Category Archives: Comedy

We went to Thailand so what? – Part 2


Right then.  Where were we?  Sorry it’s taken longer than I thought, but it took longer than I thought.

NEXT STOP – KOH LANTA:

We stayed in a bungalow.  In Thailand lots of people live in Bungalow’s, not just lazy old fuckers like here.  One evening, feet up, beer in hand I was watching the sunset.  Illuminated by the magnificent blood red  falling sun, a dog squatted, looked me square in the eye and had a massive shit.  A shitting dog’s a bit like a car crash.  I think he’d been eating chicken on stick.

A sunset even a shitting dog can't spoil

We’d heard that the Old Town was pretty but it was quite far away,  so we decided to get a scooter out for a couple of days  and really explore the island.  God I had so much FUN on the scooter.  It was orange and I felt like a right playboy with the tart on the back.

Had to put about 78 Baht in petrol in it on the 1st day.  That’s about £1.60 – £1.70.  Second day I only had to put about 60p’s worth in.  You have to give it back with the same amount of petrol as you started with you see, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have bothered to be honest.  The people at the petrol station fill it up for you as well so it wasn’t really a big deal.

Krabi:

Unfortunately our few glorious days relaxing in Koh Lanta had come to end and we made our way by boat to Krabi.

It was pretty grey when we got there, I said to the bit of fluff that it felt like it needed to rain.   We had a bit of rain early/mid afternoon and I thought it might brighten up a bit after that, but it didn’t.  It got greyer if anything.  In the evening it absolutely tipped it down.  Although it only lasted about half hour, and dried up pretty quick.

We left for the airport pretty early.  I thought we’d be able to grab a bit of breakfast after we’d checked in, but they didn’t really have anything.  It’s a really small airport.  Ended up just getting a coffee, biscuits and some Haribo’s.  The bird stuck mostly with Haribo’s, like she normally does.  I had a couple but they made my mouth taste a bit funny after the coffee, so I went back on the biscuits.

The flight was alright.  We got a sandwich and cup of tea.  They ALWAYS cut the crusts off sandwiches in Thailand.  It’s a bit strange, but it does explain why none of them have curly hair.  They must cut the crusts of in China as well cos them lot have all got dead straight hair as well.  “What do they do with the crusts?” I asked. “What do they do with all the crusts?”.  “What do they do with all the crusts?”.  She wasn’t listening.

Got me thinking that perhaps they send them all over to Africa, which would make sense as African’s all love the crust.  They think it forms an essential part of the sandwich.

“I think they send them over to Africa.”.  “I think they send them over……..”

Back in BANGKOK:

We thought we’d stay somewhere a bit fancy as it was the last leg of our trip……and faaancy it was.  Instead of having a wall to divide the bedroom from the bathroom, they had glass. Now I know what your thinking.  What if you’re having a whoopsie?  They’re not STUPID. They had a frosted strip across the centre.   If you were having a whoopsie you’d only be able to see feet……and a fuzzy(ish) outline of the rest.  Same in the shower.  Here is my artist impression.  It is 100% accurate.  ALL of it.

Fancy innit!?  I decided to stick with the shit roll while we were here.  It was difficult enough trying to use the bum hose behind closed doors, let alone when your girlfriend is pretending to watch TV 2 feet away through glass.  You can’t really get away with saying you were just having a piss when someone can see you sitting there for 10 minutes with your trousers round your ankles.

I’m a bit of a fucking culture vulture so we went off to see the Grand Palace.  The best thing about the Grand Palace are the thousands of people.  I also enjoyed the opportunity to get a sweaty ringer wearing a pair of jeans in the midday heat.  The buildings and that are alright.  They make a big fuss about an Emerald Buddha so I said to the bird; “we’ve gotta fucking see that!”.

Not even made of Emerald.  Jade it is.  Bollocks it was.

NEXT!

Oh you can’t go in that one.

NEXT!

Doors are locked on this one.

NEXT!

NO ENTRY

NEXT!

They’ve got a MASSIVE gold laying down Buddha.  I say gold.  You could see where they’d repaired it with plaster board tape, so it’s essentially a sculpted bit of dry wall that’s had a lick of fancy paint. That was alright.  It had massive feet.  Not sure why it’s laying down though.  Apparently it’s because he’s entering the final stage of Nirvana.  He wouldn’t have a massive grin on his face if he knew that Kurt Cobain had blown his head off.

NEXT!

Locked

Our Thailand adventure was coming to a close.  What better way to bring an amazing trip to end than by looking out over the Capital City of this fantastic country.  The views were spectacular, we drank cocktails and spoke of what had been our favourite parts of two of the best weeks of our lives.  I had to admit that being there, on that roof, with 3G reception for the 1st time in weeks was absolutely incredible.

The view from the 62nd floor roof top bar. Incredible.

 

That was that.  We returned home.  The flight back was belting.  We got to watch all of the SAME films as on the way out!

The tart said that this was her favourite picture from our entire trip.  Look at his little face.  Awwwwwwww.

Now fuck off.

Rnr!!

 

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Filed under Comedy, Global Issues, Travel

They stole bike, they stole my shoes.


I come to you with extremely sad news.  My bike, my lovely shiny new bike has been stolen.  It happened a couple of weeks ago but I’ve been too upset to tell you about it.  I popped for a couple Whiskey Sours with Gem Dog and Jimbo, came out and it’d gone.  Just wandered up and down for a bit on Mare St.  Not quite sure why.   I wasn’t sure what you’re supposed to do when someone nicks your stuff.

I’ve only ever had one other meaningful possession stolen from me before this.  They were a pair of black suede Air Jordan high tops when I was about 12.  I had them at the back end of my spiffy jeans phase in about 1995, I loved them.  They made me look like a right cool mother.

They were the one of the things that in hindsight I feel quite guilty about even having owned; no not because they’re absolute rascals!  My folks never had much money when we were growing up and I pestered my Mum for weeks to get them, probably making her feel really guilty and generally being prepubescent little shit to get my way.  Mum told me that if my Dad asked how much they cost I had to tell him they were on sale and were £30.  He did ask, I told him they were £30, he wasn’t happy, he argued with my Mum.  They were actually £60.

I’ve been thinking about stuff like that alot recently.  I’m sure I was no worse than any other teenager wanting what the other kids had, but now when I really understand the value of money it makes me cringe thinking about what a strain I must’ve put on my parents.

My Dad worked 12 hour shifts as a mechanic and would get up to do private work after 5 hours sleep pretty much everyday.  Mum worked as a dinner lady and done some cleaning when we were young for the extra cash.  £60 was probably a weeks food shopping for the five of us.

I never realised what a big deal a pair of £60 trainers would be for us back then.  I remember her craftily colouring in the scuff marks on the toes with a black marker pen when I came in from playing football in them one day.  She’d always give them a once over with the suede brush when I took them off and they must’ve had about 4 cans of suede proofer used on them in their short life.  All delaying tactics for the next instalment of bitching and whining and another £60 we couldn’t really afford.

Then one day on the way home from school some bigger boys from one of the rough estates stopped me and my mate and demanded our shoes.  We’d heard about some kids from the other secondary school having their shoes nicked but just thought it was one of those bullshit stories like getting your head flushed down the toilet or that film where the woman gets shagged by a horse and licked out by a cow.

So yeah.  They gave me a punch in the side of the head (made my ear bleed) and took my trainers.  It had been raining and I remember people in cars slowing down to look at the chubby ginger kid crying and pulling his soggy socks up at the side of the road.  All I could think about was my Mum meticulously colouring in the scuff marks and how up-set she would be if she found out I they had been stolen.

I recall walking in the back door of the house, my wet socks slapping against the vinyl flooring.  I walked straight up to my room, lay face down on my bed and cried for about an hour.

I never told my Mum about what happened to those trainers.  I told her that I left them somewhere.  She shouted at me, probably thinking I had chucked them as I didn’t want them any-more.  I cried again.

When I told Mum about my bike she offered to give me some money for a new one.  I am 27 and have a vaguely professional career.  I’m still her little soldier.  When I put the phone down I thought about my Mum and my Nike Air Jordan’s.

I love my Mum.

I did a similar thing after walking home from having my bike stolen, walked through the front door, lay face down on my bed and cried.

HA!  I didn’t really!  Me!? Cry!? Don’t be a prick.  I drank half a bottle of brandy and watched Babestation.

RnR.

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A conversation with a taxi driver


Cab driver:  “You go Archway? How far up hill in Archway, you know big hill Archway?”.

Me: “You think Archway’s hilly mate.  San Francisco, now that place has got some proper hills.  Last time I was in San Francisco must’ve been about 1966…no….’67 it was.  We were over there filming Bullit.  Great film, no-one understands just how much hard work goes into making a movie like that.

I remember some of the conversations we had with the director.  He’s there telling us we’ve got to get the car chase all done in one shot.  I was like “There’s no way we can fucking get this in one shot!”.  I mean I didn’t actually say that, Peter Yates was a notoriously hard guy; if he wanted something doing, you just got on and found a way to bleedin’ do it.”

Cab driver: “Mmmm”

Me: “So there we were, 20 of us sitting around in the hotel trying to figure out how the hell we’re going to get this done.  Bear in mind this is the late 60’s, we haven’t got the technology they do now days.  We haven’t got any of that CGI stuff.  We couldn’t just drive the Mustung over a couple of bumps, whisk it back to some bod in an editing suite somewhere and have him piss around with it.  Oh no.  We’re there till god knows what time building pulley’s and running round the city trying to scrounge bits of scaffolding to build rigs.  It was fucking nightmare truth be told”.

Cab driver: “So how far Archway you go?”

Me: “Anyway.  So somehow we figure out a way to do it and then we realise…..we haven’t got enough camera’s!!! We need at least 20 but we’ve only got 16, and 3 of those aren’t even on set!  Someone’s got to go and tell Peter Yates.

Obviously no-one wants to do that so we’re doing paper, scissor, stone to see who has to break it to him.  Then Steve McQueen comes over, he says; “look boys, I know what’s going on.  Pete’s having a tough time, the studio’s on his back to get this thing wrapped up.  If you go and tell him we need more camera’s he’ll fucking walk and everything we’ve done so far will be for nothing.  Let’s just go with what we’ve got. You get everything set-up and leave the rest to me.”

A gent he was Steve.  A bloody good driver as well.  You know he done pretty much all of the driving on that film himself?  Yeah he said to Peter Yates one day; “You’ve got a stunt driver!? But you’ve got the best stunt driver in Holywood right here.”  So he goes over to other driver, paid him a weeks money out of his own pocket and told him to go home!?  Then he jumps in the motor and we shoot one of the finest car chases in cinema history.  The rest is history as they say.

Cab driver:  “Straight on?”

Me: “I worked with Steve a fair bit after that.  We became pretty good friends as well.  He was a good family man was Steve.  We used to take the kids on holiday and to the football.  I got him into the Spurs, whenever he was in town we’d always try and catch a game.  Not a lot of people know that.  Got on well with old Dave MacKay.

Yeah, we all used go out a fair bit back then.  Bloody ‘ell could he drink!  I’ve never known anyone like it.  Used to inhale it he did.  Always had a whiskey chaser.  Loved his motors, oh yeah, he was always racing.  I used to joke that I didn’t know how he could ever drive a car the amount he used to drink! HA! Those were the days.  I miss him I do.  Don’t make them like him anymore.

Cab driver: “This is the Boogaloo”

Me: “How much is that mate?

Cab driver: “Twenty five.”

Me: “I thought you said twenty?”

Cab driver: “No twenty five”

Me:  “You sure? Alright. Here are mate. Have a good night. Bye”

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You pricks look like you need some cheering up.


Even by my standards I’ve been a bit of a grumpy bastard recently.  I’m not usually bothered about winter but this one’s never fucking ending.  Everyone seems pissed off.  It’s made me realise that being a dour bastard is only fun when everyone else is in high spirits and I can rain on their parade a bit.  There’s no fun in kicking someone who’s already down.

To give myself a bit of a pick me up, I bought me and the good time police a couple of tickets for Bestival this morning.

So rather than having a moan about how I want to reach down the phone and crush the wind pipes of the people who tell you to “listen” when you’re talking to them on the phone, or how the next person who feels the need to pull me aside in a bar and ask me why I have my shirt buttoned to the top will get a ash tray in the face, I’ll instead fill you in on some bright and cheery things that have been making the past few weeks vaguely bearable.

All in the spirit of Bestival.  Get it?

Right then.  First up is this tune by The Strange Boys.  I’ve been hearing it a bit on 6Music recently.  I don’t know much about them but if this is anything to go by I’ll be giving them some time.  It sounds like an old 60’s garage band with a bit of Charlie Parker chucked in for good measure.  Not a bad mix!

Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m a proper geezer and not a big My Little Pony fan.  Well, not since I was caught playing with them and my Sisters Care Bears when I was about 19.  Anyway, these are the nuts and well blokey.

Just one more thing.  There’s this guy called Limmy.  He’s a bit of a hit in the blogging world.  He’s been knocking out video blogs for a long time.  Some belters including how he likes to kill prostitutes on Grand Theft Auto and shit like that.  My sort of stuff!  Anyway, BBC Scotland have given him a series.  You can catch it on Iplayer, well worth a watch it is.  Now technically I shouldn’t be promoting his stuff what with him banning me from following him on Twitter.  He might be funny, but the prick cannae take a joke.

Oh and Master Chef is back on Thursday.  I bleedin’ love Master Chef!!  I’ve missed Gregg Wallace sucking off cutlery and John Torode looking like he might stab someone in the face if they fuck up a bernaise.  It’s amazing.  I love the seriousness of it all.  “Oh no.  That is a real shame.  You’ve got lumps in your mash.”  “*sniff sniff*.” ” If you give me another chance I’ll prove to you that I can make good mash.  *sniff sniff*.”  Wicked!

Hopefully these things will bring a smile to your face and put a spring in your step.  If they do I’ll be waiting near by to trip you up.  Bye bye.

Easy now!!

RnR

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