Blues 2 - 0 MOT

Oh yes. Get in. Result. Hubba hubba. Well I'm sure you were all having trouble concentrating/eating/operating machinery as you awaited the result of my dreaded MOT. Well dear readers, fear not. By a miracle of the Lord himself (should that be a capital 'H'?)my car, somehow, passed it's MOT. I was truly staggered and relieved at this news which nearly made my day.

However, it was bettered by some even better news. Yes, Birmingham nailed Sheffield Wednesday 2-0 this afternoon, sending us back to the top of the league. The situation now is that Derby must win in their match tomorrow - away at Crystal Palace to prevent us being promoted back to the Premiership. If they manage it, it will all be decided on the last game of the season, next week. My underpants are fair melting at the seams in anticipation. As I'm sure yours are too.

If footie ain't your thing, how about this? There was an earthquake here in Blighty today. Seriously. It was in Kent and measured 4.3 on the old Rectum scale. Or is that Richter scale? Anyway, the hilarious thing that made the whole story so wonderfully British was the report that a row of beach huts had to be evacuated for fear of a landslide! No death and destruction or buildings and bridges collapsing - just some wooden changing rooms under threat from a bit of mud.

I love this country.

Football fever

I always promise not to talk about football and I have to say - I'm pretty good at sticking to that promise. So I have no qualms about giving you some footie news today because it's really important. Well to me anyway.

My team - Birmingham City - could be promoted back to the Premiership this weekend. Oh yes. However, being Birmingham, we'll probably be lucky to escape relegation. Jesting aside and for those of you who actually care (that'll be just me then), if Derby lose at Crystal Palace tomorrow and we win at home against Sheffield Wednesday today and if it snows more than 7cm on the high street in Nuuk, the capital of Greenland - then we WILL be promoted.

Exciting isn't it? No? OK well in other news: On Thursday I found myself standing next to a bloke at a cash machine who was holding a full-size Scooby Doo costume, the other night. On Tuesday my wife and I sat in an Apple store watching a demonstration of Garageband which was being given by a member of staff. This was especially amusing as we were the only two people watching (they brought out seats for us) and it was our wedding anniversary. I know how to show a lady a good time. Mind you we did have a posh meal out that night so I'm not a total gonk.

And finally today - my car has it's MOT. A sense of dread and foreboding is sitting in my lower regions as I write because I am confident that it's going to be an expensive day. I haven't had anything major go wrong with mons petit voiture since I bought it and I've just got a feeling that today will be payback time. I shall let you know the outcome.

I still have a bicycle in the garage.

Cheese and barbed wire

A chum of mine does a bit on the side. Photography, that is. Although it's not his main job, he's starting to develop and expand his portfolio of work and I thought it might be quite nice to give him a plug. That's a mention, not something you'd find in a sink.

So he does photos for fun (like the one above) but he has also started some professional stuff which now includes weddings. However, I don't think his style is hours and hours of making people stand around saying 'cheese' as he arranges "friends and work colleagues of the bride only please" around some bloody fountain in the middle of a damp lawn. He's a tad less formal than that which is probably a good thing at a wedding.

Obviously he does plenty of other stuff, all of which you can see by following the link on the right of the page. He does take some rather good pics although I'm not sure he could make me look like a male model.

Unless he left the lens cap on, perhaps.

Daniel Corbett!

He is the most brilliantly berserk BBC weatherman ever. Notice his amazing and bizarre hand gestures, hear his fantastic tips such as "it's a two-hand-on-the-brolly-day today" and "so the extra-thick blankets on hand through the course of the night". A friend of mine at work does a great impersonation of him which always makes me laugh. Daniel Corbett - you gotta love him.

A good leathering

You can't beat a bit of leather. No, this isn't a kinky segway into a posting about thigh-length boots, S&M and dodgy lederhosen. It's simply letting you know the we have entered the world of leather sofas. Oh yes. Excitement abounds because we had our new leather suite delivered on Friday and it's luvverly.

Now I have to admit that I wasn't a fan of leather sofas previously. I think they're a bit like Marmite (or Vegemite for my Australian readers) because you either love 'em or hate 'em. Of course cheap leather looks like a rhino's arse but the good quality stuff looks, feels and even smells fabulous. Mind you, I didn't realise that you had to actually look after leather. It's like suddenly having a couple of children. You have to clean them and 'feed' them, otherwise they get grubby, dried-up and ancient-looking. Rather like Judith Chalmers. However, I've now totally changed my mind about leather sofas. They are so comfy, luxurious and (once the initial chill has gone) warm. Yum.

Well enough chitty-chat. I'm off to the lounge, to lounge on the three-seater before moving over to the two-seater and finally giving the big pouffe a bit of attention. The problem now is, I don't know which sofa is my favourite so I guess I shall have to spend hour after hour lazing around until I'm happy.

Dunno who'll do the housework...?

Blogging is hard graft

It is. But then I suppose it depends on what you're blogging about. If you blog about something that has a constant supply of ever-changing information, then posting your thoughts on all this info is pretty easy. So if you blog about sport, or politics or music or technology then you have fresh material to talk about all the time.

However, if you have to create your own content, things are a little harder. If your blog is supposed to be mildly amusing then it gets harder still. Such is life for me and as a result I often spend ages trying to come up with something that fits the remit I gave myself for YBATYD which was to look at human nature in a way that may just raise a smile for my readers.

I've specifically chosen to make YBATYD a place that's suitable for everyone and by that I mean that it shouldn't upset or offend, unless the words 'bloody' and 'poo' bother you. There have been times when I thought that I could get much more laughter-mileage out of a more adult orientated blog but decided that would just be taking the easy route. Mind you, there was this time I was in a Nigerian massage parlour with eleven Danish netball players ....

So, today's posting is just me musing about the sometimes Herculean effort I have to make to get something worth reading up on the Tinterweb. Obviously deciding whether or not it actually is worth the effort is entirely subjective so I just have to go with what I think works. Hopefully I get it right more often than not.

So, what amusing and witty comment shall I bring you today? Er ...

Executive joy part 2

How the other half live eh? My wife and I went to watch Leicester V Birmingham (footie) tonight. However, this was no ordinary trip. My fab brother-in-law has an executive box at Leicester and tonight we got to be VIP's.

Even before we got upstairs to the executive box area, we shared a lift with a multi-millionaire. Yes indeedy. The three of us approached the lift where we encountered what looked like a lift attendant in a long black coat with red epaulletes on the shoulders. He looked like a very short Russian soldier. But no - he was only David Sullivan - the owner of Birmingham City. We all got in the lift and he shuffled to the back, where he stood looking rather odd, especially as he was only about 5' 3" tall. He got out before us and wandered off in the direction of the director's box. He really was a funny little man. Oh, and fabulously wealthy.

Then we got to the executive box. It was amazing - table for 12 laid for dinner, Sky TV, fridge full of drinks, wine and nibbles, our own balcony with seats and a great view of the pitch (see the pic). We had a slap-up dinner and plenty of booze before kick off and then dessert, cheese & crackers along with tea, coffee and biscuits at half time. At the end of the game, following Blues' vital win, there was more wine and beer to be had before we wafted out of the ground and back to our car.

The excitement was not quite over though, for as we weaved our way slowly back past the ground on our way we home, we pulled out on front of this huge Bentley that sported a private number plate: D GOLD. This time, the VIP in question was the co-owner of Birmingham - David Gold. Obviously I was in a good mood so I gave him the thumbs-up and a cheery pair of celebratory, raised fists. He smiled at me and gave me the thumbs up too! His chauffeur (yeah, I know) was busy driving, so Dave could concentrate on acknowledging the grinning idiot in the 1.2l Vauxhall Corsa. Bless me. So all in all, a brilliant experience and a great result.

Unless you support Leicester.

Executive joy part 1

Leciester City 1 - 2 Birmingham City. What a great win for the Blues and what a way to see the match. Read part 2 for all the details. Meanwhile, here's a grainy video of the Blues first goal of the game.

Beautiful!

More tea vicar?

My mum and dad are moving house. The house they live in is a cottage that's about 400 years old and full of history. However, some bizarre history turned up the other day which is truly amazing.

My mum had a call from the estate agent telling her not to worry because the woman who is buying their house "has taken out indemnity insurance" against the church demanding payments for repairs. My mum explained that she hadn't got "the faintest bloody idea" what she was talking about. Well, it transpires that the woman who's buying the house has a very efficent solicitor who uncovered a bizarre element in the original deeds of the house.

In short, the owners of the house are legally bound to pay for repairs to the local church (which is nearly 2 miles from the house) as deemed neccessary by the Church of England. Seriously. It's just about the wierdest thing I've ever heard. My parents have lived there since 1979 and all that time, the local church could have demanded cash to pay for a new roof, some groovy pews or a spanking new font. My mum reminded me of a case from years ago in a nearby village where this happened to another homeowner who actually lost a court battle to avoid paying his local church thousands of pounds in repairs. Unbelievable.

I suppose you could plead aethiesm...

Shellsuit Heaven part 3

And on we go. Fear not though, I won't inflict the whole of the Reverend's diary on you:


Wednesday

Sister Maureen was discovered, still cowering in the Archbishop's medical closet after Vernon, the cleaner (and village idiot), accidentally locked the door. The Sister was unharmed, although her hips were badly bruised and she was unable to speak until elevenses, at noon.

Today we received news that the Archdeacon will be visiting next week. We are all most excited as he has recently had a diobolocatadichtomy and he will be giving a talk on his operation - with slides.

Thursday

One of our parishioners, Mrs Titkins, has made a small cake. Whilst we were most grateful, the unusual combination of strawberries and solidified gravy was not too well received. Matron is on standby.

The church cat, Timmy has gone missing. Sister Jennifer has placed a card in the newsagents' window pleading for information. Timmy is a distinctive creature, having just 3 legs, 1 eye and mal-formed tail. You may recognise him by a small, white patch at the back of his paw on the front left hand side.


Friday

Brother Ted has been stung on the face by a bee. Dr Monkfurnace has been called, and, as it is such a dire emergency, with Brother Ted's life in the balance, he has promised to speed his way here within eleven days. God be with him.

The missing cheese has been located. It was found by a parishioner in between 2 slices of bread and smeared with home-made piccalilli and 2 sardines...... in my knapsack. I have apologised to all concerned.


Keep the fan mail flooding in. Er ...

Quizzical pub

I love pub quizzes. Last night, my wife and some chums gathered our collective brains together and headed off the nearest hostelry from some oh-so-British entertainment. The joys of pub quizzes are many. Not least the customary self-importance and appalling microphone technique of the quizmaster, or 'Dave' as he is usually known. In this case 'Dave' was actually 'Nick' but he didn't fail to deliver.

The whole evening was littered with endless explanations of the scoring system, how the ten minute break would work and debates on whether or not you got a quarter of a point for 'Lake Lucerne' in the final, super-complex question. Nick delivered all of this in what can only be described as a 1970's British Rail platform announcement style. Thus, everyone had to possess the ear canal of a bat to determine what the bloody hell he was saying.

The questions were the usual mix of geography, music, literature, sport and children's daytime telly. There was even a photo round which consisted of a superbly low-quality photocopied sheet containing images of various, er, famous people such as President Roosevelt, Scarlett Johannson and er, Judy Finnigan. We got 9/10 in that round and overall we came a very creditable 3rd out of, well, well, at least eight teams.

And here are a few of the exciting questions we faced:

Who slew the Minotaur? Yes, it was of course - Thessius
In the nursery rhyme, who lost her pocket? Aah, it was Lucy Locket
In which country is the steepest street in the world? It's New Zealand (Baldwin St- Dunedin)
If you study Orology, what do you study? Mountains innit

Well, there you go. See what you missed? Oh and the other great thing about pub quizzes is the beer. So you get to drink and learn at the same time.

Now that's what I call a good night out.

Shellsuit Heaven part 2

Well happy, warm and sunny Easter to you. Yep, the sun is shining and it's beautifully warm, here in the UK, for the Bank Holiday weekend. See, miracles do happen.

Anyway, as promised here are a couple of mildly amusing tidbits from my old Shellsuit Heaven website:


Monday

The start of a new week in the ethereal parish and the weather is not good. Despite being here in Shellsuit Heaven, we still suffer the same meteorological misfortunes as mere mortals.

The hail has been particularly bad and the poor soul who suffered most was Sister Maureen. You may be aware that Sister Maureen is, rather sadly, blessed with a rather large nose, which is covered with pimply warts which are prone to sag and burst when impacted upon by sharp objects. This includes hail. A severe eruption of nasal pustules following the hail storm, meant the Sister spent over 2 hours in the Archbishops' medical closet. Our prayers are with her.


Tuesday

Brother Derek and Brother Ted have been attempting to restart our honey producing operation. This is indeed a brave move for Brother Ted who is extremely allergic to bee stings. He has been told that if he were stung, he could collapse and die within 4 minutes. Even if he survived, the poison could cause his colon to swell to the size of an oboe, according to the local doctor - Dr Monkfurnace.

Sister Maureen's nose has become partially detached from her face and we are awaiting a small miracle.

2 ounces of cheese has disappeared from the larder. I am investigating.


It's not real you know

Shellsuit Heaven part 1

A few years ago I had a website called Shellsuit Heaven. It was a homage to crap fashion and was inspired by that classic 80's fashion horror - the shellsuit. I decided that it would be great to celebrate the fashion nightmares that paraded around our streets and so I decided to launch the site.

My good friend who was, and still is a computer genius, designed a brilliant site complete with 'holy gates' which lead you into the world of awful clothing. The site consisted primarily of covert photos (not digital!) which I'd taken of members of the public whom I found wearing abysmal clothes. Obviously, the ultimate goal was always to get a picture of someone actually wearing a shellsuit. This was very tricky as almost no-one wore them after the early 90's. But then, human behaviour is a wonderful thing and, god love 'em, I did manage to get a couple of corking pics.

At the time, it was de rigeur to have a guest book where site visitors could leave their thoughts and opinions. This was really successful and I had a healthy amount of positive feedback. I also added a rather unusual element to the site which was a diary of the fictional head of Shellsuit Heaven (which was me of course) in the guise of 'the Reverend' who oversaw the 'parish' of Shellsuit Heaven. This was just a little humorous addition to the site that actually proved to be really popular.

So, I thought you might like to read a few of the Reverend's diary entries. They're not hilarious or even that witty. Rather, they're a mild distraction for a few moments and I'm quite fond of them, as I was of the whole, fabulously designed site. My chum even designed a brilliant online game whereby you had to drive the Reverend's ancient Citroen 2CV whilst avoiding 'holy' obstacles. Anyway, I shall bring you some tidbits from the diary over the next few days.

Bless you all ...

I'm back

It's been a week - a WHOLE week since my last posting and that is simply unforgivable. I'm always so consistent. As a punishment, I will cover myself in cold gravy, roll down a hill full of nettles and and allow my backside to be used as a bike-park, outside the library.

Or I could just apologise and promise you that normal service has been resumed.