Category Archives: Back In Time

Cruel to be kind

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Oh my God I look Cute!!Firstly, apologies for the password protected post.  Maybe I will open it up in the future, but right now…that one is for me.

Anyhoo, I was chatting to DS yesterday and was reminded (I forget how) about something that happened a few years ago.

I was walking through a shopping center (mall to you non Brits) when I noticed, some way in front of me, a parent caring for a child in a pushchair…as I got closer I could see that the child was in some distress and was coughing a lot.  Obviously, as a parent myself I was concerned for the little mite, and was even a little relieved when I got close and saw that he had calmed down and was no longer in clear distress.

However, I noticed something…something far more insidious and I recognised it immediately as the possible cause of the poor childs coughing fit.  It was an allergic reaction, and it was so obvious to me that I had to mention it to the father.  I guess that, as a parent, you can’t always notice the dangers around your child, especially from something so innocuous.

So, being the kind hearted parent and good citizen that I am, I leant in close to the father and mentioned..”I think I see what caused your son to choke, I am pretty sure it is an allergic reaction”.  The father looks up at me, somewhat quizzically now, but not dismissive of this strangers advice.  “What is it?” says he.

I take a deep breath, almost a sigh really and point my finger in the direction of the child…pointing directly to a mark on the childs chest.  So obvious now that I come to think of it, I almost felt sorry that this father was so clearly blinded by the love for his child and the distress that he had felt.  He followed my gaze to the offending mark and that’s when he realised and I saw a look of understanding….it was the Manchester United crest on the childs shirt.  A glimmer of recognition flashed across his face and he turns to see me nodding sympathetically.

“That’s close to child cruelty right there” says I, “You are lucky I don’t report you to child services mate” as I back away from the loving fathers swinging fist.  Such a strangely angry reaction for such a random act of kindness from a stranger.

As I rapidly accelerate away, I think to myself:

“There is just no helping some people”

I like driving in my car

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Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VI Tommi Makinen EditionI am considering buying a car at the moment.  I am looking at the new Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution.  It is expensive, but if I am honest, there are two things that appeal to me about the car.  The first is that I live in Germany, the land of fast motorways..the second is the thought of seeing the face of my kids as I pull up to get them in their favourite car.  Let’s ignore the fact that I can’t afford one for now..

There is a third thing, and that is the fact that it would be new.  I still miss my old Alfa, sure it had it’s annoyances and foibles, not to mention how much it cost to do anything with it, the noise it made going round in circles and all the other faults that drove me insane.  Finally it blew a valve once too often and I got shot of it, but I knew everything about that car and especially how to make it tick.  It was comfortable I guess.  I could never have an Alfa now though, I look back at all the reasons I loved that car and realise that there are far more why I don’t.  Plus, when I got it, they were rare…now they seem to let anyone drive one.  So I think it is about time I got myself a new car, it has been long enough without one of my own…you can only borrow one for the night so many times before you want one to drive whenever the mood takes you.

Let’s face it though, I live in the land of the BMW/Mercedes/Audi and Volkswagen.  I don’t like the new Volkswagens, have never been keen on any Mercedes other than the sports versions that I could probably never afford, Top Gear have said that an Audi is officially the car of the Cock these days…which leaves a BMW as my only realistic alternative.  The problem of course is that the BMW held the title of Cockmobile for so long, I wonder if it will regain its title soon after I buy.  Which takes me back to the Evo.  Such a great car..fast, full of electronics (me likey)…oh and did I say fast?

I have had some great cars in my time..not necessarily great cars, but great memories with them and therefore great cars to me.

My first was a pristine Morris Marina, which was older than me when my Mum and Dad presented it to me, one owner from new and immaculate.  All I remember really was that it had the capability to be run ragged and keep going.  It had a solid steel bumper and because the suspension comprised of these weird elastic band type things, the back end was quite high.  This led to a number of issues.  The first was when, on a winters night with the windows iced up, I reversed into my (soon to be) wifes neighbours car.   The question that was raised the next day to her was “Does Daves car have a towbar?”…which it didn’t..so I did the only thing I could do…I owned up and paid for the damage shook my head and commented on “dishonest bastards”.  The self same bumper also did about £1000 worth of damage to a Ford Sierra that rear-ended me at traffic lights.  I pull up at some lights, and start to take a swig of my coke when, BANG, idiot smacks straight into the back of me.  I motion for him to pull over after the lights change and we both get out.  When I get to the back of my car, I notice the massive amount of damage to this guys car, seriously, the bumper was hanging off..the grill was completely wrecked and his bonnet was crumpled.  I think one or both of his headlights were knackered aswell.  I quickly look to my car…just in time to see a small fleck of rust wafting its way to the ground like a leaf in the autumn.  I didn’t feel the need to get the guys insurance details and I went on my merry way.

The constant abuse that I gave the car almost came back to hurt me though, when a bearing came loose from the gearbox and literally shot out of the side of the gearbox housing….it was only blind luck that it didn’t come into the car….

I had a Ford Sierra (other wise known as a Ford Clitoris..every cu…nah) a Vauxhall Nova that had the distinction of breaking down whenever I wanted to go anywhere, especially if there was any rain.  There was a Renault 19 that lasted pretty well, until some idiot joyriders smashed into Sarah when she was driving it home.  Come to think of it, they were driving a Sierra…I hate Sierras, or at least they hate me.

Then I had a black Peugeot 306 Turbo that tried to kill me on the way to work when all of the electrics failed at around 100MPH….meaning I couldn’t use the electrically assisted brakes.  This woudln’t have been too much of a problem except for the huge traffic jam a mile or so ahead of me…and all of the traffic around me that basically wouldn’t let me pull in.  In the end I had to use the handbrake to slow down and force my way across traffic to the hard shoulder…with black smoke pouring off my tires.  My lasting memory of that was phoning my bitch boss from hell at the time and telling her what had happened.  All she asked was “Well…how late are you going to be?”.  Nice.

I have already mentioned my next Peugeot, and just before I got the Alfa, I had a Ford Mondeo.  Although, just before the Mondeo was delivered I was driving around in a rented Vauxhall Vectra (sorry Top Gear) for a while…that Sarah reversed into a concrete wall one night.  Our driveway at the time was very long and had a (surprise) concrete wall along the length of it.  She was taking Lisa home on a very foggy night and when she started to reverse she asked Lisa if she was clear.  Lisa, thinking that she was referring to other cars, said yes.  Unfortunately, she was referring to the wall.  Cue acceleration and a loud noise, which put a sizeable scratch/dent combination into the passenger side.   A few weeks later, I am making sure the scratch/dent combination is covered in dirt as I had to give the car back to the rental company….fortunately the guy collecting the car was on the phone and didn’t notice..thanks to some crafty parking by me Wink

So there you have it, maybe I shouldn’t buy a car after all…it will only end up in disaster

Scared of the dentist…me?

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Uros Petrovic - RevengeThis post dedicated to MK, who had quite a substantial dental op yesterday and came through it with flying colours Smile

I have quite bad teeth, I will freely admit that and I am currently trying to pluck up the courage (and the money) to get them sorted out.  A brief checkup revealed that fixing them is not a huge job, but it will cost a bit.

That said, the main sticking point is not really the money…it’s the fear.  I have had a number of bad experiences with Dentists in my life, but one really sticks out.

Oh, did I mention that I seem to have an immunity to the numbing agent that they inject you with?  No…glad I cleared that up then.

A few years ago I woke up with toothache.  Nothing particularly unusual there really…lots of people get toothache.  Me being me, I choose to ignore it and hope it goes away.  It doesn’t.  Why does ignoring it rarely work…anyway.  Two days later and I wake up in ridiculous pain.  I head to the bathroom for some painkiller and catch glimpse of the Elephant Man in the mirror.  Essentially, I look like a cartoon version of myself…a cartoon version of myself that has stored a football in its cheek for the winter.  In short….not good.

I go into the bedroom and wake Sarah up with a pitiful “Help me, it hurts” and we head off to the dentist.  They agree to see my right away and tell me that it is an abcess.  I have since learned that with this type of dental issue, they must treat the infection with antibiotics before they can remove the affected tooth.  Enter Dr Australia.  I call him that not because he had won best doctor in Australia, but because he was Australian and frankly I can’t think of another suitable nickname without being abusive.

This guy takes one look and tells me that he has to extract the tooth immediately, abcess and all, as…and I quote… “If that thing bursts, you will be in serious trouble”.  He gives me two injections around the area and leaves me for a few minutes for them to take.  As he is prodding and I am still yelping, he gives me two more.  This goes on around 5 (I think) times.  So I have now had around 10 injections and can still feel everything…determined to work through the pain, Dr Australia gets to work (what a trooper).  The pain was unbelievable and I am shaking as a result.  He stops and informs me that I have to be still.  I lean under the chair, grab hold of the metal struts underneath and tense for all I am worth in an effort to stay motionless.  Dr Australia is still struggling to get the tooth out and after a few minutes (I am quite literally crying at this point), he stops and moves away.  Whereupon he chooses to basically shout at me to stop moving, telling me that I could die if it bursts etc etc.  I nod, defeated, and tense so much that I am practically breaking through the struts underneath the chair.  Eventually, he manages to get the tooth free.  It wasn’t alone, a golf-ball sized abcess (I shit you not) came out with it, and I practically pass out from the pain.  Free of the tooth pain and now only dealing with the aftermath, we stagger to my Nans house so that I can sleep it off.  I glance in the mirror and it looks like I just lost a fight in the UFC.  Bruises over my face where he was leaning and pushing and generally trying to get leverage, everything was swollen and my eyes were bloodshot.  It was a good look.

A few hours later we head home and I go to bed again.  Unfortunately, just as I get to the top of the stairs, I black out and tumble down them.  Sarah calls a doctor who checks me out and then informs Sarah that it would appear that the anasthetic had finally taken hold…which was enough to knock out a large waterbuffalo….and before you say anything, even my ample size only accounts for a small waterbuffalo…

Not all Dentists are bastards…just small Australian ones working in North Nottinghamshire

Bring on the heat

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pimentasI was talking to the guys at work yesterday, as it would appear that some of them are missing the national food of Great Britain…namely Hot Curry (and yes, the capitalisation is necessary).  Apparently, a place has been located that understands the term “English Hot please”.

Germans don’t do spicey food..they place a 3 chilli warning sign on what are essentially tomatoe flavoured crisps.  They consider standard, run of the mill bell peppers as excessive.  When you ask for chilli on your kebab…they look at you strangely when you ask if they have real chilli anywhere.  Not a spicy hot food nation is all I am saying.  Very occasionally, I will concede, you get a surprise…I went to a kebab shop some months ago and went through the usual routine:

Me: With chilli please
Kebabman:  *lightly introduces concept of chilli to kebab*
Me:  No I said chilli please… I am English, the hotter the better
Kebabman: I have put chilli on
Me:  No, you have given the kebab a theory lesson on what chillis are
Kebabman: *sighs* Ok, more chilli
Me:  Thankyou
Me:  Bites into kebab
Me:  Head explodes
Me:  Recovers and (hopefully) successfully hides the nuclear reaction going on in my mouth

Suffice to say, he is my favourite Kebabman.

So consequently, the curries here (whilst full of flavour), do not require a gallon of beer to cool off…which of course increases the enjoyment factor…as long as you get in touch with your inner lager lout.  So, a “proper” curry house has been discovered and we will be going for a heat competition in a couple of weeks.  For my part, I will be ensuring that there are plenty of toilet rolls in my freezer for when I get home.  I will also place paramedics on standby and maybe eat some candles…Homer Simpson stylee.  When I return from my dream walk with the talking fox…I may blog about hallucenigenic curries and their effect on inner city Frankfurt.

I digress…. the conversation about thermonuclear curries reminded me of a Chilli that my Mum cooked many years ago.  We like reasonably hot stuff in our family, but my Dad had a friend coming over..and Mum said she would cook a Chilli for everyone.  This prompted said “friend” to ask if it was going to be a proper Chilli or some weak thing.  My Mum insisted that we like our food HOT, but that wasn’t enough and it turned into a macho “I can eat food so hot, they can power small countries with the ‘output’” conversation.  My Mum assured him that it would be suitably hot and she felt sure he would enjoy it.

So the night arrived, and I stumble into the kitchen to get a drink and notice that Mum appears to be making 2 individual pots of Chilli.  One of the normal family size variety…and one of the somewhat smaller and, dare I say it, sinister…evil..child of Nosferatu variety.  Various spoons and possibly the bottom of the pan were most definitely melting.  My Mum may have been cackling as she dropped small and unassuming ingredients into this smaller pan…each of them met with a cloud of purple smoke, a smell of the sulphurous pits of hell and a distinctive gurgling sound.  I think what gave away her intentions though, was the leather apron…welders mask and lead gloves she donned whenever she went anywhere near this smaller pot.

So dinner is served and we all tuck into our Chilli..my Dads friend failed to notice that all of the plants with 10 feet of him had withered and died the second that Mum walked past with his Chilli in a specially reinforced bowl, and began to munch away.  No sooner had he got the first spoonful to his mouth, he broke out in an instant sweat.  His head was so red, I literally thought he might pass out…every few seconds he would glance across at us..quietly munching away, chatting normally and generally enjoying the experience.  After the 2nd mouthful..I believe he lost the use of his tongue, and his speech became slightly slurred.  He made some pitiful excuse shortly after, something about having a big dinner and he was really sorry, but couldn’t eat anymore.  At least, that’s what I think he said…to this day I couldn’t understand him properly.

The moral to this story is of course…do not cast aspersions at my Mums cooking…she may try and kill you.

Wish me luck…

Oh…thought I would leave you with this Chilli cookoff story :

THE INEXPERIENCED JUDGE
Notes From An Inexperienced Chili Tester Named FRANK, who was visiting
Texas from the East Coast: “Recently, I was honored to be selected as a
judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last
moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge’s table asking
directions to the beer wagon, when the call came.

I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili
wouldn’t be all that spicy, and besides, they told me I could have free
beer during the tasting. So I accepted.”

Here are the scorecards from the event:

_________________________________________________________

CHILI # 1 MIKE’S MANIAC MOBSTER MONSTER CHILI

JUDGE ONE: A little too heavy on tomato. Amusing kick.

JUDGE TWO: Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.

FRANK: Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried
paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope
that’s the worst one. These Texans are crazy.

_________________________________________________________

CHILI # 2 ARTHUR’S AFTERBURNER CHILI

JUDGE ONE: Smokey, with a hint of pork. Slight Jalapeno tang.

JUDGE TWO: Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken
seriously.

FRANK: Keep this out of the reach of children I’m not sure what I am
supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to
give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they
saw the look on my face.
__________________________________________________________

CHILI # 3 FRED’S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI

JUDGE ONE: Excellent firehouse chili! Great kick. Needs more beans.

JUDGE TWO: A beanless chili, a bit salty, good use of peppers.

FRANK: Call the EPA, I’ve located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I
have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now get me more
beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back; now my backbone is
in the front part of my chest. I’m getting shit-faced from all the beer.
____________________________________________________________

CHILI # 4 BUBBA’S BLACK MAGIC

JUDGE ONE: Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.

JUDGE TWO: Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or
other mild foods, not much of a chili.

FRANK: I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to
taste it, is it possible to burnout taste buds? Sally, the barmaid, was
standing behind me with fresh refills; that 300 lb. Bitch is starting to
look HOT, just like this nuclear waste I’m eating. Is chili an
aphrodisiac?

_______________________________________________________

CHILI # 5 LINDA’S LEGAL LIP REMOVER

JUDGE ONE: Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding
considerable kick. Very Impressive.

JUDGE TWO: Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit
the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.

FRANK: My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can
no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed
paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili
had given me brain damage, Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring
beer directly on it from a pitcher. I wonder if I’m burning my lips off?
It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming.
Screw those rednecks!
________________________________________________________

CHILI # 6 VERA’S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY

JUDGE ONE: Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spice
and peppers.

JUDGE TWO: The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic.
Superb.

FRANK: My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous,
sulfuric flames. I shit myself when I farted and I’m worried it will eat
through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that
slut Sally. She must be kinkier than I thought. Can’t feel my lips
anymore. I need to wipe my ass with a snow cone!
___________________________________________________

CHILI # 7 SUSAN’S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI

JUDGE ONE: A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.

JUDGE TWO: Ho Hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of
chili peppers at the last moment. I should take note that I am worried
about Judge Number 3, He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is
cursing uncontrollably.

FRANK: You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn’t
feel a damn thing. I’ve lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like
it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid
unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava-like shit to match my
damn shirt. At least during the autopsy they’ll know what killed me. I’ve
decided to stop breathing; it’s too painful. Screw it. I’m not getting
any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I’ll just suck it in through the 4-inch
hole in my stomach.
____________________________________________________

CHILI # 8 LESTER’S LAST OF THE RED-HOT LOVER’S CHILI

JUDGE ONE: A perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili, safe for all,
not too bold but spicy enough to declare it’s existence.

JUDGE TWO: This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild nor
hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge Number 3 passed
out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not sure
if he’s going to make it. Poor Yank, wonder how he’d have reacted to a
really hot chili?

Gopping 'Orrible

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Some Now there is a word you don’t hear very often anymore….unless you are talking to my Mum, who has tried (rather unsuccessfully) to keep it alive within the English language.

Gopping…used to describe something rather unpleasant…somebody could be gopping, something could taste gopping – It is a word for many occasions….none of them good.

When I was younger, it was regularly used but kind of went out of circulation along with many others.  Lush is another one, although the Welsh seem to have successfully comandeered that and kept it going.  Again, people can be lush, things can taste lush and so on…generally considered good.  Not to be confused though….calling someone lush is good – Calling them A lush is bad and suggests alcoholism if I remember correctly.

As far as I recall, we can blame (or thank) Lenny Henry for making Wicked and Crucial a part of our language for some time…thankfully they didn’t make it for too long…although I occasionally hear wicked..I tend to dismiss it as being spoken by morons which therefore proves the case for it to be left behind.

We also seemed to steal a lot from the Americans…I am not quite sure why, but things like Fresh (meaning new and good), Radical (or rad) meaning good….Bad or sick, also meaning good.  The same can be said for Gnarly and Word.  Let’s face it, we probably heard them on a film or TV show and decided they sounded like we would all be instantly cool if we used them…NOT!  (sorry for the Waynes World referencette).

My fave though is not a nice term to use toward someone…but it is Swamp Donkey… I honestly don’t know how old it is..or even where it came from, but it sounds great and for me at least, it allows you to insult someone and put a smile on their face at the same time…and that can’t be a bad thing…can it? Smile

There are other ways to use normal everyday words to mean other things though…for example, you can use a number and a day of the week to describe being drunk.  For example…”We were seventeen kinds of Thursday last night” or “Six ways from Tuesday”.  It just works, try it yourself…you don’t even have to use days of the week, think of “three sheets to the wind” and mess around with it and you get something that is understood by English speakers everywhere as “pissed”, even if they have never heard the statement before.

I know it is a relatively short post, and will be my last for a little while as I am visiting my kids back in the UK…so I will clearly have more important things to do..for a short while at least.

What are your guilty pleasures regarding language use, new and old?

Almost forgot…if you, like me, want to bring back “Gopping” then join my Facebook Group Here

Male stripper…

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Make it stop!There was a male stripper in a go-go bar.  Or at least that’s how the song went….

I have only the vaguest notion as to why this song popped into my head yesterday, we were talking about people being able to recreate songs etc.  Marc used to be able to play the intro for Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz so well that you would be forgiven for thinking someone had put the CD in.  During this conversation I remembered this song from Man2Man Meets Man Parrish….bizarrely I also remembered the name of the *ahem* musicians…

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VP4tj7mdLdU

I would like to say that I thought it was a pile of dross, but unfortunately this was a big song one fateful summer and everyone seemed to like it (myself included)…I didn’t recall the Blue Oyster Club rejects that consisted of the band however…but I remember liking it so much that a friend of mine (who was a keyboard genius) was able to recreate the thing perfectly.

I also remember being stripped almost naked in the youth club (on more than one occasion) whenever it came on.  It’s all good and funny in the darkness of the dancefloor, but not so funny when the girls involved leg it into the well lit areas…with your clothing….just to see you running along in your shreddies Oops!

You see, what those young whippersnappers amongst you don’t get….the quality of music in any given generation is always deemed to be superb at the time.  You even hold onto the idea throughout your life that it was actually very good….until someone plays it to you again many years later.  Then you are more than a little scared.

Then of course, the music comes full circle and gets popular again.  Don’t get me wrong, there are some classics that will always stand the test of time, regardless of the generation that gave birth to them…but there are also some huge hits that are utter utter…well, a word hasn’t been invented to describe how utterly…whatever it is they are…but they are one..and an utter utter one at that.

To give some examples…Here are some of the “popular” tunes from 1988…

The Stutter Rap – Morris and the Minors
Pseudo comedy novelty “rap”, performed by a talentless comedian of the time and supposedly a Beastie Boys parody.  How in the blue hell it got into the top 10 is beyond me.  Still, at least Mr Blobby didn’t get to number 1…wait…arse

I think we’re alone now – Tiffany
Just wrong..on so many levels.  Always remembered by ladies of this generation with fondness.  Anything by Tiffany does not stand the test of time….it didn’t stand the test of the present to be quite honest.

When will I be famous – Bros
If only it was possible to ensure that the answer to this question was a negative one.  Responsible for making Grolsch Bottle tops a shoe based fashion accessory….need I say more.

Together Forever – Rick Astley
Now…I know that Rick Astley has gained some ground in recent years as a cult icon on the internet…but no….seriously, just no.  This ginger haired former teaboy is one of the reasons that the combined might of Stock, Aitken and Waterman should have been put to death for crimes against peoples eardrums….

Joe le Taxi – Vanessa Paradis
There are no words…an early precursor to the Cheeky girls in my opinion.  Not only did she miss the talent train, she was actually at an airport wondering what was going on.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all bad… I mean there was …. and who could forget …. ummm  Circle in the sand – Belinda Carlisle…. wait, no no..that’s for the first list.

I can honestly say that I must have been on some type of drug during the 80s and early 90s.  Looking back with the rose tinted glasses I seemed to remember the music being pretty good.  Then I look at some chart websites from the time and realise that not only are my new found glasses rose tinted, they have been blacked out from the inside.

Similar things happen to TV shows, but I will leave that to another post.

Do you have any music experiences that you remember as great?  Are you willing to look back and see how crap they now are, or would you rather protect your naive sensibilities and fool yourself that it was all great Wink

If the latter….try and avoid going to an 80s party Razz

Where my addiction began….

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I was talking today to a guy at work and we were discussing the finer virtues of my Starbucks Venti Cappuccino with 2 extra espresso shots.  He said I should have asked for a Venti espresso and gone for it, which triggered a TV-Show style flashback to when I was working in Cardiff.

I believe I was 18 or 19, I had travelled…lived some might say, but all under the protective coccoon of the Royal Air Force, what I see as youthful exuberance…others saw as naivety.  But through all of my experiences, I had never…well, I am almost ashamed to admit this to you now…I had never had an Espresso.  There,  I said it…I am not proud but please…before consigning me to the scrapheap of your lives, remember that I was young and inexperienced at this thing they call life…..

Holy crapola, zoned out there for a second, where was I?

Ah yes, Espresso…story…tell it.

So, I was doing some work on the side for an Italian that I had sold a computer to at work.  He owned arguably the nicest Italian restaurant in Cardiff at the time and we struck a deal where he would pay me by putting credit at the restaurant.  It was a good deal and my family and friends had some seriously nice meals because of it.  The first time I did some work for him, he invited me over to the restaurant for some lunch.  The chef whipped up an amazing risotto and I got stuck into it.  Pietro asked me if I wanted a coffee, I said yes and he asked if I wanted an Espresso.  I admitted to never having one and yes, I would love to try one.

He brought over this incredibly tiny cup with coffee in it….I had a taste and quite liked it, so I told him that I would try a full cup…and that he didn’t have to bring a taster.

So a full mug of Espresso later I am wired beyond all measurable belief.  I can’t remember the next few days following that drink, but I am pretty certain that my tolerance for caffiene went through the roof that day, and I am now at the stage of needing coffee to get to sleep at night.

I did try and give up coffee a year or two back and it nearly killed me.  I was sick, had the tremors, couldn’t focus, was sweating all the time.  I looked like the classic “Cold Turkey” sufferer that they show in films when people are trying to get off heroin etc.

Not good.  Still, at least I will have given up smoking by the weekend.

Cool

My family and other animals

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Wolf PackBeing the eldest of three boys is not always fun….it can be, but not always.  Especially when your brothers get to the age where your Mum starts asking you to take them with you wherever you go.

I have to say that the age gap helped, so I wasn’t forced into that too often.  That said, I love my brothers…although back then it was mainly for their usefulness.

We were living in Leicester many moons ago – I will never forget it..the Eyres Monsell area of Saffron Lane.  It wasn’t that bad really, but the local borstal was just up the road…anyhoo I digress.

I learned real quick that my brother Kev was a tough nut, always throwing himself everywhere and just getting up and laughing when most kids would be crying…actually, now I come to think of it, Zak is just like that now.  I was babysitting once, and decided to play football in the house…of course the ball ended up bouncing up onto the wall unit and breaking something (I forget what – sorry Mum), but Kevs exploits meant that it was plausible.  I escaped with a telling off for not keeping an eye on him, instead of being grounded until…well…now I suppose.

He was pretty fearless though, but this got him into trouble from time to time.  My Mum had her friend over and they were chatting and drinking wine.  After a little while, they notice that the bottle of wine has gone from the kitchen…it was open but untouched.  Kev was found drunk and a panicked Mum had to figure out ways to sober up a small child…it was made slightly worse, if I recall, by the fact that he had used a straw…

Younger siblings always tend to copy their elder siblings though, and I caught him stealing a cigarette from me once, so I forced him to chain smoke until he was physically sick.  I am actually quite proud of that as (to my knowledge) he has never smoked since.

My brothers have both always had their heads screwed on though, certainly more so than me.  They both excelled at whatever sport they turned their hand to and Paul in particular puts us all to shame with his dedication to academia.   Through it all, they have managed to be leaders, not followers and noone ever has a bad word to say about them.

Kev is married now and my nephew is 1 and Paul is engaged and about to enter into that most heinous of crimes….living in sin.

It’s strange to say, but we are a very close family…we just don’t feel the need to be in constant contact that most people seem to think being close requires.

My Mum and Dad have always been very supportive of me and my foibles….I was the one that got into all the trouble…smoking, drinking, wreaking havoc with my friends.  My Mum is incredibly forthright and will let you know if she isn’t happy with something…my Dad is a little more subtle, and he has always been the calming influence on my life I suppose.  I definitely needed it from time to time.

I remember my Dad and I walking across the base, on the way to the bowling alley.  The base was an RAF Officer training camp, so there were a lot of young kids that had rank.  We were in street clothes (civvies) as Dad wasn’t at work, and we walked past this snot nosed Officer Cadet.  My Dad casually said hello to him as we walked past (you never salute unless you are wearing the uniform yourself).  The cadet stopped and started having a go at my Dad.. “You will salute an officer and show some respect”…or something similar.  My Dad, simply leaned in and then really quietly, but with no small amount of contempt said “When in uniform, I salute your uniform and respect it and the rank it gives you, I do not however, have to respect the fucking idiot wearing it”.  Then he turned, put his arm around me and we went bowling for the night….legend.

My Mum and Dad are also responsible for my knowledge of drinking games, my sense of fun, sense of humour and my morality.

Thanks Mum and Dad

Tales of the unexpected…..muahahahah

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P1000950Ok, I will admit that I got the idea for this post from another blog….I don’t remember the blog, just that they did a post about ouija boards when they were a kid.

This reminded me about the time at school when our R.E. Teacher (Religious Eductation) decided to cave to the constant questioning from us all about the beyond and ghosts etc.  Let’s face it, there probably aren’t that many kids of 12 or 13 that are genuinely interested in religion….well, there certainly wasn’t at our school.  So, in honour of halloween, she caved and agreed to setup a Ouija board to dispel the myth once and for all.  In return, we all faithfully promised to listen and pay attention to the rest of the classes she would deliver.

I am sure, with hindsight, she realises that it wasn’t a great idea and could never really end well.  If I recall though, she was quite new to teaching and keen to impress.  I think that was her biggest downfall.  Taking advantage of her willingness to go the extra mile, we persuaded her to allow us to dress the room up for the event…including the table that would ultimately be used for the demonstration…..of nothing according to her.

So the windows were duly blacked out, various halloween type ornaments adorned the doors/windows and hung off every available surface and, crucially, a large black curtain covered the table with stars and moons crudely marked upon it.  The Ouija board was duly placed on top and I made sure that the object to be used for “channelling the spirits” was predominantly metal.   At lunch, I snuck in to the room and placed a seriously powerful magnet under the table that I stole from the Science department.  A quick test revealed that I could move the object around with relative ease and almost no noise from under the table.  10 minutes later with an incredibly dull light and some chalk, I had pretty successfully recreated the Ouija board on the underneath of the table.

The plan was hatched and was easy to carry out….I stayed under the table where I couldn’t be seen and when the teacher called out my name…one of my friends responded for me.  The room was dark and eery, so noone was really sure anyway.

Then came the time of the Ouija board….a few people put their hands on the object and I let them do all the build up and everything…and did nothing.  So they tried again…nothing.  I think I let them try a few times and as soon as the teacher started to talk about how she was right etc, I chose that moment to move the object.  I couldn’t have planned it better though, I had waited until noone had their hands on it.

After the screaming subsided (mainly the girls and the teacher, but a couple of lads too), some of my mates started asking questions about who the ghost was etc..  I duly answered, very slowly of course.

Everyone freaked out and in the ensuing panic, when the teacher was turning the lights on and tearing down the window blackout stuff…..and most of the class were legging it outside…I calmly removed the magnet and ran out with the rest of the class.

I honestly don’t know if the teacher got in trouble for it, certainly she was still teaching long after I left.  I also can’t be sure how many people were scarred for life by the experience.  All I know is that my mates and I had a bloody great laugh, got out of a seriously boring lesson early and scared the bejesus out of loads of or classmates.

Good times.  Irresponsible and mentally disturbing times….but good nevertheless.

What nefarious schemes have you lot cooked up?

Claim to fame?

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Johnny Grant Star

Now I know that technically a claim to fame is only really valid if you have done something yourself, but I couldn’t think of another way to start this.

I suppose I do have 2 claims to fame in the truest sense of the term.  When my first long term partner and I got married, the run up and the wedding itself was fimed and broadcast by Sky for their Bride of the Day program.  We had to be interviewed and were filmed at home performing mundane activities that we shared together etc, all the normal contrite crapola associated with a couple in love.  We also had to play football together and “have fun” like two kids or something….totally false, but hey…it meant a free professional wedding video….and that’s valuable cashola that could go behind the bar at the wedding reception Grin

The 2nd time I got on the tele, was at Anfield during a Liverpool match.  We were sat directly behind the goal when Michael Owen struck the tamest shot in the history of football towards goal and I…noone else you understand….was caught on camera breathing in HARD in an effort to get the ball to get into the net.  I was particularly noticeable due to the fact that I had forgotten my jacket, it was 5 degrees and pissing it down…so I had to buy a rather expensive….and 2 sizes too small….jumper from the LFC shop.  I seem to recall looking like an inverted version of “larger” ladies that insist on wearing skin tight leggings at any given opportunity….oh god, I just threw up a little in my mouth.

That all said, I have been fortunate to meet some famous people in my time.  When I was a kid, Justin Fashanu had just been signed as the first 1 million pound black footballer to Nottingham Forest and we were staying with my Grandparents for a while.  Now Justin got banned from training by his manager and was wandering the Meadows area of Nottingham looking for something to do, when he heard the unmistakeable sound of people playing indoor football.  He stuck his head in the door and ended up training with my Dad, Uncles and Grandad for a 5 a side tournament.  If you ever read up on Justin, it was an absolute travesty the way he was treated, especially by his own brother.  Whilst I was very young, I still remember him vividly, I was sat at the side of the Gym, wearing his gold chains, watch and rings and watching this amazing footballer having a laugh and coaching my family…it was freakin’ amazing if I am honest.  He came by every day for 2 weeks if I remember correctly and was just this amazingly upbeat person.

Thanks to my Dad organising a football week when we lived at Guetersloh, I got to meet Murdo Macleod on a trip to Borussia Dortmund.  We trained (albeit briefly) at the Borussia facilities and got walked around the whole place.  Murdo was a great guy and was quite happy talking to a bunch of starstruck kids.  That said, I am disgusted that SP, as a Scottish man who claims to like football…has no idea who Murdo Macleod is…pah I say PAH!

Whilst on a course for work where I ended up staying in a hotel in the center of Manchester, I bumped into and ended up having drinks with Davey Boy Smith…the British Bulldog of WWE(F) fame.  I remember being completely shocked that he was there and even more shocked that he invited me for a drink with him.  I have never asked a famous person for an autograph, most of them I have seen when they are clearly having time to themself and I always feel that the last thing that they would want is people hammering them to sign stuff.  So my approach was a simple “I hope you don’t mind, I just wanted to say that I admire your work and to say hello, sorry to have bothered you”.  With that he invited me for a couple of drinks and we talked about all sorts.  A genuinely nice fella that guy, not in the slightest bit conceited about his fame.

I sold Jonah Lomus cousin (I think, could have been his brother..bloody eggchasers) a PC, this only stands out to me as his knuckle was horribly swollen and black n blue.  I found out later that he had gotten in a fight with a bouncer.  I sold Colin Jackson a fax machine, and in the process discovered that I lived about 2 minutes walk from his place.  I sold John Toshack a PC and barely spoke the whole time as I was completely awestruck.  I was the senior member of staff on duty when Rod Stewart wanted to close the bloody store down so that he could wander around….and refused Smile

I used to live down the road from Duncan Norvelle (he of “Chase me, chase me” fame.  Oh, and my mum had a McDonalds at the next table from that fat black woman who broke the garden table in Big Brother 93 or whatever.

Not bad eh?  Although I have to say that my fave claim to fame isn’t even about me.  A friend of mine (we shall call him J) is responsible for Gary Glitter being arrested.  I was the technical center manager at PC World Cardiff, and my friend was the same in the Bristol Branch.  Mr Glitter brought a PC in for some software issues and (as usual), to test software issues you basically go to the application and load something from the recent documents history…what he saw made him throw up whilst phoning the police…followed shortly after by a phonecall to me.

I am just glad that aswell as being a sick pervert, he was stupid too.

Good times