Air shed

Even your average hairy arsed builder needs a shed to retire to now and again and so what if he is 40 feet up a scaffold pole at work?

He needs a place to house his lad mags collection. A place to contemplate life and what to have for breakfast. A place to just be at one with his inner child.

I give you the 'Air shed'. No real man can be without his...

Pavement artist

Just checkup yourself day by day... Wise words indeed from this cheeky pavement artist but I doubt this method would be possible by any living human being other than one of those incredibly bendy Chinese circus performers!

I have seen this picture before on the net, but seeing it 5 feet high in living colour somehow made it seem more real. Its a hideous thought. How does one breath? Perhaps not a good idea as the smell would be a bit over powering.

What is uncanny is the fact that the artist must have met my old boss as the likeness is amazing...!

6 nations rugby

Its been a while since I've been to Twickenham so when some free tickets presented themselves there was no choice. I felt it my duty bound to attend.

The occasion was the opening game of this years 6 nations and England's opponents were Italy. It was a bitterly cold day but 4 compulsory pre match pints of Guinness gave me the required warm glow that only alcohol can provide.

This was the first time I'd attended with the new south stand alterations, and I have to say now for the first time to me Twickers looks complete. It will now seats 82,000 supporters but believe you me tickets for the big games are as rare to get hold of as rocking horse shit! My free one had a face value of £71 would you believe.

The final score was a pleasing England 36 Italy 11

Frozen fountain

I recently came to a rather startling conclusion. I wasn't built for the cold. Its taken me over 40 years to realise the fact but realise it I have.
We all assume that we acclimatise to where we were born and live. Rubbish! don't you believe it. Having lived in hot countries for the last 5 years and now having endured 8 months back in England I now know that I hate the cold with a living passion the like of which I have never known before.

One of the kick backs of living in a cold climate is the fact that I have lived in London for most of my life and I hardly know my neighbours? Sure I know their names (ish) I will pass them every now and again on the street and nod, but I don't really know them. If you know what I mean. Which is sad.
I have lived in Thailand for 5 years and not only do I know my neighbours but I know nearly everyone around me for a 500km radius. This is because when it is hot you tend to live outside, when it's cold the truth is you don't.

So my advice to you all is - live outside and have a community based happy life. Which pretty much means if you live in a cold climate and aren't a hobo. Move...

Primo Blues

When I'm not working to fill King Gordy's ever swelling coffers I sometimes make my way down to the local hostelry to sample a spot of good old dog dying blues.
The other night I caught an outfit called 'Primo Blues' These guys were as tight as a nuns knicker elastic and aside from playing some hot porch swinging blues they also threw in a goodly portion of twiddly fingered beardy jazz.
An evening of good music combined with far too many pints of Batemans 'Rosey Nosey', a fruity Christmas ale of pant ripping ferocity. Meant that the next day was spent with my head in my hands and a well placed cork. Good night though...!

Mock hunt

Its Boxing day and by George its time for a bally good hunt. This apparently is what they call a 'mock hunt' as no fox will hopefully be worried to death in the process. Instead one of the disabled riders will have his or her horse confiscated, be made to don a yellow jump suit and ordered to limp off, only to be followed a few seconds later by the rest of the hunt armed with cudgels and screaming like banshees.

The whole affair has quite an eerie feel, as these middle England horsey types are rather a secretive inbred bunch who are rarely seen after dark and mumble in tongues.
It is mooted in hushed breaths that anyone who happens across one of their hobblings will never again sire a man child!

The hunt itself was roughly an equal mix of bi and quadruped forms. In some cases to be honest it was hard to tell the difference, but as a general rule of thumb I was informed if it shits on the ground its probably a horse.

After they had all emptied their bowels and wobbled off to cudgel the freak the rest of us retired to the warmth of the snug for a foaming pint of wallop and a damned good drubbing...!

Festive merry go round...

The festive season is upon us once more and good cheer is flowing like P45's out of a Woolworth's store.
Its all lost on me though as I strictly adhere to the Ebenezer bah humbug school of thought. Visa vie that crimbo is a total waste of time and money. Its all one big advertisement for 'Noel's beard party' or that churchy programme 'Songs of bollocks'.
This is the first time in in ages I've been in the UK at Christmas and as a consequence I'm having to endure the constant peel of 'jingle bells' emanating from every well meaning orifice.
If I see one more advert for Tescos value butterball turkeys, I swear I'll butterball someones fucking arse...!

Now don't get me wrong, if you have children (which I don't) then Christmas perhaps might be a joy, who knows? I remember as a kid waiting for the clock to strike midnight whereupon I would spring out of bed like a cartoon cat and bounce on my parents bed until I was allowed to open my presents. They must have been saints. Now I just want to work over the holidays or be abroad somewhere they don't celebrate commercialism...

Giant snowman

These poor saps tooling down London's Carnaby street don't realise they're about to be flattened by a giant snowman!
Judging by its trajectory at least a couple of dozen shoppers are in for the Christmas surprise of their life. It must be the result of recent global warming as flying snowmen in this area aren't usually this large.
This is the first Christmas I've been back in England for five years and I'm not looking forward to the experience at all. Christmas shopping, oh the pain and expense of it all...