Eye Contact.

I had just gotten into a taxi in the posh bit of town with two friends on Saturday, when an attractive woman walked past. I had accidentally become drunk* in the course of the afternoon so I decided to attempt eye contact. This seemed to go pretty well as we kept the eye contact up for as long as it took her to walk by the car, "I am a TOTAL STUD!" I thought to myself.

Then I asked Rob (who was next to me) if he had seen what had just happened between me and the woman,

"I'm fairly certain she was looking at me" he replied.

"No chance! Not with my drunken sex eye lasers!" I scoffed back.
At this point the taxi driver told us he too thought the street side strumpet was giving him the nice-eye.

At this juncture we collectively realised what had really happened. What really had REALLY happened was a car full of men (two of whom were drunk and far too scruffy to be in the posh part of town), had stared/leered at an attractive woman from within a stationary yet running car and scared the shit out of her. She was most definitely not making eye contact, she was keeping her eye on the us in anticipation of a kidnap attempt.

I hope I don't make any similar mistakes when I go to New York in a week**. I may well get maced or shot!



*It really was an accident. I haven't been drunk since January 1st and was lead a stray.

**This whole post wasn't just so I could shoe horn in a boast about going to New York.

OH LOOK I AM A POP STAR NOW, OK?

I am now a bona fide pop star! Now you can make me feel validated by pretending to like this unfocused noodling that I made in my bedroom instead of going out! I recorded it on a dictaphone. Why not have a dance about to it, or maybe just stroke your chin a bit and look well serious. I reckon I'll be on CD:UK by the end of the month if my 100+ profile views on myspace is anything to go by, yeah 100+ sounds like loads. I also think it's only a matter of time before I'm gracing the front covers of such music press stalwarts as Select, Vox and Smash Hits.

I will try not to let fame and fortune change me, but it won't be easy. I will be getting a ruby inset into my tooth just like Mick Hucknall pretty soon, and JK from Jamiroqui has challenged me to a race in our sports cars.

Ps. Three posts in a week! WTF?

I'm glad I'm not really stoned right now.

I keep thinking about something I wrote in the previous post. I wrote "actually, I'm about as wild, free form and creative as this simile". I don't know if this makes sense. It is either:
A) A brilliantly self referential simile that has blown my own mind, and that's why I can't stop thinking about it.
B) A poorly constructed simile that might not even be a simile, and is therefore rubbish.

I think it's probably the latter, but even if it is, it still might be successful in getting my point across about not being very creative because I am even incapable of writing a fucking simile properly. That means that I might be "wildly creative and free form" after all, OR it could mean that this is a huge load of self indulgent shit.

Old Notebook / Twat Archive

A couple of years ago I briefly carried a notebook around to try and capture some of my wild, free form creativity (actually, I'm about as wild, free form and creative as this simile) for future reference. The contents of this notebook give a valuable snapshot into how much of a twat I was just two short years ago.

It appears that I had a big(ger) anti-Bono thing going on back then. The notebook is littered with reminders to "write about how much I hate Bono". I had also written some shit rumours about him not being able to tell the time properly.

There's also an idea to annoy a colleague by loudly interrupting him whenever he read aloud from his newspaper. What sort of person writes a note on how to annoy someone? Jesus, I was quite a prick back then, I'm still fairly prickish now only in a much more spontaneous way (free jazz style whistling in the office anyone?).

The only thing from thing from the notes that ever made it on to this blog was my "re-write" of Jurassic Park 2. I found this drawing on the next page from the draft, clearly a career storyboarding beckons:






I'm pretty glad I've stopped carrying a notebook. For one thing, I always felt I looked a bit like an informant in a Eastern Bloc country during the Cold War, taking down names of people to shop to the local officials (especially as there is a page with a tally against some friends names in the book!). Stasi stool pigeon is not an image I really want to cultivate.

I Hope They Die Before They Reform.

Hi! Long time no see, fuckwads. I have been busy watching telly and drinking sugary milk.

I hate how many bands reform these days so I have come up with a proposal to reign it in a bit. I don't know about you but I'm getting pig sick of all these OLD FUCKS cashing in and going on reunion tours. I reckon that people would be better off boycotting them in favour of watching something new and original. That is not my proposal though because I cannot trust that all the simpering morons who make up the general public will follow this through.

I propose the formation of a special committee who would be in charge of issuing permits for bands to reform. I would obviously be head of the committee because it's my idea and I'm the most furious about it. The other members would be picked based on their integrity and hatred of sell outs. I can only think of Steve Albini and Bill Hicks* at the moment but I'm sure I'll find some others.

Bands wanting to reform would have to submit a written request to the committee. In the request they would have to state their case for their reunion. The committee would then consider the request based on a number of criteria. These would be:

1) Are ALL of the original members involved in the reunion? If the answer is no then the request will be denied right away. This would also include bands where any of the band members had died. Nobody wants to see some dead guy's kid filling in and nobody wants to see 3/4 of a band. This definitely applies to missing singers. That's right Queen and Paul Rodgers, you bunch of smug dicks, you wouldn't have even got past round one.

2) If the band manage to meet the first requirement they will be called in for a face to face meeting with the committee. The date and venue of the meeting will not be told to the band until the very last minute. All band members MUST be present at the meeting. Not telling them when the meeting is or where will have a two pronged effect;
a) They will be forced to spend time together while they wait for the meeting to be announced. This will help weed out anybody who would be suspected of quitting the tour midway through because they FUCKING HATE each other and can't even be in the same room, eg. The Spice Girls. I'll admit that some residual animosity can be good for the audience. The hatred between a lead guitarist and a lead singer is often a major factor in a bands original greatness. BUT woe betide anyone who promises the world on a plate only to cry off after two weeks because "Scary poked my tit."
b) The meeting could be anywhere in the world, so it will test the band's commitment to the proposed reunion if they have to travel an unknown distance to a mystery location at the drop of a hat.

3) Will the reunion be detrimental to the bands legacy? Many bands were good because they were young and dangerous when they came to prominance. They made exciting records that only a young band ripped to the tits on speed and acid could have made. What could be worse then, than paying £25+ to see a middle aged man singing about "his generation" and casually sipping expensive mineral water in between songs? Surely he's now talking about your parents generation? He didn't hope he died before he got old, what he really meant was that he hoped he could build up a diverse investment portfolio and knock out a few shitty solo albums. Worse are some of the punks. Many have become the very thing that they were waging war against when they were young. People who claim they're just trying to get some of the money and acclaim they were due the first time round can fuck off too. Some times a band will be under appreciated in thir lifetime, SUCK IT UP! Going on stage 30 years too late and two stone too heavy is only going to make people wish that they could go back in time and kill you so they don't have to see you waddling, sweating and wheezing all over what made you special in the first place. If you were in it for the big bucks then why didn't you write pop songs in the first place? You dickheads.

4) The band has to write and record a new album before they can tour. The album will have to stand up to the scrutiny of the committee AND average 75% positive reviews. The tour set list must contain at least 50% new material. This will prevent bands trading on past glories and force them to compete with new and upcoming bands.

That's pretty much it. I know it sounds slightly extreme, but trust me. You're better off taking a chance on watching a new band than what is essentially one up from a tribute band. That way maybe in twenty or thirty years you'll be able to tell some youngster that you saw your lifetime's equivalent of The Velvet Underground (circa 1966) at some shitty dive when it mattered. They will think it's much cooler than if you saw the 1993 version that supported U2!

*I know that getting Bill Hicks on the committee would mean reanimating him, which obviously would be subject to the rules stipulated above, however, I am fairly confident he would pass.

Ps. I would also have never allowed Jimmy Page to come out the top of that London bus at the Olympics.

I Would Do Anything For Love (but i DEFINITELY won't do that, or that)

If anyone ever wants to tie me up in the bedroom, then I will say "NO WAY!". This is because at least fifty percent of all voluntary bedroom captivity ends in murder or theft (and I'm not just talking about the theft/death of your innocence). Every time this kinky practice is shown in film or TV, the person tied up almost always has something bad happen to them. I've never seen one of these situations end well. It can range from having your clothes stolen, to being stabbed in the shoulder with an ice pick, just like in Basic Instinct.
What I would suggest if someone wanted to tie me up, is that I would promise to hold on to the head board really tight. I might, after careful consideration, allow the use of a single layer of toilet roll to be used in the place of rope or handcuffs. This way should the other person try to rob, maim, or kill me, I would be able to free my hands straight away to defend myself and my belongings.
I told this to a friend the other day, and they asked if I would even let my wife (if I had one) tie me up. I'm afraid the answer would still be no. She may have grown disillusioned with the marriage and want to kill me to cash in on the lucrative life insurance policy she recently insisted I took out. This is obviously the worst case scenario, to lose both my life and my belongings in one fell swoop to my duplicitous spouse!
I suggest you heed my warning. Don't let yourself become a willing lamb to a very sexy slaughter!

How I will become Oxford's strongest man.

I am in a contest with some friends to see who can get the closest to the physique of Christian Bale in Batman Begins. The time limit is nine months. It will be me, Andrew (Mears) and Seb with Matty Lewis as the control specimen. The other competitors seem to think the contest is called "Batmanathon" but it is a shitty name so I refuse to recognise it. The REAL name of the contest is "Muscle Pregnancy". I reckon someone should get pregnant right now so we can have a good way of comparing our muscles to a pregnancy. I doubt this will happen so I may try and find a famous person who has recently declared herself pregnant and follow them via the saturation coverage in the tabloid press. I think I saw that most of the Spice Girls are expected to declare pregnancy soon.

On Friday we took the first measurements and contested the first feats of strength. I have the biggest calves. This puts me in a very strong position and I fully expect my amazing calves to fire me to victory.

If I win Andrew has to hand over control of his girlfriend, V, to me. She probably won't mind, I'll be incredibly strong and muscle bound and Andrew will be weak and puny. Plus I'll be able to use my new strength to open jars for her and ward of any potential suitors. I will also go to a beach where Andrew is and kick sand in his face to further humiliate him.

I WILL WIN THIS CONTEST. FACT. TOTAL FACT.

Dead Tasty.

All those women in the Philadelphia adverts are DEAD! All cut down seemingly in the prime of their lives. They probably died from eating exclusively low fat soft cheese, crackers and celery (maybe it's a bit like rabbit starvation http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbit_starvation). Philadelphia should make an alternate advert showing the grieving families of these unfortunate women, only showing them eating a rival low fat soft cheese at their loved one's wake. The alternate advert would have a two pronged effect:
1. Consumers would rush out and buy Philadelphia believing it to be a surefire ticket to heaven.
2. Any rival soft cheese would be forever associated with the loss of a loved one.

Grief + Promise of Eternal Happiness x Low Fat Soft Cheese = BIG BUCKS!

You Have 10 New Massages

This has to be the most inappropriate name for ANY business, let alone a seedy massage parlour! If you're unfamiliar with the film then this is what it's about (WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS) http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084707/ .What was Sophie thinking(the masseuse, not Meryl Streep)? The other two adverts are pretty awful/good too. All three were in the Oxford Times a few weeks ago.

C.Dificil

I was looking up c dificil because my friend Tim mentioned it would be a good band name, when I came across this ABSOLUTE PEARLER in the comments of a Mail On Sunday story about the same thing:
"My mother caught C Dificil and was told to "sit in it" when they were too lazy to give her a bedpan or commode - just think of all the bugs that left flying around the ward!".
FLYING BUGS! "SIT IN IT"! This really has all the things I love most about the Mail On Sunday readership and their zero tolerance approach to facts.

Two year anniversary (sort of).

Hello! Well who would've thought that two years on I'd still be writing in this blog every week? A lot of things have changed in the last two years. I have loved and lost (see posts about Mr Fingers, but don't ask me about it because it's still pretty raw) and developed several bad habits/phobias (see posts about scotch/driving). There's other stuff too but I just deleted it because it read back pretty dull.

What next? At the moment I've decided to get fit. I've been trying to eat well for about a year but I hardly ever exercise. Now I'm starting to exercise so pretty soon I'll be so ripped that my default greeting won't be a handshake, it'll be a bench press. That's right, I'm going to bench you.

The picture above sums up everything pretty succinctly.

HALLOWE'EN SPECIAL!!!!!!!

FUCK YEAH! It's a super scary Halloween special.

1. How to tell if stuff and buildings are haunted or unhaunted.

I have a few fail safe rules on how to work out if stuff and buildings are haunted. It's the main reason I've never seen a ghost even though I'm nearly 25.

• If someone is giving away something that is old but looks like it might be worth money, you can bet your own sanity that it's haunted to fuck! I was in London a couple of months ago and someone offered me an old school desk. "No thanks you bastard!" I said, "I got enough of my own problems without having to worry about the ghost of some victorian school boy telling me he's "So cold", I'll just lean on a book if I need to write anything!"


• If you ever get the chance to go into outer space you better not be scared of ghosts. Outer space is full to the TITS with space ghosts! Everyone knows about aliens or whatever, but what about all the animals they sent up before they could send people? They all died in outer space! If you think going up there will be all floaty and brilliant, think about this: how do you fancy getting bit off a outer space ghost dog? Fuck that!


• If you live in a old converted school house you better look at the first point I made. THEN MULTIPLY IT BY AT LEAST A MILLION!!!!!


• If you live above a butchers' shop, you need to do this simple equation: POINT 2 + POINT 3 X DEAD ANIMAL GHOSTS = HEARD OF ANGRY MURDERED COWS, PIGS ETC!!! GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE BEFORE YOU GET GHOST GRAZED INTO GHOST CUD!!!


• 2. There is no 2. It died and became a ghost. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

Nb. Hey actual small kids, don't worry if any of these points apply to you. Ghosts aren't real they're just for laughs! Except outer space animal ghosts.

Now go and buy me a Nintendo Wii.

It IS nice up North!

You know when you visit somewhere and you have some preconceptions about what its going to be like, but you tell yourself "It won't really be like that!"? And most of the time it isn't. This weekend I paid my first visit to Manchester to visit my friend Laura. I spent some of the train journey thinking about how accurate my view of Manchester would be. Surely they won't just play music by The Smiths, Happy Mondays and Stone Roses will they? And they DEFINITELY won't flail around, stomping they're feet on the spot in a fit of ecstasy fuelled bad dance moves circa 1990 while they listen to it will they? "Of course they won't!" I thought to myself, "What a silly Southern sausage I am!". But hang on a minute, because that's exactly what I saw quite a lot of people doing at various stages of my visit. Don't get me wrong, I'm not down on Manchester at all, in fact I loved it there, I was just a bit surprised that's all. It was actually pretty nice to see a place where everybody was really proud of they're town, especially coming from snobby Oxford. It was a really friendly place full of interesting buildings and shops, and I quickly felt pretty relaxed walking about the different places Laura showed me. I got a really nice Melvins poster and on Sunday we went to Urbis which is a big glass building full of pictures and projects about making cities more interesting places to be eg. there were some pictures of a massive pillow fight they had in San Francisco (I think). AND THE WEATHER WAS NICE AND SUNNY!

Have you seen my (two faced) cat? Or "How I Learned how i learned to stop worrying and HATE cats (again).

A couple of weeks ago I told you all about my lovely cat, Mr Fingers, well I'm afraid to say that he is gone.

I have not seen him for ages. Not since the people next door moved away in fact. I'm beginning to think that he may have gone with them! I really thought that me and he, had a quite magical bond with each other but it turns out that he is a two faced little sneak!

I feel such a fool. People warned me about how cats often like to have two or more families because they are naturally treacherous, but i was so insistent that Mr Fingers was different.

Before anybody says about him maybe getting run over, let me assure you that it is a total impossibility, such was Mr Fingers' level of street savvy and all round hip to the beat attitude.

I will never trust another cat as long as I live. So help me God.

Telly Savalas.

Here are some good ideas for telly.

1. Neigh-Sayer: King of 70's disco soul, Leo Sayer, rides around on a Shire horse casting aspersions on things.
2. Best of Both Worlds: Dead drunk, dead footballer, George Best returns to host a light hearted look at the best bits of both the mortal realm, and the afterlife.
3. Bennett Likes Beckham: Old, gay, northern playwright, Alan Bennett, speaks for the first time about his unrequited love for David Beckham.
4. I'll Be The Judge of That!: Beavis and Butthead/King of The Hill creator, Mike Judge, travels the English countryside in search of country fetes. On finding a fete, Mike makes a beeline for the vegetable competition. Biding his time, Mike waits until the prize for best in show is announced, then he causes mass consternation with his trademark cry of, "I'LL BE THE JUDGE OF THAT!".
5. Madsen's Square Garden: Hollywood tough guy, Michael Madsen (Reservoir Dogs, Free Willy 2), shows us around his beautiful square roof garden. In part two, Michael tells us how we can achieve such a garden for ourselves.
6. Dust In Hoffman: Oscar Winner, Philip Seymour Hoffman (Capote), suffers from an severe allergic reaction to household dust. In this programme we'll be taking an in depth look at what happens when there's dust in Hoffman.

me and mr fingers down by the school yard.

i got a cat recently. his name is mr fingers and i love him very much. we built a snowman together a few weeks ago. we called him snowy because he looked a bit like the dog from tin tin. we mostly go everywhere together, and i have just taught mr fingers to walk on his two hind legs, which he seems to like. let me tell you, we certainly get a few funny looks whilst we're trotting along down the street!
the other day we were doing a spot of weeding in the garden, and i spotted a mole hill. mr fingers, ever the more adventurous, tried to talk me into going into the mole tunnel to see what it was like.
after about an hour of negotiating, i agreed and we set off.
fuck me it was dark.

part ii

i thought of a much better version for jurassic park 2.
jeff goldblum and that blonde chick go back in time after they escaped from the park in the first film. except that she dumped sam neill to go out with goldblum.
sam neill, hell bent on revenge, also goes back in time but he has also found a way to control dinosaurs and use them to his own means.
goldblum: oi sammmmmm neillll!don't bovva! just because i had a bit of a flirt with your missus the otherday, there's no need to get a load of dinos on me is there?
nnnneeeeiiiiillll: well shows what you know gold-BUM! everyone who knows anything about dinos, knows that most of them thrive on a gang mentality or put more simply, the group dynamic.
old-bum: yeah well she's with me now, ain't she? so you better get used to it because we're pretty uninhibitted and will try anything twice. even pissing.
neeeeeeeeeeeeeil: DINOS ATTAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!
following his final commands, all the dinosaurs hover above cold bum and blondie like a swarm of killer bees, and then they start pecking them like chickens. (at this point it must be made clear that dinosaurs are really similar to birds, just like in the first film.

shit-ish rail.

"i recently went to newcastle on the train with my friend paul." that's what i should be starting this post with, but no, a million times no.
you see, because the railways seem to be run by twats dressed like dicks acting like wankers, we had to abandon that beautifully constructed yet deceptively simple plan.you know, getting on a train in oxford, and 4 hours later getting off in newcastle. instead, because we had booked "value saver tickets" online and had got the times a little bit wrong, we had to get a fucking bus to fucking london so we could get another fucking bus all the fucking way to fucking newcastle.
the reason for my earlier outburst against the people who run the railways really only applies to a small group of men, who on realizing that we had indeed missed our train, proceeded to rub it in as much as they could.
Train man: "No mate these tickets aren't valid anymore."
Me: "What?"
TM: "Well you see here on the ticket where it says VAL SV 328723762?"
Me: "Yep."
TM: "Well that means that you can only travel with this ticket at the stated time. Dave, come and explain to these lads why they can't travel with these tickets."(at this point another train man joins in and proceeds to tell us the exact same thing.)
Me: "Oh that's right i remember, we're meant to use the skills that are taught in schools from an early age, you know the ones paul, where they teach you to decipher British rail abbreviations and codes."
TM (becoming ever more smug and condescending): "If you want to get the next train it'll cost you £78 each."
Me: "Can't you make any exceptions?"
TM: "No, that'll be £78 each."
Me: "FUCK YOU! I WOULDN'T GIVE YOU THE FUCKING SATISFACTION! I'D RATHER CRAWL NAKED OVER SOILED BANDAGES FROM A PLASTIC SURGERY CLINIC ALL THE WAY TO NEWCASTLE THAN SEE THE SELF GRATIFYING LOOK ON YOUR CHARMLESS, TIME WASTING, JOBS WORTH, BEADY-EYED LITTLE FACE!"

In Newcastle.
when we finally got to newcastle it was really good!
they have this thing in one of their big department stores where in the build up to xmas you can queue up and meet jimmy nail! it was ace! i went on it twice.
also we went in this place for lunch and it was so lavish that i was all like "what is this place? some great lost palace of a long forgotten time, where kings longed for nothing and queens' faces were made of only the finest porcelain?" Then emma pointed out that it was a weatherspoons, so i had the "burger and a pint for £3.99 deal."

news?

hello fan!(i put fan incase there's only one person who reads this it'll make you feel special and if there's more than one of you it makes me sound modest.)
today is my first anniversary of having my blog.
my latest idea is that on tv all programmes should have a question mark after its title.that way when people are watching telly and can't decide what they want to watch,every time they suggest something it'll sound like they're asking someone if that's what they want to watch.worlds strongest man?richard and judy?working lunch?

image change

i am thinking about becoming a goth.