Sunday, January 29, 2006

Life is like a red lion.... full of drunken Irishmen and gaming machines

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.


Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Talent is only a stumbling block Tony....

Just don't blame me thats all....

Blame the dark nights, blame IBM.... blame the odd angle the Earth's axis sits on.... Just don't blame me.




Detune On Dub


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Anyhow, it's only a small one and I've been told the moist sores will soon heal**





**there's nothing rude in the vid

Monday, January 23, 2006

Whats your name today





Whats your name today


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Another Vid for you to view, I think this one could stand as a "pop" video on its own, even tho the sound quality is poor... what the hell, I like it anyhow.

Goober had no idea I was there with the camera, and as usual threw me a "Dawson, you're a complete arse with that camera" look. Anyhow, I think it turned out ok

The vid is hosted at a sharing site so it should stream instead of being downloaded first, I'm still playing so be patient.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Video killed the radio star



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It might work, I dunno. Click on the image to eventually see a small vid I did some years ago.

Some years ago, Goober and I (I was acting as "crap-manager" and camera fool) did a "gig" in Aberdeen in Scotland...... and things we're never the same again. Even now after so many years just the mention of "Aberdeen" will bring a sharp intake of breath and a nervous look over the shoulder from both of us. The Star-Wars cafe will always look like Scots-Bar in our eyes.

No, I'm not in the video.....(but Tiny Townsend is a dead ringer). The track is Hairy On the Inside by Miles Hunt




Thursday, January 19, 2006

Happy Birthday Goober!


This one goes out to my Brother From Another Mother ™


Happy 39th Birthday marra

Goober Flickr Slideshow

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Flame of the west

Apparently, according to a new London Guide book we're a bunch of sweary-mary's who cant live without the F-word.

Mel, I think you need to check this book out. It seems to contain a few home truths about London.

for anyone else that thinks we have gobs like sewers, then I suggest you visit the following link and bathe in the glory of how the f-word can be used.

Over to you Mr Cooper Clarke...




Friday, January 13, 2006

Lost Patrol (cut scenes, bloopers and director commentary)

Ok, ok..... here's part 2 of "Lost Patrol"

As I sat there day dreaming about sunsets, 3-in-One oil and platform shoes my subconscious decided to leave me to it, for years it had put up with being ignored and insulted.... on the odd occasion it actually got the message through and everything turned out right it would never be thanked. No, all that praise went to Captain Cognitive..

So, off marched my subconscious in full battle attire to reckie the surrounding area. Within minutes subconscious was back, flack jacket ripped, tin hat bent.. it wasn'’t gonna be good.

Next along the line was "Amanda".. I must admit, her name wasn'’t the first thing I noticed, it actually took quite some time before my eyes became accustomed to the scorching aura emanating from her polyester multi-coloured blouse. I'’m no fashion guru, but there's a 1973 Ford Cortina somewhere in London missing its seat covers.

At this point the "“dating"” had begun. You get three minutes to decide whether or not the person sitting opposite has the mental ability and agility to stick the distance in any future relationship...I did feel a little cheated on time as I also had to count things like eyes, legs and other body parts before continuing with any interrogations.

I did stay away from the obvious questions like "“Can you cook…".... "“Can you work a Hoover? and do you take it up the gary when the painters are in?" as I could see from the off no-one had a sense of humour.

To be honest, it all got a bit boring, I didn'’t fancy anyone there. To keep up the interest I played a game of "“match the prosthetic to the person"” as there was a large collection of them sitting in the umbrella stand.

The event finished about 9.30 and we decided to make a quick getaway as we didnÂ't want to get mistaken for caring professionals, all of whom were waiting outside to collect their patients.

I'’m supposed to go onto the Speed Dating website and enter my "choices"”, but I don't have any. The only problem is this.... If you didn'’t like ANYONE at the event, the agency gives you a free ticket to the next one.. I wouldn'’t be able to cope with that.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Lost Patrol

I promised an update on last nights “Speed Dating” event.. So, if you could kindly take your seats and ensure it’s fixed in the upright position and lap belts are secured, then I’ll begin.

Walking into a pub on a school night in a town centre you’re not familiar with is bad enough, but add into that a few dozen locals who know exactly why you’ve come into their pub and things can be a tad tense. Personally, I thought the blind kid playing the banjo in the corner was a little over the top, but what do I know?

Once the whispering and pointing had died down, John & myself ordered a drink and disappeared upstairs to the caged area where we collected our badges and found a dry patch to set up camp.

Within 15 minutes the last of the growlers, howlers and other deluded misfits had arrived and signed in….. I say signed-in, I’m still undecided as to whether scent rubbing can be classed as a recognised form of identification verification…. It may be OK with Speed Dating organisers but I’d like to see how a passport control officer would react to someone whipping out their happy sacks and rubbing them on his desk

At this point my mind was racing, If only I’d brought a white coat with me I could possibly announce myself as a doctor and convince the more lucid participants that the mescaline WAS on it way and I’d be right back after I’d checked outside for the Nurse……

It just wasn’t gonna happen, I was there for the duration…… As the stench of desperation mixed with perspiration and a little Lynx “Africa” aftershave began to subside I thought it would be prudent to scan the room…. It wasn’t pretty, so I moved away from the mirror right in front of me and took another look. Words filled my head….. words like “Trauma”, “Circus” and “Anatomically incorrect”.

I instinctively checked the date, time and venue. Surely this wasn’t the right place for Speed Dating?! I’d made a wrong turn somewhere…. That must be it!, instead of following the signs to Guildford I’d mistakenly took the turning to the 17th century and gate crashed a pagan sacrificial ceremony….. Far fetched I know, but it would explain the 35ft Wicker Man I’d passed on the hard shoulder of the A3 only 10 minutes before.

No, that’s just silly, even the possibility of time travel could not help make sense of the carnage I could see.

Take the “potential girlfriend” sitting at table “D”, good looking lass she was, I imagined us both limping off in to the distance… my dodgy hip and her clubfoot and calliper perfectly synchronised… If I worked a bit of Delmonti magic we could be knocking out each other hips within hours.

Actually, I cant be arsed to carry on with this story. I think I’ve got half a Twix left in the car….. Yeah….. the twix wins.

Monday, January 09, 2006

Fields of Fire....

I know a lot of you out there know of my heinous track record with women. And if you don’t, then all you really need to know is that I'm still banned from owning in any perverse description of the word a "girlfriend" by court order.

It's not 'cos I'm a raving abusive loony but because I'm a complete and utter titwank and let women walk all over me (no high heels please), especially if they let me shag them every now and again.

Anyhow, a friend of mine who also shares the same unfortunate aliment (to a lesser degree) has decided he needs some exposure (the nice kind, not the kind that gets you on the "Sex Offenders” list) to the opposite sex.

The normal thing to do would be to get ourselves off to the nearest town to pull some loose or inebriated hogs (better known as "Pigs in Wigs")….. but this approach is something we cant do. It’s not possible…. We’re both pig ugly with the conversation skills of citrus fruit.

What we need is a caged area where the women are forced to talk to us and cant use the “Feck off or I’ll call the Police” line.

And what do you know, a place like this exists….. It’s called Speed Dating! To be fair, the speed dating agencies don’t market it quite like I just have, but when ya boil it all down I think you’ll find my description fits the bill.

Anyhow, I’ll be taking the whole experience as seriously as I can and have decided to wear an eye patch and exaggerate my already pronounced limp. If all goes well I may end up going to these events every few months, I can then try out a few other “characters” I’m constructing for a future comedy sitcom I’ve been commissioned to create for Channel 4 and the National Rifle Association.

Anyhow, if you live around the Guildford area then don’t be too shocked to see several visibly disturbed women seeking dark corners to cry and shake uncontrollably in.

I’ll let you know how it all goes once my bail has been paid and my lithium levels are returned to normal.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Harvest Home

Oh my.....

Forget bursting bubble wrap as a stress reliever, try writing on a banana... Really, if you've never taken a ball point pen and written on a banana then take the time to have a go...




It's true, my life really has come to this.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Angle Park

All the shite is coming out now, I seem to have developed a cold from the devils own arse. Of course, being a bloke it's not actually a cold, it's a combination of the 1918 Flu epidemic and anthrax poisoning......

And because of this I had to bail out of a New Years eve party I'd been invited to by Pete.... probably for the best anyhow as it was a fancy dress gig with the theme "come as your favorite song".... Not 100% sure if it was for real, but the only get-out I could think of was to dress as I usually do for a night out.....if anyone quizzed me I'd say my favorite song was Duran Durans' Ordinary Day.

As I said, probably just as well I'm ill then.