Shirts versus Skins
29 December 2007
The amalgamated hatrick of Alcohol, Communal Hotel Bedroom’s and Mobile Phone’s enables this website to bring you a video that should’ve seen the cutting room floor when it was taken over a year ago but manages to make an appearance purely due to the comedy cuff that comes from a beaten Beesy after being battered into submission by a bare chested (?) Darryl.
The camera work is haphazard to say the least but I doubt Scorsese or Spielberg could’ve done much better with a Sony Ericsson and a plethora of Strongbow on board. If this ‘un doesn’t deserve You Tube Fame I don’t know what does…
Pains, Trains and Automobiles
27 December 2007
‘You can start by wiping that fucking dumb-ass smile off your rosey, fucking, cheeks! Then you can give me a fucking automobile: a fucking Datsun, a fucking Toyota, a fucking Mustang, a fucking Buick! Four fucking wheels and a seat!
…I want a fucking car RIGHT FUCKING NOW!’ - Steve Martin, ‘Planes, Trains and Automobiles’, 1987
It was tight, our schedule. Meet at 8 in the morning, hire an MPV, drive into the centre of London, check into our Hotel and then get the tube to Alexandra Palace for a 1pm start on the oche.
The responsibility for the hire car rested on my shoulders, so, being borderline anally retentive I’d checked, double checked and emphasised our dilemma to Enterprise Car Rental in relation to our booking so as to ensure no problems and more importantly no delays in picking up our pre-booked vehicle.
Of course the plan ran about as smoothly as a fifty year old piece of tarmac covered in cruchy peanut butter. The 7 seater we were told was still out and not due to be returned until 9am at the very earliest thus plunging our well laid out plans into disarray. A patronising apology and a shrug of the shoulders was our only solace. Unlike Captain Kirk’s Ship this Enterprise couldn’t even get us onto Bristol Road let alone to boldly go where no man has gone before.
A new plan was hatched quicker than a mercurial nine darter and within minutes we were on our way to London in a taxi being piloted by a bloke whose questionable articulation of the English language should’ve been accompanied by subtitles and a spearmint flavoured tic-tac.
‘Dohwurree Ai Hib Sib Nib’ - ‘Don’t Worry I have Sat Nav’
We arrived at our Hotel with time to spare and settled down for a pre-tube beer at The White Hart, a pub which quite surprisingly considering the decor, MDF dado rail and Dyson hand dryer’s promotes itself as the oldest licensed Pub in London.
A makeover for Enid Blyton’s Famous Five is long overdue
The Tube was a much welcomed hassle free affair, the usually much derided Public Transport System playing its’ part in our journey with no complications whatsoever.
Sid Waddell sings the praises of the Picadilly Line
After a Black Cab to the Ally Pally and a Burger the ingredients of which may or may not have contained the raw remains of San Francisco Zoo Livestock we entered the dishevelled arena and took our places at our table.
The Ally Pally - Unfortunately more Alley than Pally
Palatial isn’t a word that I’d use to describe the venue however Ally (sic) is. The whole place bares the hallmark of a building that is way beyond its’ sell by date. Now owned by the Council what was once a beautiful building is now a place that requires at least a lick of paint and a couple of tubs of polyfilla to return it to a shadow of its’ former glory. Let’s hope that the revenue that events such as this one generates will be utilised to assist in upkeep and restoration as opposed to the less than successful ‘Hire A Bike’ (or rather ‘Hire a Bike with buckled wheels, bent brake levers and snapped chain’) initiatives that can be found outside various tube stations in the City.
The Majority of the afternoon and evening as this Diary will attest to is a blur as we cheered, drank and gambled our way through an afternoon session that we severely underestimated when it came to the number of beer tokens required.
Ladbrokes calculate the Number of Tokens Required for a Day on the Lash
‘Hold This Up When I go to the Toilet Please…’
…Ant requests assistance to ascertain what he’s watching, what he’s drinking and where he’s sitting on his return from the Bog’s.
Painswick Sunday
23 December 2007
Just a couple of pictures taken on the Sunday Morning Walk today…
Nosey Rosie…
View of Gloucester from Painswick Beacon…
Posey Rosie…
Rockit and Tubbs
21 December 2007
FACT: Michael Flatley is heterosexual.
FACT: Michael Flatley will kill you for saying otherwise. - Mr. Hunt, Flatley Fan, Texas, October 2006
When doing my research for this entry (well, ‘research’ might be stretching the definition of the word somewhat) I came across a Michael Flatley Appreciation Forum where someone dared to enter and question the sexual prevalence of said person.
One response stood out amongst the plethora defending the rubber legged, tubby tosspot…
‘Well he IS NOT GAY! And I know what is… YOUR FACE!’
‘Take your Flatley hate and get out of here and never look back, for he will come down upon you with a mighty foot and dance your head off.’
This was just a small sample and sufficient enough proof for this site to continue with the satsuma faced dipstick’s character assassination (well ‘character assassination’ might be stretching the definition of the phrase somewhat).
(more…)
Bling
17 December 2007
‘O hell! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I’ll read the writing.
All that glitters (sic) is not gold;
Often have you heard that told…’ - The Prince of Morocco in William Shakespeare’s, The Merchant Of Venice, 1596.
If you’ve got so much money that you’re just looking for new ways to waste it then feel free to donate it to the www.steveqpr.co.uk kids college fund. Alternatively, a couple of pretentious arseholes (or ‘Artists’ as they prefer to be known nowadays) called Tobias Wong and Ju$t Another Rich Kid have created the Gold Pill for you.
Is this what Tony Hadley was really singing about?
Basically as you can see it’s a pill dipped in gold and filled with 24-karat gold leaf. You’re supposed to eat it ‘…to increase your self-worth…’, however an added benefit is that it will make your poo sparkle like some blingin’ ice underneath a Homies Sleeve (that’s ‘a piece of jewellery on a blokes wrist’ if you’re not au fait with street lingo!).
At 200 quid for a couple of pills is this Genius Social Commentary or (quite literally) a Shit way to make a few quid?
4D
03 December 2007
‘I’ll Take Your Brain To Another Dimension.
Hold It, Pay Close Attention.’ - The Prodigy, Out Of Space, 1992
In the early 80’s ITV hyped up the 3D film genre. Blue and Red glassses were a must have accessory and the Special issue TV Times (with 3D Specs) sold out due to the popularity of the free gift.
Whilst some households were forced to follow Blue Peter instructions on how to make your own glasses out of crudely cut cardboard and blue and red sheets of cellophane, in the www.steveqpr.co.uk household my Dad was dispatched to procure some specs and didn’t disappoint. On the night of the show my parents and I sat down bespectacled and ‘ooh’d’ and ‘aaaah’d’ as a skull dangling on a piece of string swayed into our living room and flinched as an apache warrior flexed his bow and fired an arrow at us - This was the future of visual entertainment we were told.
It wasn’t, apart from a brief and unsuccessful soujorn into the Jaws franchise we never saw or heard of the third dimension again although if the tag line for the Jaws movie was to be believed, ‘…the third dimension is terror!’
Fast Forward 25 years. On Friday Len and I found ourselves at Babybond in Cirencester for a 4d Scan
