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.

Ketchup

Ooops. Forgot to post these last few days so here's a quick catchup/ketchup (geddit?) on what's been going on in my oh-so-hectic life:

Sunday - er, not much. Went for some grub at my in-laws
Monday - opened a new savings account, got a new exhaust fitted for my car and went to a baby-gothtastic gig; namely My Chemical Romance, which made me wish I'd worn more eyeliner
Tuesday - er, work

So, as you can see, it's non-stop action. However, it doesn't stop there. Tomorrow it's ten pin bowling, Friday, a bit of theatre, Saturday we're having a tree chopped down and Sunday, more eating out with relatives. This is all going to have to stop. I'm 41 for God's sake and I need to take it easy.

Someone fetch my pipe, slippers and copy of 'Herbacious Borders' monthly.

Wemberleee

This isn't a post. Well, alright, it clearly is a post but what I mean is, it's really just a marker. By that, I mean that it's here simply to record an noteworthy event. Bear in mind though that this is noteworthy as far as I am concerned so don't expect anything really important like the start of the war in Iraq or the discovery of a real, working brain inside George Bush's head.

Nope, this is simply an historical note to say that the new Wembley stadium hosted it's first footie match yesterday, Saturday. This is, indeed an historic event in the world of footie, despite the fact that the match was a rather feeble under 21's match between England and Italy. It ended 3-3, so no England victory and worse still, the first ever goal scored at the £800 million, 90,000 stadium was not by an Englishman. Typical. Oh well, the stadium looks absolutely stunning although as it's still getting it's safety certificates, the crowd on Saturday was limited to 60,000 lucky punters. So, there it is. My first 'marker' post.

Isn't learning great?

Under pressure

My wife and I were out in her car yesterday. We were just loading the car with shopping when I noticed that one of her rear tyres looked pretty soft. Thus, we headed off to a nearby garage where we sidled up to the air pump.

The first three tyres all needed a bit of topping up, but then we got to the fourth one. On her car, the pressure required for the rear tyres is 28psi. We attached the air hose to the tyre nozzle. Instantly, you get a readout of the current tyre pressure on the machine. It said '7'. I thought there was a digit missing. The readout blinked and displayed '7'. The tyre, which should have been at 28psi was at 7psi. That's a quarter / 25% of what it should have been. Spectacular. I asked my wife if she'd felt like she'd been driving a boat recently and she admitted that the car had seemed a tad "spongy". A tad spongy? It's a surprise the bloody car wasn't cornering on it's sills.

Well, it's all inflated now and we actually suspect a slow puncture which we'll have looked at this week. So here's your safety tip for the week dear drivers. Check your tyres. And your oil. And your screenwash. And your lights. And your wipers. And your power steering fluid. And your shock absorbers. And your exhaust. And ...

Oh just get a bicycle.

A roof too Ferrari

I was zipping along a dual carriageway the other day and as I passed a line of slower moving cars, I espied a huge black, Ferrari F430, leading the line. Nothing strange about that you may think. However, the car (top speed of 196MPH) was only doing about 50 MPH.

"Strange" I thought. Then, as I drew level with the mighty Italian stallion, I saw why it was driving so slowly. The Ferrari in question was a convertible. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a bit of a problem with the roof. As I passed the £150,000 supercar I could see that the suited, chisel-jawed and extremely embarrassed driver was steering with one hand and trying to hold the roof down with the other. His fingers were gripping the outside of the roof as he struggled to stop if catching the wind and ripping off completely. There was clearly something badly wrong with the roof-closing mechanism and he appeared to have no option but to keep driving until he either got home or to a garage.

Now I have to say that I don't begrudge people having lots of money. Apart from footballers. However, anyone who buys a car that costs more than our house deserves to be the victim of 'crappy-flappy-roof-syndrome' and yes, I did nearly p*ss myself laughing as I wafted past him in my 1.2L Vauxhall Corsa.

Se ha comprato la a Lamborghini.

Triple Dutch

We've all read stuff that we can't understand. You know the sort of thing: credit card agreements, mortgage applications, DIY instructions and especially any type of contract. The Plain English Campaign (link in title) is an organisation that fights to rid the world of this incomprehensible drivel and has some brilliant examples of horrendously complex gobbledygook on their website.

So imagine my joy when I came across this notice, posted by my local council. It's basically advising people of some upcoming road closures due to a big event. It's 18 paragraphs long, tied to a lamp-post and full of literary cobblers. Here's one of my favourite paragraphs, Paragraph 5:

Nothing in Paragraph 3 of this Notice shall apply as to make it unlawful for any person to proceed in the lengths of roads to which the public has access as specified in the said Paragraph for the purposes of access to or egress from premises, provided that the said access or egress may only be gained by proceeding over the lengths of roads to which the public has access as specified in the said Paragraph, provided that the Event taking place would not be inconveniently interrupted.

Dear God.

Happy Mother's Day

To all of my reader's mum's,and especially my own - I want to wish you all a happy Mother's Day. I know this is celebrated on May 13th in the U.S, but you can still join in! Everyone reckons their own mum is the best mum in the world and I'd like to think that everyone is, in fact, right. Our mum's are the best and they truly deserve a day that celebrates just how wonderful they are. And let's be honest ...

... we wouldn't be here without 'em.

Surprise surprise - part 2

So after the initial stunned shock, our dear pal soon relaxed and entered into the spirit of things. This was due to two factors. Firstly, the fact that all his friends and family were there to celebrate with him. Secondly, beer. This photo was taken a couple of hours after he arrived and I can only assume that he actually knows the little old lady he's holding aloft, like a prize fish. Mind you, the lady in question seems chuffed to bits although, she had been seen sinking a few ales during the evening.

So, all in all, a fantastic night was had by all. The whole thing was organised in total secrecy by his fabulous fiancée who, to be quite honest, employed staggering amounts of deceit to keep the party a secret. All for a good cause though! During the evening I had the chance to enjoy some bopping on the dance floor. Seeing me dance is like watching your dad on the dancefloor at a wedding. Suffice to say, I always draw looks of amazement and awe as I gyrate, groove and grind. If you have ever seen David Brent's famous 'dance' scene in The Office, you'll get the idea. My wife has a different approach. She dances like an excited child in a chocolate factory, with her eyes fixed at a 45 degree angle, towards the ceiling. Together, we look amazing.

Anyway, back to our dear friend. His actual birthday is on Monday, so he's got the whole weekend to enjoy the partying until the big day arrives. All this for someone who definitely didn't want a party and especially a surprise party. So I'm sure all of my lovely readers will want to wish him a cracking 40th birthday.

Happy birthday Mr M.

Surprise surprise - part 1

We went to our friend's surprise 40th birthday party last night. Objective number one was - surprise. Well, as this photo proves, that objective was most definitely achieved. It's great to see someone who is totally and utterly gobsmacked and lost for words. He admitted to us later that he had absolutely no idea about the whole thing, right up until when he opened the door into the room where all 80 or so of us were gathered.

Result.

It's nearly Mother's Day!

Oh my God! I nearly forgot about Mother's Day, despite the fact that I keep remembering but then forgetting that I've remembered until I remember that I've forgotten. Oh the pressure. Fortunately I know a brilliant florist who makes up a super-massive bouquet for my mum, delivers it personally and takes payment after the event. Now that's what I call customer service.

The good news is that my mum absolutely loves flowers. Despite this, I still feel like I should get her something a bit more imaginative, like an elephant, a bionic elbow or some shares in Charlton Athletic. Some people are just naturally fantastic at gift-buying. I always seem to buy a present that will either A) cause minimum offence, B) be easy to sell on ebay or C) be a Will Young CD. Actually, I don't think 'C' works with 'A' or 'B' so let's forget that.

Whilst I'm on the subject, the most crap present I ever received was a 'collectors' tea-towel with a map of Cornwall on. It wasn't the abysmal depiction of the 'Tin Mine County' that was the worst part. No. It was the fact that it didn't work. Yes, a bloody tea-towel that doesn't work. It was moisture repellent. Honest to God. When you wiped dishes with it, the water just got moved around the plate, whilst the towel stayed sort of dry, like a sheet of plastic would. I've no idea what it was made out of, but suffice to see that it felt similar to that horror of all horrors - 'tracing paper' bog roll. If you don't know what 'tracing paper' bog roll is, then ask an adult. If ever something failed to do exactly what it was designed for, it was that deadly bog roll which absorbed nothing and ... well, just remember that the tea towel just moved moisture around...

Enough said.

Amazing fact of the day

A short but incredible posting today. Guess which country are the current World Elephant Polo champions? Nepal? India? Nope. It's Scotland. Oh yes, and you can find out more by clicking the title of this posting. Ain't that just berserk?

Mind you, having had a quick look at the World Elephant Polo Association (WEPA), I discovered that Iceland have a team. Iceland?? How many bloody elephants are there in Iceland?

About the same as in Scotland I suppose. Nil.

Where in the world ... ?

... PC World. Well, that's what the ad on the telly says anyway. I popped in to my local PC World this fine, sunny morning, as I needed a new firewire cable. Having checked on the Tinterweb, I knew that, obviously, I could get one cheaper online than I could in the shops. However, convenience and instant-ness (what?) are always worth paying a few extra pennies for.

Unfortunately, the price difference was a tad more than even I was prepared to pay. Online, the cable cost £9 which included delivery. PC World were asking slightly more for the same cable. They wanted £21. Yes, that's £12 extra. Bugger that. I was mildly miffed at this but my mood improved considerably as I was leaving the store. Being Sunday morning, I assumed it would be fairly quiet in the shop, especially as it had only been open for 8 minutes. I was wrong. The service and repairs counter already had a large queue of disgruntled-looking punters, clutching various bits of computer in their impatient little hands. I couldn't help but smirk (oh, and take this photo) as I thought that maybe if they'd perhaps bought a computer from another company (er, can't think which one ...) then maybe they'd be relaxing at home on a Sunday morning, surfing the Net, sending emails or listening to some nice, downloaded music. Hmmm.

Talking of 'where in the world', on Saturday, my wife and I popped down to Herefordshire for a family 'do'. Fine. Nice, easy 2.5 hour drive down to the place and enjoy the day. One slight problem. We entered the UK's Bermuda Triangle. In short, from arriving at what turned out to be 3 miles from our destination, to actually getting there, took longer than the 135 mile trip from our bloody house. At the end of one road there was a signpost to the village we were looking for. We drove down it. When we got to the end of the road, there was another signpost for the village ... pointing back the way we'd just come. This road was about 2 miles long and either side were fields. And a cow. No village.

After several mental breakdowns, failed mobile phone calls (no signal), asking directions from some ramblers and a man who was making a hedge, following some other relatives until their car broke down and my wife having to 'tootie-down' in a field to have an emergency wee, our fuel-starved car finally pulled up at the venue. We felt like Sir Edmund Hilary and sherpa Tenzing reaching the summit of Everest. Mind you, they didn't have pints of lager and a 13 foot table laden with buffet gorgeousness to bring them back from the brink of death.

World-weary explorers love an onion bhaji and a pint of Carling.

I told you

Still here

Alas, I have absolutely nothing of note to say today but I thought I should at least 'check in' so that you don't get all worried and think I've run away to join the circus or become a driving instructor in Laos.

Oh, well I have just downloaded a nifty little (free) application that allows me to make time-lapse movies. Expect something dreadful soon.

Yay.

A great lay

Sad but true. I'm excited about a carpet. Let's be honest though, our gorgeous new bit of floorware has not only been laid perfectly, but it looks the canine's love-spuds to boot. The photo shows the carpety lovliness sans furniture, in all it's glory. And the best bit? It's not royal blue. Yes, our previous carpet was a deep and disturbing blue. Blue, like the sea. Sometimes, when we were sitting on our sofa, it felt like we were on cross-channel ferry.

Now however, the lounge feels more like a room than a busy shipping lane and that's just great. The only downside is we still have 2 months to wait for our groovy new leather sofas to arrive from, er, Singapore. Fear not though dear reader, we shall be dragging one of our ageing sofas back in from the garage so that we don't have to go all Japanese and sit on the floor.

There's a pouf on its way too. Oh yes.

Dead stop

I don't usually rob stories off the Tinterweb but this one made me laugh. A 47 year old woman from Wales was caught by a speeding camera doing 41mph on a 30mph road. The problem was that she had only got a provisional licence which meant she was going to be in a bit of bother. So what did she do?

She said she was dead.

When the rozzers wrote to her she bravely ignored the letter. When the court then issued a summons, she wrote back, pretending to be her daughter, saying that her 'mum' had been killed in a car crash. Brilliant. Unfortunately the court were a tad suspicious and she ended up getting nailed by the long arm of the law. Well, I say nailed. She got a pathetic six month suspended sentence. I reckon she should have had both legs lopped off and the phrase 'I'm a crim' tattooed across her face.

Perhaps it's best I'm not a judge.

Fame and all that

It's Saturday, I'm at work and I have a headache the size of Izbekistan. That asisde, I'm just fine. T'other evening after work, some colleague-chums and I availed ourselves of a nearby hostelry whereupon the conversation turned (after a discussion about sewing lasted for less than 9 seconds) to 'famous people wot I have met'.

It's quite surprising how many famous people we have all encountered over the years. A couple of er, highlights included someone who accidentally laid a hand on the royal bosom of Princess Caroline of Monaco, in a swimming pool; someone else who got to interview big-faced laugher - Brian("Gordon's alive!)"Blessed in a caravan; someone who once danced with Kylie Minogue for "about 5 seconds" and finally me, who once put a naan bread on the head of Joseph Fiennes (bruv of Ralph) during a meal at a curry house in Birmingham.

However, the award for the 'Most Crap And Tenuous Link To Someone Famous' was the person who's ex-boyfriend's auntie was once the P.A for Ken Dodd . How rubbish is that? Mind you, I came a close second with my thrilling account of seeing the back of Aled Jones' head as he stood on a pavement talking to a rozzer.

Can any of you beat that?

Yay, Harry Podder!

My esteemed Scottish coleague is, as I've mentioned before, something of a literary enigma. Despite this high-brow exterior, she also likes to 'dumb down' and join the rest of us from time to time.

A case in point is Harry Potter. She's a big fan of the bespectacled wizard (as am I)but not to the point of being an obsessive. Some people, however, are a little more enchanted by the whole H.P thing and love nothing more than to chat in online forums about anything and everything 'Potter'. There are a number of websites that encourage people to discuss the minutae of the books; the plot lines; the hidden meaning behind certain fragments of text; the many complex relationships and inter-relationships of the myriad characters and even to point out the tiniest mistakes which Ms Rowling has dared to make in her (so far), six tomes.

However, the more amusing reading comes when you encounter the chat forums where some of our American friends reside. Here are a couple of amusing Q&A's that my colleague discovered. One correspondent from Utah proclaimed that Hogwart's was definitely in England because "the train never crosses any water to get there". Someone from the UK replied that there are, actually, two little-known countries called Scotland and Wales which are connected by land, to England. Another cracker came from someone in Wyoming who declared that the Harry Potter books are "based in a country called Kent, which is near England". Bless our little chums across the pond.

Oh what do I know? I had no idea Paris was in Texas.

Hot 'Hot Fuzz'

I loved it - the new 'Hot Fuzz' film with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost (Shaun of the Dead). Cracking action, humour and great gags. I loved the swear box with the list of rude words and their penalty. N*b was a 10p fine and I'm not going to mention the swear word which justified the £2 fine.

Nick Frost was hilarious as the country-bumpkin village bobby and I still laughed out loud at the fence jumping bit, although I'd seen it in the trailer loads of times. The massive shoot-out scene/s are just wonderful and I especially enjoyed the beautifully coiffured granny giving it the full bifters with the mother of all machine guns.

I could waffle on but it's accidentally now tomorrow (Wednesday) and I need some sleep. Suffice to say, a great action comedy with some truly memorable scenes. As well as some great dialogue uttered by Danny Butterman (Frost), including this question he asks Nicholas Angel (Pegg) as he's sitting in a classroom with a load schoolchildren:

Is it true that there's a point on a man's head where if you shoot it, it will blow up?

Boots and stuff

OK, I just realised that it's Sunday and I've not posted since Wednesday! I'm glad my car is more reliable than I am. Honestly, I'm rubbish sometimes. However, I'm clean, loyal and can use the toilet.

Well anyway, here's a summary of my life over the last few days. On Friday we had some chums round. They're a great couple and we always have a jolly evening when they visit (or, indeed, when we visit them) full of good food, good drinks and great chitty-chatting. On Saturday, me and my wife headed out on a mission - to get my birthday boots. We were fantastically successful (see the pic of some boots just like mine) in that we got a £100 pair for just £50. Bargain. She's great at hunting out bargains. We also got the cat a new cat-blanket thing due to us having to throw the old one in the bin due to an excessive amount of cat vomit being dumped on it last week. I did try and wash it in a bucket, in the garden but it must have been some sort of nuclear sick because even proper washing powder couldn't shift it. What a cat.

Today's been a tad lazy. This is mainly due to the rather dismal weather. However, I did witness the Arsenal and Chelsea bods having some pagga during the League Cup final which, sadly, Chelsea won. I just get bored with them winning everything at the moment. Just wait until Birmingham get back in the Premiership. Er ...

I'll tell you all about my craptacular Tesco savings experience soon as well as an upcoming hair-related event. Oh yes. And, I've also decided to start posting a few stories from my childhood. Nothing amazing, just the usual stuff like how I nearly died, our mental, lorry-chasing dog, my head-in-a-bus-door trauma and my church-based trouser accident.

Game on.

'Bob on' boiler

Hooray! It's like the bloody Maldives in our house now. The boiler is fixed and it didn't cost a penny. Boiler repairs is one of the dullest subjects known to man but when you've had no heating or hot water for a couple of days, it becomes a truly wonderful subject.

It was actually a tiny problem caused be, er, me. I should have checked the pressure on the boiler rather more than 3 times in two years. A simple thing but I forgot. Anyway, the boiler ended up with a bit of low pressure and .. and *yawn*... Anyway, the good news is that it's all fixed and working beautifully. The two chaps who came to sort it were great and a real credit to their company - Worcester Bosch. They got here dead early too. When I rang cuzzer services they came out with that standard (and dreaded) phrase "any time between 8am and 6pm". That always means hanging round the house for the whole day, only for them to arrive at 5.57pm. These chaps were different though. 8.24am they arrived. I was still in my pants. Mind you, I didn't greet them at the door in my trolleys, I did dress first. I'm no 'baked beaner'.

Well after a jolly half hour they were all done and they even gave the boiler a really good 'once over' before departing. Now being three blokes, at first, there was a lot of silence amongst us as one bloke checked the boiler, the other bloke checked the bloke checking the boiler and I checked the boiler-checker and the boiler-checker-checker. However, we soon found a common subject which resulted in some long, humorous and lively banter. Yes, we talked about footie. Fear not though dear reader, I won't re-live the football chit chat as I know some/most of you have no interest in 'the beautiful game' at all. Apart from the ELF Cup of course. Either way, the chaps and I had a good natter and I soon felt my feminine side evaporating. I didn't even offer them a cup of tea.

Suffice to say, the whole visit was very jolly and the blokes were really efficient and friendly. The other bonus of course was that our house no longer feels like 1970's East German warehouse in mid-winter and, apart from the cat vomitting this morning, the world now feels a whole lot warmer and more wonderful.

I think I'll just sit back and relax in my pants.

Off the boil(er)

It's winter. It's cold. We have gas central heating. Our boiler broke. Oh dear. Well, actually, it's not such terrible news. I was just being dramatic in the hope of some sympathy. OK, here's the exciting details: yesterday morning we found that the boiler (a very compact 'combi' boiler) had cried during the night. There was a fair amount of water on the kitchen work surface, but not enough to make you shout "quick, run, tsunami!" Anyway, we had to switch the thing off to prevent anything serious happening to it and of course, as a result, off went the heating and the hot water.

The good news was (and is) that a) it's pretty mild this week (about 52F in the day and 48F at night) and b) we have an electric shower and c) a gas fire in the lounge. This is all very good news. So yes, the house is a a tad chilly but really not that bad at all. Anyway, I called a recommended plumber/boiler company and arranged for them to come and 'do their thang' on Weds morning. This was the earliest they could come out. We didn't bother to call the manufacturer as we'd had the boiler for nearly two years so it would be well out of warranty by now.

However, I decided to have a quick look at their website and discovered that they cover their boilers for 24 months. Tentatively, I called their cuzzer service department and joy of joys, they confirmed that it is still covered under the warranty. They are sending a little chap round tomorrow who will hopefully fix the leak and we'll be back in business. Obviously, I may well post tomorrow saying that it's all gone horribly wrong, will cost thousands and we'll have to make a camp fire out of the cat, just to keep warm. Oh well, either way, I'm off to have a lovely warm shower now.

Oh God, I hope there's not a power cut.

Happy Birthday to me

It's my birthday today. Happy, happy, joy, joy. Of course there has to be a downside doesn't there? I'm working later on. Bugger. Never mind, I shall still be able to absorb the warm glow of love from family & friends. As part of my birthday indulgence, my wife has just zoomed off to Tesco to buy me some fake bacon so I can enjoy a luxury brekkie. Oh yes, I know how to live it up.

Prezzies this year are mainly in the form of cash (as requested by moi) cos I want to buy some funky walking boots so that we can go tramping over protected heathlands and enviromentally-delicate conservation areas whilst getting fit and healthy. Manky old trainers just don't cut it when your trudging through a peaty bog. Mind you, I haven't trudged through a peaty bog since I went on a miserable, November school trip to Wales in 1837.

Well now I'm 41 and all the hullaballoo of last year is but a distant memory. The only major event I have to look forward to now is being 50 in 9 years time ... er, that's a bit depressing so I'll not continue on that train of thought.

So happy birthday to me and to everyone else who has a birthday today: another Rich whom I work with, another chap with whom I work with, Paris Hilton, Barry Humphries, Norman Pace, Rene Russo, Patricia Routledge, Michael Jordan, Denise Richards, Ruth Rendell and Gene Pitney although Gene won't exactly be celebrating due to not being alive. Have a great birthday everyone, wherever you are.

I know I will!

Techno Ten Pin

All hail Ten Pin bowling. It's ball-chucking, lane-smashing, skittle-killing fun for everyone. But wait. Imagine your usual ten pin bowling experience with that added pizzazz of flashing, strobing, moving, multi-coloured lights, theatrical smoke and a thumping techno-beat. Oh yeah baby! You have Techno Ten Pin.

Four of us went bowling last night and we were expecting the bog standard (but fun) experience. However, as we waited to collect our oh-so-attractive, MegaBowl shoes, this huge, pounding beat started vibrating my vertebrae and we realised that something special was about to happen. Then all the lighting changed and we were plunged into a late 1980's techno dance club - but with balls.

It was fantastic. One big advantage was that the lighting and fake smoke hid the general tardiness and detritus that prevails in our local bowling alley. Also, it really made for some interesting bowling actions as you found yourself 'techno-ing' your way up the bowling lane before unleashing (at an average speed of 5.26 mph) your ball into the smoky, strobed abyss where the UV-lit skittles lurked. The whole atmosphere was fab and it obviously helped focus my mind just like Luke Skywalker's did when Obi-Wan was helping him nail the Death Star - "let the force be with you". Even at 5.26 mph. As a result I was victorious in both games (126 and 131) although I thrice failed to make a 'turkey' which is, apparently, 3 strikes in a row. Maybe I'll nail a turkey next time.

Gobble that, Skywalker!

Gorgeous crunchy snack of the day

You can't beat a puff. Especially a crunchy, sweet-chilli flavoured one. I just bought a bag of these beauties from a deli and they are SO delicious. Unfortunately they cost £2 for the 150g bag, which is a tad pricey. Mind you, my gob is still experiencing a post-nookie style afterglow as a result of the passionate assault on my taste buds. Yum.

I've emailed the company - 'Olives Et Al' (click on the posting title for a link)to find out where else (other than the odd deli) they sell their stuff so I'll report back as soon as I get a reply. Maybe they'll see this posting and send me some free puffs.

You can't beat a free puff.

Love love love

Despite my last post, I'm not a miserable git. Hell no! I love my wife. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my cat. I love YOU dear reader. I love loving and I love love. I love being loved. I love the love of loves loving loveness with lovely love.

Love it!

Happy Valentines Day

Well love is in the air today. However, me being me, I'm going to have a moan. Valentines day really annoys me. Why does love have to happen on 14th February? Why does love cost nine times as much on 14th February? Why are you called un-loving if you ignore 14th February?

Bloody commercialism. That's why.

My wife and I buy each other a card, just to prove that we haven't forgotten that it's 'Commercial Love Day' but we refuse to waste our money on buying massively over-priced flowers or having to endure that nightmare scenario of two hundred couples crammed into a grotty Pizza Express, trying to demonstrate their undying love for one another by ordering extra toppings for their 12 inchers.

Love and romance should happen spontaneously and naturally. Now this might sound like real bah-humbug stuff but it all seems so obvious. If you go for a romantic meal on 15th Febuary, you a) have a quiet romantic meal; b) enjoy the experience; c) did it because you felt like it; d) can afford to have a better quality wine and really treat yourselves. If you go on the 14th February, none of the above is true.

I feel special if something romantic happens to me on 23rd May or 7th October. Why? Because the date isn't the important thing - the gesture is what matters. Birthdays are different. They actually celebrate an event. And birth is a pretty big event. So keep sending the birthday cards. I dunno about Christmas. I'll rant about that another time.

So, let's see love flourish on every day of the year. Why not surprise the one you cherish on a day other than 14th February? Now that would truly be a sign of love. However, if you are celebrating today, then I hope you enjoy your chocolates, flowers, declaration of love, painted on a twenty foot banner, draped from a bridge, romantic dinner, edible underwear or whatever you have planned.

Just remember to start saving for next year.

And so...

My mind's a blank 'cos I can't think of anything exciting to tell you so I've simply posted a photo that I took last week. Hope you like it and I promise to post some thrilling stuff as of next week. And for those of you that got 4 inches, lucky you.

I'm talking snow ...

Snow my a**e

We've been warned all week about the impending severe weather, in the form of snow, which was due to "blanket" much of England today. OK so some parts of the UK really did have enough snow to cause a bit of disruption but honestly! All the TV stations had reporters around the country telling us how "appalling" and "treacherous" conditions were as they stood next to completely snow-free roads full of cars zooming along without a care in the world. The snow was just melting immediately on the super-gritted roads and even away from the roads, the snow was only lying about 2cm deep. It was hilarious seeing these reporters trying their damnedest to make the whole thing look and sound exciting and dangerous, when it wasn't.

Of course at the slightest hint of snow, schools are shut, the trains get cancelled, airports close and traffic grinds to a halt for no reason. Sure, there really were some places that did get a massive (9cm) of snow but you'd think we'd just entered a bloody ice age. However, what really annoyed me was that we actually got bugger all. It 'snowed' for about 4 hours but it was that really crappy snow that looks like miniscule pieces of polystyrene. All it did was waft about for a bit, land and melt. Rubbish. We'd being getting ready for a white-out and all we got was a feeble sprinkling of icing sugar.

"Blanket" of snow? More like a bloody tea towel.

Apple takes a bite

Yes I know you know. You know that I love my iMac. Now I don't want to get all computery (if that's not a word then it should be) on you but as you may or may not aware, there is a long history of rivalry, even naked aggression between PC users and Mac users. Personally I think people should just use which ever one they like (there's Linux too but that's just getting anal) and be happy with it.

However, Mac's are better.

No, sorry about that. There I go again. To be objective here, I use a Mac at home and a PC at work. For me, it's just a personal preference. I enjoy using my Mac and I don't especially enjoy PC's. And yes, I have run a PC at home for a few years in between Mac usage. I have a very dear friend of mine who got me all sorted (he built me one)with a PC and I was very grateful. It's just that ... I missed using a Mac and so, and I sort of 'retired' my PC to the loft two years ago where it still resides between the Xmas decorations and a box of photos. Sorry mate.

Anyway, the video here is the latest in Apple's Get A Mac campaign thing. I'm not going into all the PC v Mac bickering nonsense but I just had to put this ad up 'cos it really made me laugh. Whether or not it's fact or fiction, it definitely tickled my funnybone. Click on the title of this posting to go to the Apple ads directly. I hope you enjoy it for just being funny and not because it takes the urine out of Windows Vista.

Vista is funny though.

Bugger

I have forgotten to post for the last few days and there's only 10 mins left of Sunday. I had a work trauma on Saturday which was quite dramatic but as I don't tell you about my work (for reasons of international security) I can't divulge any more. Suffice to say it involved an ambulance, 400 people and me being the focus of much attention.

We went for a big walk today and it felt like summer. I even saw a butterfly. Honest to God. My wife and I feel super-chilled after 4 hours in the lovely, sunny countryside. My wife actually said that the unseasonably warm temperatures (caused by global warming) "made you feel better". Well that's that then. Always look on the bright side. Hope you like the photo - it's one I took today.

I'm sure the sun is getting closer.

55 degrees? In February?

Yes it's all too true. The temperature outside my house at 1.31pm today was 55 degrees farenheit (12.7 C) which is, well, frankly wrong. Apparantly, this January was the warmest in the UK since 1916 which is before even I was born.

Now whilst these mild temperatures are a great way to save money on the old heating bills, it's not so good for the flora and fauna. We've already got flowers starting to emerge which aren't due to appear for another 6-8 weeks and only yesterday I saw a bee wafting around the herbacious borders. Now assuming that we do actually get a bit of proper winter soon, the bees and the daffs are going to get nailed by any hard frost that turns up. Not good news if your a bee or a flower.

Having thought about it, there was only one night in the whole of January where we had a frost. That's berserk. I also learned today that grass grows when the temperature is above 5 degrees C. And true to form, our grass is growing like mad. I'm actually going to have to do some mowing - in February! Well, if this is global warming, we'd better start getting used to some big changes and I don't just mean winter grass growth either. Things could get serious much earlier than the boffins have predicted and I don't believe we're ready for it. A sobering thought indeed.

Oh well, at least we'll save money on foreign holidays.

Life is cruel

I just don't want to talk about it. Honestly. The other day we beat Newcastle United 5-1 at their place and tonight we lose 3-1 at home to bottom of the league Southend United. That's Southend United.

Anyway, aside from that gut-wrenching result, it's nice to welcome back some of my lovely readers who have returned to YBATYD after my short break.

At least you can rely on something/someone in this world...

Pant-Oh

You can't beat a good panto. Or can you? Oh yes you can, when it's an amateur panto. We had the pleasure of enjoying such an event on Saturday (the same day Birmingham were knocked out of the FA Cup by Reading)at a fabulous village hall. It was a performance of 'Treasure Island' which I never knew was a panto...

I really do admire people who do 'am dram' (amateur dramatics) especially as I have dabbled in the past. These productions are great because as well as some truly talented individuals you also get people who, er, really try their best. Actually, most of the enormous cast were OK, but bless 'em, the odd one or two were a little ropey. One lady did look like she'd just left work (at the accountancy firm) and walked straight on stage to 'act'. She looked terrified and her timid, rabbit-caught-in-headlights performance was a joy to behold. As was the severely stacatto delivery of another performer. It was supposed to be eccentric/amusing but just left most of the audience rather bemused.

Yet I mustn't mock. It really was a good show and all the mum's dad's and assorted relatives loved it. Mind you the whole thing had a weird effect on me because when I went to get my obligatory cup of village hall tea at the interval, for some unkown reason, I adopted an Australian accent. The woman who served me gave me a rather strange look, which wasn't suprising really because I said to her "G'day love. Any chance of a cuppa?". She just looked at me and said, flatly, "yes."

I do worry about myself sometimes.

Poor posting

I apologise dear readers. I have been decidedly remiss in my postings recently. The main reason is that the super-busy 8 week period at work has just come to an end and so I'm still a little 'all over the place'. I'm truly sorry about that. Really.

So, my postings will now get back to their slightly more regular selves - even if I only have the usual, dull tripe to offer you. At least there'll be something for you to read while you dry you hair, re-wire that plug or remove some old toe jam from your feet.

Well, the big news today is that I'm sending something back. To explain, the hard drive on my luverly iMac is getting a teensy bit full. So a few weeks ago I started researching external hard drives. I told you, you'd be getting the same old tripe didn't I? Anyway, after much investigation, I found the one I wanted - a Western Digital 'My Book Pro' 500gb firewire/USB hard drive (see pic). It was a very reasonable £149 so I purchased the beast.

To cut a long story short, it was cack. It was cack because it didn't work. When I managed to get it to sort of work, it nearly killed my computer. Added to that, when I registered it online, I was informed that my warranty wouldn't be valid! I was not pleased. Honestly, at one point my iMac sounded like it was about to explode. I was so alarmed I nearly had a trouser movement (a bad one - round the back) until I unplugged the 'My Book' which clearly saved my iMac's life. Poor bugger.

Thus, it's about to be winging it's way back to whence it came. I've already got my replacement waiting in the wings (I'll make sure I get the first one refunded before I buy the next one) and just hope things work out better the second time around. I don't want another bad trouser movement experience.

The stitching just can't take the strain.

A chill wind

Well it looks like winter has finally arrived here in Blighty. Sort of. This morning we have snow. To be more accurate, it's like someone has run round the streets with a bag of icing sugar and given everywhere the lightest dusting imaginable. So it's not exactly skiing weather but it is only the second time in the whole winter that the temperature has actually dropped to normal levels.

Weird. I suppose it's indicative of the ever-popular global-warming and if you think about it, it's hard to ignore. I've only had to scrape ice off my car twice since winter began. That's unheard of. In the newspaper the other day, they reported that the re had been a number of nighttime temperatures in December that were warmer than June, which is really bonkers.

Then we've been having all these stormy weeks full of wind and rain with 11 people being killed in the UK the other week as a direct result of the weather. Yet, until today, we've had no snow, ice or even cold temperatures for the whole of January. Surely that's not right.

Who'd be a snowman?

No bra required

As promised, here is a photo of me dressed as a woman (I'm on the right of course)during a little performance I was involved in on Friday night. The good news is that I didn't have to wear a bra. The bad news is - well, that's quite obvious from the photo really. Well, the show went very well and was seen by about 200 punters / victims who helped us raise £150 for charity, which was great. I can't tell you much else for legal reasons / protection of the innocent. Suffice to say, it wasn't exactly suitable for anyone under 18. Or over 18 for that matter. I learnt a phrase which I'd never heard before. And I'm 40 for God's sake. It's a sick world we live in, that's for sure.

Fun though isn't it?

Out of the Blues

Well I never. Not only am I finally better (five days of poorlyness) but I received a massive boost to aid my recovery, last night. I was already feeling more like my old self as I settled down to watch Birmingham take on Newcastle United in their FA Cup, third round replay. It was at Newcastle's place and as they are in the league above us and had won a great match at Spurs just a few days ago, my expectations were a tad on the low side.

I should not have worried. Birmingham ran out 5-1 winners! They were just magnificent and with every goal Blues scored, I just felt better and better. And to top it off, I've since learned that this was Newcastle's biggest home defeat in the Cup since 1914. How fantastic is that? If only you could get footie tickets on the NHS.

So that result has definitely lifted me out of the blues and now I can look forward to going back to work.

Erm ...

Still ill

Going to the doctor's this morning. Tried to go to work yesterday but failed to survive 2 hours.

Ill still...

Poorly

I'm ill. Been in bed for two days (Saturday and today) and feel worse than yesterday. Back to bed now.

Soz.

Oh cobblers

I can't do it. I can't stop doing my lovely, warm and joyful blog. OK, so it was only just under a week ago that I said I was having a break. Well the truth is, I was feeling just a tad bogged off and didn't believe I could keep YBATYD up to it's usual (low) standard. Maybe it was the January blues, maybe it was that mid-winter malaise or maybe it was trapped wind. Either way, I just couldn't muster my usual enthusiasm.

Well suffice to say that I've had quite a few people asking me to get back on the old computer and start serving up some more drivel/ramblings/rapier-witted observations. That was very nice of them, so thank you folks.

So, I thought "oh cobblers" I'll get posting again. And you know what? It feels great. The only thing is I can't remember what I've been doing in the past 6 days. I wish I'd never stopped the writing bloody blog now. One thing I can tell you is that soon I shall be doing something which I may regret. It involve me wearing women's clothes and saying lots of rude words. Let me just point out that this is not what I normally get up to. No really it isn't. However, if I have to wear a bra I'm a tad concerned as I don't know how to put one on. Apparently women sort of put it on back to front and then yank it round the front so that it's er, in the right place. I think I would favour the 'over yer head' method. Anyway, let's just hope I won't need one.

What the hell am I rambling on about? Oh well, never mind. As long as I'm writing something it's better than nothing isn't it?

Er...

Time for a break

After a bit of thought (unusual for me) I've decided it's time to give YBATYD a bit of a break. I'm pretty sure I'll return at some stage but for now, I think it's time to leave the blogosphere to other people.

Thanks for all the great feedback and comments you've submitted over the last year and I hope you enjoyed reading 'You're Born And Then You Die' during the last 150 posts. I've had great fun putting my thoughts down on 'paper' and would recommend it to anyone. So thanks again to anyone and everyone who has taken time to read all, some or even just one of my ramblings and maybe we'll meet up here again one day.

Thank you.

Anonymity is your friend

Come on don't be shy. I still want to know where you all are. Just the one response so far. Remember if you want to remain anonymous, that's fine because you can if you leave a comment. Just click on the word Comments underneath the posting and follow the simple instructions.

It's really simple. I managed it.

Where in the world are you?

Oh how I'd love to know where in the world my readers are. It's OK, I'm not a stalker (anymore) so I don't need house numbers or ways in round the back .. er ... of your property. No, I'd just be interested to know the demographic location of you lovely people.

Wow, not much of a posting is it? However, it's an important one so make sure EVERYONE sends me a comment (or an email if you're shy - bornthendie@mac.com) and then we can see if I'm an international superstar or just a local yokel. Now I happen to know that some of you are wafting about on the high seas of the world, so don't let me down boys and girls wherever you are.

I need to feel the love.

Well blow me

I just remembered this today. When I used to work at a large theme park I was issued with a fairly powerful radio (walkie-talkie) which I used to have to carry with me at all times. There were over a hundred people who had radios, so they were pretty commonplace. However, there were only a few of us who discovered a wonderful thing you could do with them.

I can't take the credit for this discovery myself, but I have to admit that it provided me with a huge number of giggles. OK, so here's what we used to do:

1. Go into the gents lav.
2. Enter a cubicle.
3. Wait for a victim to enter the gents.
4. Get your radio out.
5. Wait until the victim is in mid-flow (at the urinal)
6. Press the 'speak' button on your radio.
7. Suppress laughter as the radio causes the electric hand dryer to start blowing
8. Press the 'speak' button on your radio.
9. Suppress laughter as the hand dryer stops.
10. Repeat ad-infinitum whilst the victim becomes increasingly confused/scared.

I lost count of how many times I did this. Some bogs had cubicles you could just see out of which meant that you could time your transmissions to cause the most alarm to the victim. I don't know why it worked but I suppose the radio waves must have just triggered the sensor inside the hand dryer. Oh the fun you can have in a toilet ...

Er ...

I'm not Spiderman

I was bored so I did this quiz-thing to see what superhero I was. Apparently I'm The Flash although it was a dead heat with Spiderman. I'd rather have been Spiderman because he's a hit with the ladies and The Flash just sounds like a pervert. I'm also not impressed with the yampy yellow wellies. I would be better off with a pair of sandals.

You are The Flash

Fast, athletic and flirtatious.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

Who the bloody hell is The Flash anyway?

Oh Happy, Happy, New Year!

Life is full of ups and downs isn't it? We went to a really fun house party last night (that's New Year's Eve in case you're still hammered) and saw 2007 arrive in style. It wasn't a seriously late night as we were home by 2am. However, our fabulous cat Henry, was nowhere to be seen. Then we thought about it. The last time we'd seen the little fella was when we arrived back from doing a bit of shopping at 1.15pm that afternoon.

Now our cat is really, really great. He's nearly 5 and still very inquisitive which means he has more than used up his nine lives by now. The other thing about Henry is that he is very much a creature of habit, like many felines. So when we got home in the early hours of 2007 and he didn't appear from nowhere and trot at speed alongside our car, we knew he'd be in the house (via his groovy little catflap) waiting for some New Year food. As it turned out, he wasn't in the house either. We were fairly concerned but knew that he had done this sort of thing a couple of times before. However, what made the situation a little more unsettling was that he'd not been around since early afternoon. He never does that but realising there was nothing we could do at that time, we turned in for the night.

I didn't sleep well. I got up a couple of times in the night but Henry was nowhere to be found. By 8.30 we had both been awake for quite a while. We'd been calling for the cat and out the front and back doors but to no avail. Now I know it sounds a bit soft when people get upset over pets but hey, you give them plenty of love and affection over the years and of course you care about them. Suffice to say, the mood in the house was one of real sadness and sense that something really bad had happened to our cracking little (well large actually) cat.

I decided that I needed to do something, however pointless. I decided to drive round the neighbourhood, mainly to see if I could find any clues or, well, anything. I took my car keys and left the house. The morning was absolutely beautiful with a gorgeous blue sky and bright, winter sunshine. This made things seem all the worse somehow.

I opened the car door.

The bloody cat casually jumped off the driver's seat and out of the car, purring as he did so. I nearly died. The little fella was absolutely fine. We went straight back inside the house where he re-introduced himself to my wife. She was well chuffed. I was over the chuffing moon. He was pretty chuffed too when I gave him some tinned tuna for his breakfast. Then we started thinking about it. He'd obviously slipped into my car, unseen, when we got back from the shops the day before. The time now was 9.10am. That meant he'd been trapped inside my car for 20 hours. That's 20 hours with no food, water or anywhere to .... I ran straight back to the car to check for, er, 'gifts' left by the cat. Nothing. He'd not even had a sneaky tiddle. Bless him. Well, the cat is just fine and he has taken the whole thing in his stride - unlike us! I had to capture the moment though so - the photo above was taken just minutes after his dramatic return to freedom.

Now that's what I call a 'Happy New Year' !