Tag Archives: Hackney

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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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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We went on a lovely trip – Part 1


I have a feeling that this post could end up being pretty epic. If like me, you have a tendency to scroll down the page before you start reading anything, do not be deterred…..it’ll all be worth it.  Believe.

Right then.  Me and the tart and Lewy Pooey and his horse hound all headed down to Dorset the other weekend in aid of Pooey’s birfdee.

Day 1 of our activities began on the Saturday:

We all jumped in the Almera and headed off.  To get where we were going we had to get on the Studland chain ferry.  I was very excited.  I was a bit sad that the crossing wasn’t a bit longer as it looked like it would be a thrilling trip, but when we got out onto the huge expanse of ocean I was glad that it wasn’t too far as the water was SO choppy I thought that we might all perish.  Luckily the captain was very experienced and he managed to save us from certain death.

Artist impression

Whilst we were crossing Gemdog informed us that Studland has the most popular nudist beach in the UK.  Luckily it was quite cloudy and a touch windy so we didn’t see any cocks or fanny’s.  Phew!  YUK!

To celebrate not seeing an old boys old boy, we stopped off at this big hairy pub and had a drink.  I had a pint of ale because I am a big strong man.  The tarts had a half and Lewy had a pint of 7% cider because he is sensible and was driving.

It is a very lovely pub isn’t it?  Lewy wanted some cash-back.  They were very accommodating and said he could have as much as he wanted.  He got £50.

Whilst in the garden we decided to get a picture of birthday boy and his TWO new camera’s.  Luckily Gem dog has an I-Groan, otherwise we would’ve had to take brass rubbing of his face.  Which would’ve been ridiculous! We didn’t even have any crayons!!

Lewey was wearing his new trousers.  He loved them he did.  He kept rubbing his legs and saying how nice they felt.  It made me feel awkward.  Like when you can’t stop thinking about wanking and you’re in the same room as your Nan.

After our drinks we headed down to the sea, where I skimmed stones and everyone on the beach watched in awe.  My technique is second to none.  We also wrote “HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEWIS” in the sand.  I drew some balloons around the text to liven it up a bit.  The bird said they were shit.  She always has to go a ruin and nice moment.  We went back to the car because she had fucked everything up!….and it was a bit chilly.

I think the balloons are alright.....

Back in the Almera we made our way to Swanage.  I had never been to Swanage, but my old school chums went there on a field trip.  My mate told me that it was one of the best weeks of his life.  I was very excited!

Not a little slapper in sight 😦

I had been told it was utopia of slags and 4 litre bottles of cider, imagine my disappointment then when we were greeted by a 1940’s street party!  Gutted.  Still, there was a 40 something woman singing “Johnny be Good” and she had massive fun bags.   Rough with the smooth I ‘spose.

We went to the arcade and tried to make our fortune.  I think those 10p slot machines where you try and win more 10p’s are AMAZING!  Now they’ve even put five pound notes and jewellery in there with them.  It’s like a little bit of Vegas right in Dorset.  While we were there Lewy and Gem dog won these guys.  I had my sunglasses nicked.  Everyone’s a winner!

I also bought a pair of 80’s brown Clarks loafers from Help the Aged.  I got a great deal at £6.99.  In London they would’ve been at least £30.  Although I did feel bad because vintage shops in London only charge so much because they like to give much more money to charity than those Dorset bastards!  I shall write a cheque for the difference to Beyond Retro.

We said our goodbyes to Swanage with a 99 and headed on towards Corfe Castle.

This is Corfe Castle.   We planned on walking up and taking a look around but none of us could be fucked and they were taking six quid.  That’s a couple of beers down there so we went to the pub to relax.

Corfe Castle is in Wareham. Gem dog told us that Enid Blyton based Noddy’s toy town on Wareham.  It had a little steam train and everything.  I really liked these that were in all the shops.  I especially liked it when I saw a little boys parents buying him one as a souvenier….awwwwww.

The tart tried to convince me that me that Enid Blyton was a bit of racist.  She’s a wolly!

When we got home Gem Dogs Mum said that the village shop at Corfe Castle had been on Mary Queen of shops that week.  It was pretty strange as we had bought some stuff from there.  Mary is good at her job obviously.  I was a bit gutted we missed Mary.  I definitely would.

Yum yum yum.

In the evening we went to Poole harbour.  We sat and had a glass of Rose and watched a drunk girl get taken away by the police.  She asked the policemen what she was “sposed ta ‘ave done”, they said “you know what happened”, “no I don’t” came the reply.  You “headbutted her didn’t you”.  “Oh”.

We moved on.  Loads of people were dressed as pirates a bit further on which was FUN!  Nice old style pirates I mean, the ones that say “arrrgghhh me hearty” and that.  Not those mad brown ones with speed boats and machine guns who say “give me your boat or I shoot dis woman in her face.  They’re awful they are those ones.

The highlight of the day for the girls was when we were in the taxi and “Nelly – Ride wit me” came on.  Me and Lewy Poeey absolutely fucking smashed it mate.  Taxi driver was lovin’ it!

If you wanna go and get high wit me
Smoke a L in the back of the Benz-y
Oh why must I feel this way? (Hey, must be the money!)

Ok.  So we’re only at day 1 and day 2 was better than day 1.  I think I’ll have to do this in two parts.

Still to come in part 2…..a treasure hunt…..deserted towns….wrong turns…..nitrous oxide……..military testing and our 1st McFlurry in 4 years.

Hold tight!!

RnR!!

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The Creators Project – Battles – United Visual Artists


Where have you been I hear you cry!?

Well….the thing is…..sometimes I’m so busy being fucking brilliant in the real world that I forget about you lot……that and I’ve just recently discovered Mario Kart.  It’s been taking up an awful lot of my time it has.

Granted I might be about 10 years behind you geeky fucks that have to buy everything as soon as it comes out, but I’m absolutely all over this shit.  I’ve kind of mastered up to the Star Cup at 150cc and now I’m trying to use different characters other than Mario.

I’m finding it a bit difficult adjusting my style to fit the others attributes to be honest.   Peach is a bit too lightweight for my aggressive technique.  Bowser is very cumbersome.  Yoshi, Toad and Luigi look/sound like utter cock sticks…….and don’t even get me started on Donkey Kong.  I can’t bear that cunt.

I was going to attempt a video blog on it, but after filming myself playing, the only footage was essentially me repeatedly screaming: “SLAG“…..”SHIT“……”FUCK“……”ARSEHOLE“….and leaning so far out of shot to try and get round a corner that it was pretty much useless.  Vaguely amusing, but useless.

I decided to show you this instead.  Battles have been one of my favourites for a long time now.  Their gig at The Astoria was not only the best gig I went to in 2008, but one of my best full stop.

The combination of the music and the lighting is something else.  I’m never quite sure who knocks up the visuals for shows like theirs.  I assumed (rather stupidly) that the band themselves would pull it together.  Especially now with people having alot more technology at their disposal.  This landed in my in-box this afternoon and now all is clear.

United Visual Artists have worked on a number of things for Battles and Massive Attack, as well as art installations and shows for fashion houses such as Y3.

All of their stuff is pretty mind-blowing, but it’s the work with Battles really works for me.  To totally “get” what they are about and come up with something so perfect for the sound is no mean feat.  They do it fucking brilliantly.

This is one of my fav tunes and if you watch the video you’ll completely understand what I mean about the synergy between audio/visual.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

I won’t leave it so long between posts this time.  I’m off to Dorset this weekend for Lewy Pooey’s birthday.  He’s a bit of a prat so he’ll probably give me plenty of fuel for all of our amusement.

Easy

RnR

more about “The Creators Project – Battles – Uni…“, posted with vodpod

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The kids came to me….I’m not a paedo.


A couple of weeks ago the bird hands me a dodgy looking envelope that had been left outside our kitchen door.  “What’s in it?” she asked me…..I don’t fucking know, you just this second handed it to me un-opened….is what I thought.  “I’m not sure babe, let’s have a look shall we?”……is what I said.

I didn’t really call her “babe”.  I’m not a complete cunt.  She’s my Pwincess.

Anyway.  It wasn’t anthrax.  It was a pretty illegible note from a child.   It took me a couple of reads to understand what it was all about.   I’ll translate in-case you’re having trouble:

Dear Neighbour,

Me and my friend were wondering if you could open the shed because he pointed out it would make a perfect den, if you’re not using it.

From Fred.

P.S. My name is Laouerna (pronounced Lawana) and I have written this note on behalf of Fred.

So I guess I should point out that we have a nice little garden in the new gaff.  At the end of which we have a lovely shed.  I say shed.  As you can see from the picture, I think you’ll agree it’s more of a summer house.  I know what you’re all thinking.  A flat in Dalston and a summer house!? We’ve worked hard, what can I say.

I remember what it was like to be a young lad, and Fred’s mate is right, it would make a bloody brilliant den.  So, being the nice bloke that I am (and to butter the neighbours up for when the house warming happens…..I’m always thinking me).  I sent them this note to give them the green light:

I pinned it to the shed summer house door.  After about half an hour of it being there I realised that Fred’s mate probably hadn’t spoken to his parents about their plan.

A note from a 26 year old bloke with a beard, to a couple of young lads about hanging out with them in a shed and keeping secrets wouldn’t look too good…..the sinister cartoon with paedo eyebrows would probably just add fuel to the fire as well.

So before anyone could petrol bomb the flat I nipped down and added the “PLEASE CHECK THAT THIS IS OK WITH YOUR PARTENTS!!”*.  A smart move.

I checked back a couple of days later and this had been pinned up.  It’s amazing.  I like that his Mum has been through and made corrections and they’ve had a bit of Mum/Son banter.

On the back of the note there were some more grammar exercises.  I remember my Mum doing a similar thing with me when I was a boy.  Their was a good reason, as I’ve never had problems with the correct usage of they’re/there/their, not like my Brother & Sister, there always getting it wrong.

So we’ve made some friends.  Been neighbourly and got some beers. Granted they were Buds which doesn’t really count, but they’re alright to palm off to visitors innit.

They were playing out there last weekend with their diggers and stuff.  I was pretty jealous.

It made me realise that I’ve grown up too quickly.  I now live with a girl who will never want to play diggers.  Where did it all go wrong!?

I was going to take some pics but I think I’m running pretty close to the paedo line as it is.

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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