a week

I really have nothing useful to say...

If it looks like I'm doing something else, or I don't answer you when you expect, its probably because the implications of telling you to go take your pointless blabber somewhere else would cause difficulties I'm too lazy to fix.... so.....

As a guide, these are the things I'm simply not interested in...

You
Your boyfriend
Kent
Your new job
Your old job
How you're feeling

It's a broad list, but I think it covers most things you have to say. Basically, cutting out anything that involves you talking about yourself should reduce global greenhouse gasses by at least 20% ..... and possibly your ego by 90%.........


If only you came with a mute button

Professor Plum, in the Kitchen, with the Lead Pipe

Damn I hate my job..... no thats not right, start again..

Damn I hate people..... no, thats too generalist (but only just), another go...

Damn I hate managers...... yes, I think I've got it.... yep, perfect. I can continue.

As you can tell, it's a Monday. It's become a bit of a sideshow, me ranting about something or other, saying something true but taboo and having to buy some over-sensitive workshy fop a latte before the righteous-but-wrong mob have me ASBO'd


So, what got me annoyed this morning? My manager. To say he's an arse is to insult arseholes everywhere.... Most arseholes do a fine job of keeping shite inside (mostly), whereas my boss dilates fully and spews forth a steady stream of infected verbal diarrhea any Shigella Bacterium would be envious of.

So, as you can tell, he has the ability to wind me up at the drop of a hat... and he knows it. Thats why he booked a "one-to-one" meeting with me last week for this morning at 9.30am... making sure my Sunday night was spent "de-venting" and hiding blunt objects.... and then promptly postponing it 2 mins before kick-off..... He did this electronically so as not to face me... and without any apologies or explanation....

Anyone seen a length of pipe? probably has ginger matted hair stuck to one end?

Beta-Bloggers

Hmmmm, I had no idea Blogger had all these new ideas for updating their service. I logged on yesterday and was presented with a screen asking if I wanted to move my blog over to the new structure. At first I thought "knackers to that, it'll screw up everything I've built so far"..... but after getting pissed off at various people I though I'd take the plunge and have my whole day go horribly wrong.

Well, it didn't. I managed to incorporate almost everything I had on the old blog without too much trouble, even my GeoData and map survived.

I have to say the best feature to be added to the new Blog is the ability to add labels to a post. This gives me a change to categorise posts, which makes them a little easier to find later on. I also like the "Feeds" section, this enables you to add a live feed to the side bar which is dynamically updated (I think its dynamically updated, I haven't checked it).... This section will be for privileged sites only, so Mell, Pete and Russ consider your Blogs special... at least to me.

Interlope..... not antelope

Thank feck its a Miles Hunt Solo gig night.

I've reached my limit of having to put up with "people" and need to have my internals straightened. Only two things can do this for me, a Miles Hunt solo gig or "heroic" amounts of Lithium intended for the dangerously bewildered.

Luckily for the dangerously bewildered, the Half Moon in Putney have Milo on stage at 8pm tonight.

Unfortunately I have to stay sober as I'll be driving, not something I like to do at a Miles Putney gig but I've no choice as everyone I hold dear* has decided a Monday night infront of the telly is more appealing..... I cant begin to tell you the bile I'm spewing forth over this right now..... your ears (if you actually had ears) should be glowing white hot right now.

I'd normally plaster this page with references to websites, ticket outlets, venues, promotions...... but why bother? you lot wouldnt look if your entire future happiness depended on it....




*I dont hold anyone of drinking age dear..... except when I need a lift to the Half Moon in Putney to see a Miles Hunt solo gig.. My shallowness is exceeded only by my utter contempt for public transport.

Mr Creosote

It's day 4 in house......

*Fourth day of my "Man Flu"... and its taken a turn for the worse. Worse because I've just lobbed me guts up, it wasn't pretty, and for a moment I thought I was dying... It's surprising what runs through your head when confronted with copious amounts of bile, mucus and half a liter of strawberry whole grain yoghurt.

An hour after that, it was my bowels turn. I think I need a mid-section transplant as I seem to be dissolving from the inside out.

Coughing and sneezing now requires thought and preparation.







*I can only do this 'cos I have moments of clarity, most of the time I feel like death. I ache all over, coughing fills my rib cage with a searing pain I simply cant describe and I've no energy to walk further than the bathroom. Yes, it's proper Man-Flu

messages of sympathy and occasional sex greatfully accepted.

Biohazard!

I'm writing this from my pit... I'm hold up because I've contracted the flu.... straight from the devils own arse it would appear.

Now, I've got a bit of a phobia about having a blocked nose.... When I'm full of snot I can get a little anxious and sleep is out of the question... which just exacerbates the illness.

So, I have to "entertain" myself during the nights until the bunged up phase moves on... thankfully, this time its only been for one night.

But last night was very odd. I was running a temperature and feeling battered and bruised, every movement was painful especially clearing my rancid and heavily infected throat. I dosed myself up on Lemsip and Sudafed and went to bed.

I remember tossing (careful!) and turning and having real ghoulish dreams. Having to change the duvet at one point 'cos I'd perspired it to death........

I'm also On Call...... and the inevitable happened, a call at 4.20am... I've vague recollections of talking, and especially trying to bring myself round to understand what my colleague was saying. It didn't work, I think I just gave up in the end, apologised and put the phone down.... I guess on Monday I'll be hauled over the coals about it...... which may result in me gobbing into the air-con intakes.


Revenge is a yellow and green phlegm ball.

One in a million....

Bill Oddie

Once again I have been stunned by my managers ability and talent. For instance, just the other day I was informed of his somewhat hidden talent of mimicking the calls of wild birds.....

sometimes, in meetings, you'd swear there was a tit in the room with you.

Royston Vasey

I read a book!

Actually I read a lot of books.... well I try to read a lot of books, it just that most of the ones I get my hands on tend to be pointless drivel that have me wishing for temporary blindness (just about anything to do with Stephen King comes to mind)

Anyhow, I was in Tesco's a few weeks ago and came across Roy "Chubby" Brown's autobiography, it had a tenner knocked off so I thought I'd give it a go... especially as he's done a lot of his growing up in the North East.

Now, if you haven't heard of Chubby Brown its probably best that you just move on, he isn't for you, especially if you are southern or female or just so stuck up your own arse you'll complain at anything just so you can hear your own voice..... there are exceptions to this rule, but tend to be few and far between.

Chubbs is a comedian, a northern comedian. He specialises in "blue" comedy and lobs in the odd song along the way..... and this is the reason you probably haven't seen him, he does not do telly but does do a roaring trade in DVD's of his shows.

Anyhow, his book is a damn good read and tracks his life from childhood to the present day. It follows his home life and career and documents his battle with cancer.

So, I read the book in record time and decided to send Chubbs an e-mail telling him how much I enjoyed his book..... and now my e-mail is part of his marketing! How bloody great is that!

I'm off to see him live soon, should be a hoot

Being 6....

There's a ton of stuff that's great about being six.

Six has to be one of the best ages to be, if I could have it all again, I'd like it to start at six.

Love for a start is unconditional, no matter what size shape colour or creed your parents are, you just love them.

Emotions are something to be tried on like dressing up clothes whenever the fancy takes you..... especially in Tesco's

Flying around the dinner table pretending to be a Spitfire/Fire Engine/Ballerina is considered perfectly normal as is pushing your whole head into a bowl of custard.... both of which I have urges to do on a regular basis (not too keen on the ballerina one tho')

Falling asleep in mid conversation.... although I have to confess this is something I still do, especially when confronted on issues like football, fashion or Tivoli

Asking the meaning of swear words, its starts at 6 and continues throughout life.

Finding inventive new ways of not having to wash or clean your teeth

Best of all tho': all problems can be overcome by a hug from mam or dad

My little fruitloop has reminded me how fantastic life can be, if only we could stay 6 forever...

Shut up ya girl

my manager couldnt find his own arse with both hands

Gerry Anderson is innocent

Steve Irwin: Self professed "Crocodile Hunter" died during filming.

I'm no fan of this fella, I just feel for his two children who now have to grow up without a father.

I've got nothing against wildlife conservation, and I too love wildlife documentaries, but there's a breed of presenter out there now that is taking the piss..... and one of them was Mr Irwin.

You didn't have to be the sharpest tool in the shed to work out where his career was heading, it was only a matter of time before Mr Irwin rediscovered the true meaning of "Dangerous" & "Wild" when pissing around with these animals.

Some say Mr Irwin taught us a lot about wild animals...... I don't think he did, I already know that snakes, crocodiles, lions, tigers, spiders.....(basically, anything that lives in water or in the jungle) and now, Stingray are the main reasons some of us developed larger brains and now live in gated communities and drive around in LandRover Discoveries.

Mr Irwin tried his best to sensationalise these animals by performing stunts, he even involved his month old son at one point. He became famous not for his unrivaled knowledge of these dangerous creatures, but for the guy who "just might get eaten live on TV"


.

Pete Moore found in a pool of his own vomit. Thats a lot of vomit, even at the shallow end.

I had a call this morning......

"Hi, thought I'd better let you know that Pete was found drunk and unconscious this morning and was taken to A&E in Liverpool..... I think he'd been to a gig"

Eh? Pete Moore? Drunk? Hospital?.......... Liverpool?........ why tell me?........ which gig?..... who'd he seen?......and what the feck is that smell*?


Oh, I get it, its a dream!...... bollocks, now I'm gonna have to wake up, I'm gonna have to make sense of this, there's no way I can continue with this dream, its just too weird.

It is.... weird. I don't usually remember my dreams, the ones I do remember are usually to do with family or musicians.... and they are nearly always shrouded in oddness and mist. But this morning it was all in HD-Ready-42"-LCD-Plasma vision.

So, Pete, if you could shed some light on why I'm being woken in the early hours of the morning with alarming news like this, then I'd be very thankful.

Picture: Pete Moore just before setting off for Liverpool to see Peters & Lee in concert......in my head.

*smell: sweet tobacco, like a pipe.

I have distemper, parvo.... and a huge infestation of worms

At what point in your life do you stop controlling yourself and begin "Who You Really Are"?

I say that because no matter how I try I simply cant help telling it how it is.... I seem to have a ceiling for how many fuckwits or arseholes that get in my way, and when that number is up I simply explode and shower everyone in the vicinity with vitriol and bits of spleen.

It's not getting any better, in fact its getting worse. As I get older I'm attracting arseholes quicker than a tub of vaseline outside a public toilet. They are everywhere, where I live, where I work, where I bank, they stand in front of me at the checkout, they use the elevator to go one floor..... they know my phone number and e-mail address... they are even in my shaving mirror.

So, is this just me? Have I reached that certain age? Like an old mad dog, should I be chained to a post in the back garden? half blind, half lame, left to bark for hours on end at empty crisp packets that dare to invade my domain?






To be honest, I'm there already. I'm just waiting for the vet to turn up, hypodermic at the ready.

feck...

My PC's buggered.

First, my system drive passed away..... then the mother board died of shame. Of course, being in the industry and knowing how dodgy hardware can be when you really rely on it, I took all of my collective 20 odd years knowledge on backup principle and procedure and totally fecking ignored it.

So, I got a hammer and reduced my Shuttle XPC back to its component parts..... then spent 45 mins picking silicone and capacitors outta the carpet..... it's at times like these I wish I still had a wife to slap.

no bloody wonder

When I was a kid I was told that by the time I'm 40 I'll be holidaying on the moon..... and there'd be no need for huge amounts of illegally obtained valium to get me through take off 'cos everyone would be beamed there.......

I'd planned my whole life around the luner vacation industry....... lying bastards....

Well done Blackburn......

for possibly THE most scary gig I've been to. I did take photo's but to be honest, they aren't worth showing.

Blackburns free festival probably sounds like a great idea on paper, but when you open the beer tent at 10.30 am you can pretty much guarentee most of the audience will be lying in pools of their own piss and vomit when the headline acts appear.

And it was just that, I quick stroll around the field at 6pm and if it wasn't for the myriad of lurid coloured shirts, flip-flops and fat birds with their beer guts hanging out it would of looked like a battlefield. Add to that the overflowing "Lost Children" tent awash with abandoned "mistakes" and I think you get the picture.

The Cops decided to make "camp" within the artists area backstage which gave the crews a fantastic insight into the inner workings of how to disable a drunken fuckwit with nothing more than four O'levels and a blunt object.

Anyhow, here's a picture of my cat.

Fat Hairy Knackers.

You know.... some people are just plain rude.

It's like an episode of "Changing Rooms".... from the viewers point of view, it all looks remarkably splendid, expensive and regal. But when you look a little closer you find sticky-backed-plastic, yards of MDF and gallons of dogs hockle holding everything together.

To say the shine is beginning to dim is an understatement.

This man is a twat

Careful what you wish for....

20 years ago I made a wish. I wished for a chance to play on stage with The Wonder Stuff.... and its kinda come true. I always thought of myself and Goober would somehow end up playing with TWS. Admittedly, I thought we'd have instruments and would be joining in and making the music, instead we find ourselves tech'ing together for Miles, Malc, Andres, Mark and Erica on this years 2006 Suspended by Stars Summer tour.

So, here's to my brother-from-another-mother..... dont dump on the bus and bring lots of gaffa tape and lashings of Ginger Beer.

The Wonder Stuff.....

Well, I'm Tech'ing again.....

Tomorrow is the first of nine TWS gigs I'll be drum tech'ing for. So, if you'vbe got a ticket for the Rock Cafe in Stourbridge or Guilfest (in Guildford) then I might see ya there.

Love, Light and Laughter.....

Only time can heal....

"Only Time Can Heal...."

Looking back, its the only thing I've found to be true. Especially when a major tragedy hits. Sure, sedatives will dull the senses, alcohol will temporally remove you from the situation and friends/relatives will rally round to give "support", but at some point, you're gonna have to face and embrace the inevitable pain and suffering a loss will bring.

Time ticks on and the world still spins, you don’t understand why no-one else around is hurting, surly, with this much pain there has to be overspill, passers by should be doubled up in agony when they are near, birds should be dropping from the sky, milk should curdle and fruit rot....

But it doesn’t, and you resent it. You resent the whole f*&king world.

Some people have been through this.. and some.. today.. have just started this hateful journey.

It has a start and sometimes a finish, but only time can heal.







My thoughts are with you and your family.

JOGLE '06

We did it!!

John O’Groats to Lands End sponsored motorcycle ride within 24 hours. What a hoot, what an adventure, what a sore arse I’ve got!

Yes, we completed the journey in 17hrs, setting off from John O’Groats at 3.30am and arriving at Lands End at 8.30pm. That’s a total of 874.2 miles according to my GPS.

Not only did we hit our target of £3000 for Breast Cancer Support groups, but we doubled it!!!!! How bloody marvellous is that?!?!

As an added bonus no-one fell off or crashed, ran out of petrol, got lost or otherwise.

I spent some quality time with a bunch of Lords for a cause that needs supporting.

So……

John Webster, Karen Webster, Michael Darby, Nick Corney, Martin Dartmouth, Howard Dixon, Tim Goodman, and not forgetting the organiser and run leader Rex Hawkes (aka The Marathon Man)

I salute you!