The end of an era is upon us

A sad day

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/6252300.stm

Will probably mean less to you if you didn't go to Glasgow Uni (or similar)

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An interview with the wee man himself

who says there's no news in Scotland?

I know everyone's already seen it

but this had disappeared of You Tube for a while and now it's back! Bolt, ya nugget.

God it's been ages

so it's been a while since I've posted anything. Rubbish. Let's just get it clear at this point that I am aware there are a few hardy souls who do actually look at this thing once in a while and for them I can only apologise for the lack of witty banter that has been forthcoming in recent weeks. I'm also more than aware that I owe Lorna and Im a write up for their generous sponsorship of my mum (1 week to go!!!).

I've obviously been up to a great deal, rather than just being really knackered after work and content to sit and watch mind-numbing telly or go to the pub for a beer rather than write something.

So what's new? well I'm sat in my flat on a Friday night, having left my mates int he pub cos I'm too skint and don't want to be any more drunk than I already am. My flat smells a bit like a sewer - I think because the bucket under the sink is yet again filled with rancid effluent from the washing up. I'm going to wait and see if anyone else notices as I have had to lug the stinking, rotting, acidic mixture out of the flat on the last three occasions. Elsewhere, the crickets that form the major part of Borys the tarantula's diet are making an unholy racket in my bedroom from their vantage point under my radiator. I always thought crickets were quite interesting, majestic creatures, but it turns out that I might be thinking of cicadas. Crickets are ugly little black beetly things which don't sound at all like I'm on holidays somewhere hot. Still, they're going to get eaten by a large spider soon so it's not all bad. The problem is you have to feed them too, so it becomes a never ending food distribution cycle.

Next time I'm buying a stuffed owl - much less hassle.

sorry for the lack of blogging recently

bear with me - normal service will be resumed soon

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This time last year I was getting ready for Roskilde

This year I'm sat watching Glastonbury getting verrrry jealous.... I never really cared before, but now all the memories are coming flooding back.

Next year Rodney. Next year.

I added the "cities I've visited" application to Facebook this evening

37 cities in 10 countries, eh? Sounds almost impressive. Except that 75% of them are places like "Birmingham", "Glasgow", "Belfast" and "Brighton", whilst the rest are pretty much a detailed map of mid-80s middle class holiday destinations.

Still, in the past year I've been to Berlin, Gdansk, Malmo and Copenhagen, so maybe it's not too late.

New kid on the blog

I am thinking of retiring from blogging, as I will otherwise just get depressed at the gulf in quality between this tattie (like what I did there?) rag and the newest addition to my "links" - Withafacelikethat.

This is the forst foray into the internet revolution by my good friend, Mr Gavin Wilson. Unfortunately, he is a professional journalist, and you can therefore guarantee that the content of his musings will be significantly more interesting, wittier and grammatically correct than mine.

In fact, he's so used to writing entertaining copy that even my attempts to big him up to the point where he feels unable to live up to his billing will no doubt prove ineffective. I hope so. I'm as bad at keeping in touch with him as I am with everyone else, so it will be nice to get a peek into life in New York. Another alternative would be going to visit him - as I have been claiming I will for the past 3 years - but for the foreseeable future I think this is the best I can hope for.
Who knows, he might even have some celebrity dirt on his mobile phone he can post.

Withafacelikethat

Musicovery

I stumbled Upon this the other day - it's quite cool

Musicovery

I'm a bit pished

oops

I have Roskilde-envy

The paper had a feature on European festivals today. Made the mistake of looking at the line up for Roskilde. CSS, LCD Soundsystem, Arcade Fire...

200 Euro for a week of camping out in a dusty field whilst an 18 year old scandinavian kid pisses against your tent before setting fire to it - come on! Who's with me?!?!

I've made my can of beer last 2 hours

rock and roll

Egads, what to talk about

Always the way, isn't it? You finally get an opportunity to sit down and chew the fat/entertain the masses with some blog-situated frivolity and then you come over all shy. Probably just as well though - am supposed to be job hunting.

All I ask for is £25K, no uniform and Fridays off to go down the pub. Can't be that feckin hard, can it?

The adoring look of the father to be

Worshipping Stella's belly. Either that or Pino had just overdone it last weekend and couldn't stand up in the park. Still love the photo though.

Slowly returning to normality

I had a very civilised weekend this weekend - skintness helped force my hand and resulted in me having a few beers on Friday, a nice afternoon in the park and then a very civilised Saturday evening getting all cultured on the South Bank at the reopening of the Royal Festival Hall, and the best, most sober Saturday night's sleep I've had since I was about 14 years old. I slept like a log and woke up feeling so good I swore then and there never to drink again. Bounded out into the sunshine to meet Pino to play football in he park.... and then ruined it all when our "two pints" in the Prince Regent turned into "six pints". Was asleep by 7pm, woke up at 11pm not knowing what the hell was going on, ate a cheese toastie, and sweated my way through the rest of the night. And suffered the whole way through work today as if I'd been out on a bender for 3 days. Bah.

Getting cultured for free

At the reopening of the Festival Hall

25% of Londoners think I'm boring

Wouldn't-know-a-frothy-get-you-home-in-the-evening-anecdote-if-it-hit-them-in-the-face-and-
then-pooed-on-their-heads philistine twats.

Quality control goes out the window again

Quite how thelondonpaper manages to fill it's column inches on a daily basis is beyond me, as I am convinced there is a complete lack of submissions for their "columnist" feature. The latest proof is that they have printed my drunken mush, penned when in a state of some fuzziness on Thursday evening.

Whilst I was proud the first time I got a column printed, it's more a case of "quantity over quality" this time round, and I expect to get much less than the 100% more vote I did last time. About time I got a reality check maybe.

Anyway, there's a link here if you're one of the unfortunates who didn't manage to read it first hand (from the texts so far i can pretty much guarantee that Sarah is the only one who did). The one bonus from the online version is that it doesn't have the cheesy photo I decided would best sum up my personality, which i found staring back at me on the Tube somewhere between Pimlico and Vauxhall this evening (see below).

Of course, I'm still gutted I didn't get recognised.

The article

Summer's here...

Pushing the boundaries of journalistic endeavour

after months and months of writer's block (caused in no small part by people telling me they actually liked my previous column), I finally found inspiration this evening in the form of a plucky fly. Kind of like Robert the Bruce. Thanks to Gav for pointing out the obvious, i.e. that it was a spider in the story. So much for poetic license.

Anyway, it's not pulitzer prize winning and probably won't get published but here is my story. And to think I was worried I have nothing to contribute to the world.

"I have had many moments of epiphany down the pub over my illustrious drinking career, but not many have topped tonight.

There I was, chatting away with my girlfriend (and no doubt boring her to tears), when I glanced down. Lo-and-behold, a small fly was doing the doggy paddle across my pint. Normally a student of the “mush it into the table for being so cheeky” philosophy, on this occasion I adopted a more philanthropic bent. Don’t ask me why – perhaps it was the sunshine and company – but I noticed the little fella was swimming like dixie in a fruitless attempt to get out of his predicament.

In a stubby finger went - almost drowning him at first - until he rose majestically from the San Miguel, looking more than a little soggy. At this point I must admit I still thought it better to put him out of his misery, but a supportive word from my girlfriend persuaded me to give him a shot. He was a sorry sight, wings plastered down over his back legs, staggering in a manner all too familiar to those with a love of the pop, but then a remarkable thing happened.

Perched on my finger, he started to dry his front legs, then crawl up my hand before eventually coming to rest on the leaf-like greenery of my hoodie. A bit more staggering, then his middle legs started functioning, and things started looking up. I still thought “no way is he ever flying again”, but suddenly his back legs came free and he started purring his wings like an airline pilot checking the controls before take off. A few practice buzzes – “yep, all seems in order” – and off he flew into the sunset. I like to think he returned to the waiting fly army hordes and shouted “stop the invasion! The humans are actually all right!” - kind of in the same way as Woody Allen’s character in A Bug’s Life, but different. That, however, was a potential side effect of the lager.

It made me feel great, that little moment. Next time you’re tempted to crush someone, spare a thought for what might be. A fly’s life is short, but to allow it to live another day by a moment’s thought makes me feel like a better person - even if half that life is spent with a raging hangover. Welcome to my world."

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