Tag Archives: dark

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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Barge life. Alot like thug life but with chemical toilets.


Sorry I haven’t posted anyfink for a while.  I’ve been very very busy……watching 3 ugly boring Northerners fight it out for the coveted prize of Masterchef the professionals.

For those of you I’ve heard whinging about X-Factor rigging, you should all be aware of the consequences of putting the most talented people through to the final of a TV talent show.

So what if you can cook a quail to perfection.  I’d rather have an omelette cooked by a tart with nice tits if it means I don’t have to listen to the “talented” one droan on and watch them awkwardly scratch their face every two seconds.

This is them.  Not that anyone gives a fuck.  The one at the back is Northern and boring.  The one is the middle is a bit more Northern and quite a lot more boring, and the one at the front is proper Northern, proper boring, proper pig face.

Off they scurry back to obscurity…..and hopefully darkness.

Anyway. Enough of that boring shit.  I’ve got some BIG EXCITING news!  A few weeks ago I went on barge.  A BARGE! I bet none of you losers have ever been on a barge!

The most bestest fing about being on a barge is when you get to a lock.  Locks are so EXCITING!  We had to wait for a bit because a man was emptying all the poo and wee out of his barge right by the lock.  It smelled horrible it did.  He waved at us when he backed out and thought, urrrrgh, I just smelt your poo and now you’re waving at me like you think I haven’t just whiffed your innards.  The dirty bugger.  He didn’t even have a red face or nuffink.

Then Gilbey said that I could open thelock.

OH.MY.GOD.OH.MY.GOD.OH.MY.GOD.OH.MY.GOD.OH.MY.GOD!!!!!!

He gave me the big key and I ran all the way around to the other side.  Here is a picture of me half way round to the other side with the big key.  It doesn’t look like a key but it is a key, it’s just different from a door key because it’s a lock key.  The key was quite heavy, but I am big and strong and I carried the key easily:

“Hurry Up!” Shouted Gilbey.  So off I hurried.  I was still very EXCITED!

Gilbey didn’t give me any instructions about how to use the big key and he got very impatient with me when I was trying to work out how to use it.  He tutted at me and clambered over the lock to my side.  I had never been on a barge before so I didn’t know.

He took the key duty away from me and done it himself.  I don’t think Gilbey understood how much opening the lock would mean to me.

I didn’t want to get back on the barge because Gilbey had really upset me, but ginger Rich said I could have some of his Scrumpy so I thought “fuck it”.  When I got back on Gemdog gave me a hug.  She had a tiger on her coat, I like tigers and that cheered me up.  A bit.

When you pullover on a barge you have to tie it up, otherwise it’ll float away down to Limehouse and you’ll never see it again.  Gilbey gave Lewy Pooey the tie up task but he’s a bit of a pranny and forgot to untie it when we started to sink.  If you don’t untie it then I fink the roof will come off and you’ll have a cabriolet barge.  I thought that would’ve been pretty cool but everyone PANICKED.

Lewy Pooey was very quick to sort it out, but WAIT!……how is he going to get back on the barge!?  Walk down the slope and step on you say?  Don’t be knob.  If you’ve been drinking for 15 hours then you try and jump the 6ft onto the slippery roof.

I was well up for seeing him attempt it but Gemdog  (the fucking spoil sport) said “No no Lewis! Just go around, don’t be an idiot”.  Lewis is so under the thumb that he didn’t jump from the side.  Pussy.

He climbed down the algae covered ladder and decided to jump from there!  I never would’ve thought of that, but then I’m not a bright spark like him!

As if things couldn’t get any worse after being denied the opportunity to open the lock.  He made this jump.  Gutted I was.

We chugged on down to Mile End for a coffee.  I tried to bet Gilbey £200 to strip off and get a duck in a headlock but it was about midday by this point and there were families around, so we just went home to bed.

Bye bye.

RnR!!

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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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My 1st trip to the doctor in 3 years


Had to register with a new doctors last week.  Went in to pick up some new patient forms.  They also give you a little pot to take away and bring back full of wee week.  The handover’s a bit embarrassing but at least it gives you a chance to flush yourself out a bit before you give it in.  My appointment was in the morning, it’s never giving a piss sample first thing is it?  All Oringina-y and stinking of sugar puffs.

To get a nice colouring I had planned to fill it up the night before, but it slipped my mind.  I had to get up early and down a few pints of water to thin it out a bit.  I didn’t think it was going to work its way through in time but I just managed to force a decent one out and get there on time.

It was still quite warm so there was a fair bit of condensation in there as well.  I don’t know if that affects the results.  I was going to pop it in the fridge for a bit but I was in a mad rush.   I’m not sure if they give you any feedback or if they just pop a bit of litmus paper in there and see how you compare to various bars of soap.

I got a bit confused and tried to hand it to the receptionist with my forms.  To see someone recoil from your pot isn’t a nice feeling, especially after going to all that effort.  God knows what her reaction would’ve been if it had of been the first slash of the day.  I had to scramble it red faced back into my pocket.  It’s weird sitting there with everyone aware that you’ve got piss in your cardigan pocket.

While I was waiting I got talking to a old guy called Stanley.  Stanley Rag.  He was nice.  I don’t know what it is about doctors surgery’s that makes people think they can tell a stranger about their reasons for being there.  He was telling me in quite a bit of detail about his kidney infection and how much it hurt when he went to the toilet.  He was being quite candid and I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, so I told him about the piss handover fiasco to try and make it a, we’re all in this together chat.  He didn’t really seem interested.

I would help any of these women pick their leggings out of their fanny. Apart from Paris Hilton. I'd push hers further up. Maybe out of her mouth.

He also said that he has a cupboard full of pots and he occasionally just pops into the hospital unannounced with a little sample to see what’s going on.  I think Stanley is great.  I got the impression that the staff though he was a bit of a pain in arse though.

Poor ol’ Stanley, I think he just gets bored and wee’s in stuff to keep himself occupied.  I hope I live to an age where I can get away with shit like that.

I’ve got to go to the asthma clinic on Monday because that’s where all the cool kids go.  Trying to swing one of those hayfever injections as well to stop me being such a fucking baby for 4 months.  I’ll let you know how get on obviously.  I know you’re riveted.

Oh.  I almost forgot.  While I was waiting I saw a lady pick her leggings out of her fanny.  I’d never seen anyone do that before.  Perhaps if you have a hungry fanny then tight leggings aren’t really for you.

RnR!

p.s. I have normal blood pressure.  I’m 14 stone 2 pounds and a couple of cm’s short of six feet three inches.  I also have nice hair and a handsome face but the nurse didn’t put that on my forms because she’s a twat.

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There’s always one dickhead that forgets it’s non-school uniform day!


A page from my leavers book

Saw a boy on the bus today who had forgotten it was last day of term at school and was wearing his uniform.  All his mates were in their jeans giving him grief.  There’s always one dickhead!

I was pretty close to jumping into the argument and fighting his corner though to be honest.  I’d rather be in uniform, save the quid and not have to wear an Ed Hardy t-shirt.   You can imagine them in lessons today getting fuck all done, just whispering about what girl’s looking the best in their tightest casual clobber.  Lucky boys!

It’s a great day to check out how the birds are filling out, and if you played your cards right you could secure yourself a nice little toss off.  Them were the days.

I always used to raid my brothers wardrobe on non-uniform days.  A fine selection of Ben Sherman’s and denim jackets, had to race home and get them off before he got back from work and I got the old “who’s the king….say I’m the king” treatment though.

I was the da main man 3 times a year.  Well, I thought I was anyway.  I didn’t get much action though.  Probably a bit too unapproachable I reckon.  Yeah, that must’ve been it.  I know the girls loved my highlights.  Knocked ’em bandy they did.

I remember being in my final year and a 1st year rocked up on the last day of term with a carrier bag full of games.  I used to love that in Primary.  A day of eating party rings and playing top trumps.

Poor little bastard, what a massive fail.  Probably went through 5 years of senior school always being known as the fuckwit who bought in Pop up Pirate.  He got massive beats for that, and relieved of his games.  Best day in the common room that day playing Buckaroo…well….apart from when the proper nuaghty lad shut our head of year’s fingers in the door.  That was pretty cool.

I hated school but I loved that all that playground shit.  Dead legs, camel bites, peanuts and cupping farts in you mates face while all the girls sit around reading Smash Hits and bemoaning the fact that we were “SO immature!”.  Cars don’t make the man you know.  Being able to wipe bogey’s on your teacher without them noticing is pretty fucking hot as well.   Stupid cows.

Ummmmmm.  I’ve kind of of lost the point of what I was going to write about now.

Oh yeah.  Our unscrupulous landlords are kicking us out of our Hackney Palace so I’m moving in with the bit of fluff this weekend.  Got ourselves a nice little gaff just around the corner in Hackney proper. The bird’s obviously well chuffed getting to have me to herself.

What a way to spend a 4 day weekend.  Moving shit and trips to Wilko’s for toilet brushes and bath mats.  Right laugh!

I’ve got a stag do, a house move and the breaking-up of me and Harry Malteaster to fill you in on, but I guess I’ll do all that next week.

Have a wonderful Easter.  If I were you girls I’d steer clear of the eggs.  Summer’s just round the corner and most of you could probably do with shifting some timber, not putting it on.

Bye de byeeee.

RnR!

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Foals – Total Life Forever


I like Foals.  Have done since I, along with the rest of the world, got hold of their demo’s.  There was a bit of a wait for the debut album, unfortunately in that time they were so hyped they were never going to meet expectations.  Poor bastards.  I liked Antidotes.  Really liked it in-fact.  Even if the production left a little to be desired.

This new album is brave.  Moving away from the fast paced punchyness that got them so many fans, they’ve gone for a much more downbeat approach in Total Life Forever.  What I’ve heard I’ve really liked.  The first single Spanish Sahara is just starting to hit the play-lists….well….on 6music anyway.  It’ll probably be on Radio 1 in about August (we really don’t need 6 Music anymore do we!).  It’s ace.  Really fucking ace.

Ok, so the atmospheric spaceyness vibe seems a bit on trend what with The XX & Animal Collective albums doing so well last year, but so what.  It’s complicated, it’s layered, it’s intelligent and it’ll take time to really appreciate.  All good things in my eyes.

It’ll be keeping the lovers of immediate Kasabian type dross at bay……hopefully.  A gain in popularity whilst retaining credibility isn’t an easy thing to do.  I think they’ll manage it.  The average Joe wants more than a tub thumper now days.  Don’t they?

If they can follow up the album with good live performances, I think they’ve got the potential to make some pretty big strides in 2010.  I’m right behind them

Check it!

RnR

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Jewels & Muffs. How it went down!


It’s been a while. Sorry sorry sorry.  I’ve been busy dealing with shit in the real world. Fucking real world!  I’ll get to it.

The arts and crafts for that party of ours consumed me for the best part of two weeks.  Cutting out stencils, making signs and pimping up a hoody takes time you know.  So does liberating an industrial sized sub woofer from a City gym and typing up a 380 strong guestlist for a party meant for 180.  I shit myself a few times I can tell thee.

It went off alright anyway.  We had a few teething problems.  Lewy Pooey and me don’t know our arse’s from our cocks from our elbows with anything technical electrical, but we somehow got the PA going. Luck more than judgement.  Took a few tweeks from the people who actually knew what the fuck they were doing but all in all it didn’t sound half bad.

The lightswords came out too early.  The sweets and bubbles didn’t come out at all, and people generally thought I was peddling poppers when I went round with the glow sticks……me!…..poppers!….my arsehole is wide enough mate.  Minor problems.

Being a warehouse, being 4th floor and being only one toilet…..that’s more of a problem.  Alot of piss flowing down 60 feet of stairs apparently.  I didn’t see it, but I imagine it looked quite beautiful.

I played first and busted out my now standard reggae/soul set.  It was early.  No-one cared.  Gilbey rolled into town and smashed it to pieces, the two Scotsman were visibly shaken at the prospect of having to follow what he put down, but true to their word they played the hits.  Plenty of sing-a-longs and hands in the air.  It was an over-sized house party and that’s what we wanted.

A sign and hoody crafted by my own fair hand

A right pair of lovelies

I think they're both dead. Worth it though.

Gilbey and his Deejaaaaay stance

They were a quid. The pound shop is ace for shit partys!

Some nice people.

Chop her fucking head off! Go on!

These two thought I wanted to be Calvin Harris. Plums.

Unfortunately just as we were getting going the police rolled into town and gave us the heads up on an imminent raid (needless to say alot of people would have been in a bit of trouble) and closed us down.  Bloody bastards!  We mooched on for another half hour but had the plug pulled at 3 a.m.  It could’ve been worse….it could’ve been much much better!

It was great crowd.  Brilliant to see some old faces, meet some new ones and have a laugh.  Apologies if I didn’t get the chance to speak to everyone.  There was a lot going on.

I think we’ll do something again.  Somewhere licensed.  Somewhere with more toilets.  Somewhere we don’t have to worry so much.

That was that.

Big love to Hannah for the sub and glow sticks.  Harry Malt for the flyer.  Gilbey, Paul and Alan for the tunes and you ‘orrible lot for coming along and getting involved!

Until next time!

RnR.

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