I'm going to Hell

It seems a little strange to me that a country as small as ours would feel good enough about itself to put 'Great' in front of it's name. It makes me wonder who we're trying to convince, the rest of the world, or ourselves. I always hear people complaining about living here, but if you think about it a bit, it's actually an awesome place to live!

Here's five reasons why this little Britain really is Great:

1. We used to have the largest empire in history, spanning a quarter of the world.
2. Music
3. Free health care on the NHS
4. Drinking at 18
5. Sex at 16

Sure we always bang on about what we used to own, but the point is when this country was a little younger we really were an over-achieving bunch. We make up for that now by continually losing to the rest of the world at sports we invented.

We still have good music, and an amazing history of music, even inventing Metal (Thanks Ozzy!). But we're also famous for the Beatles, The Who and The Rolling Stones. Not to mention more recent great bands like Led Zeppelin, Queen, Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. We were also well into Punk, with the Sex Pistols and The Clash. In the 80s there was New Wave, but the less said about that the better.

I like this country's drinking culture. It's always raised as a negative, but I myself am a binge drinker, and I like doing it. I like that I could drink (legally) from 18, and have sex at 16, I felt I was old enough and responsible enough to do those things. I still drink as much as I did at 15 18 and I don't plan on slowing down. Sure this may eventually lead to some problems later in my life, but on the positive side, health care is free!

Labels: drinking, fun, health, history, music, nostalgia, teenagers, UK

Happy New Year! I know it's late, as always. I've not had the greatest start to the year, probably better than last year, but still not great. After the God of Hangovers finally decided to move on from the party he and his insane, screeching hyena entourage were having inside my skull on the 2nd of January, I was granted a day of reprieve until I fell ill on the 4th. After a miserable weekend spent on the couch curled up with the Wench and a duvet I got back to work on the Monday.

So I've been catching up with stuff since then. Cleaning up, doing work, blah blah, the usual grind. Every so often I need to remind myself of a few things:

1. 2007 is over
2. I have a new car
3. I'm not ill any more
4. 2008 can finally get going
5. I'm getting married this year!

We actually bought our car last year, finally getting rid of one of the things that made 2007 so unbearable. The car cost £600 when we bought it, since then we've spent at least 3 times that on keeping it running. No longer will things drop off our car unexpectedly, deflate, collapse, spin away or break apart. Fingers crossed.

The other big news is that this is the year I make the Wench an honest woman. Not that she's not an honest woman now, it's a bit of a stupid expression really. The realisation that we have less than nine months left to plan, book and arrange our wedding was a bit of a shock. I'm not really involved in the planning so far, which can only be a good thing, it seems to be ticking along nicely with the Wench and her mum doing their thing. As long as I get my pimp cane, top hat and topless ushers I'll be fine.

Labels: crap, drinking, hangover, health, holiday, wedding, wench

Another year has snuck past me almost unnoticed and Day of the Ninja has once again past. As usual I'm a little slow on the uptake so my post about it is a day few days late. Or I'm so ninja I posted this yesterday on Friday and no one noticed... See it's so good you don't even notice the alterations I've made!

Anyway, for those of you wishing to become ninjas, below I've listed the Top 5 characteristics a ninja requires:

1. Black clothes
2. Silence
3. Skills in all types of combat
4. Stealth
5. Being 'Ninja'

I know what your thinking. Silence and stealth? Surely they're the same thing? And that's why you'll never be a ninja. Silence is simply the absence of noise, but stealth is the ability to make yourself invisible. To truly become a part of the wall your clinging to; to strike from the shadows without being seen; to melt into the wind to make your escape.

The most important point is to be 'ninja'. This is very hard to explain. There are certain personalities who just can't be ninjas. You don't have the mindset, the patience or the determination. Being 'ninja' isn't something that can be taught, you have to have the instinct. It's the sort of thing your born with, like the ability to drink your bodyweight in vodka, or being ravishingly handsome. Unfortunately for me, neither of those skills is particularly useful in becoming a ninja.

Labels: comedy, drinking, fun, ninja

It's been quite a while since I've had to try and pull a girl. I've been with the Wench for so long it seems like forever (Eight years, I didn't forget, it was a joke! Not the face!), so I've not had much use for chat up lines. Of course before I met the Wench I never had to resort to such vulgar tactics, being the suave lady killer that I am.

Below are a few of the worst chat up lines I've ever had the misfortune of hearing. And when I say hearing I don't mean they were tried on me, otherwise I may very well have not been single when the Wench came around. Here they are:

1. Fat Penguin? (It breaks the ice!)
2. If you were snot I'd pick you first.
3. You might not be the best looking girl here, but beauty is only a light switch away.
4. My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in.
5. Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?

I did in fact lie before. Not about being a debonair casanova, that was all true, but about never using a chat up line. In my extensive experience it's always best to get the object of your affections on your good side, and this may involve getting her to smile. Of course this requires a certain amount of guess work as to whether or not you'll get a positive response, and which line to use. Even the tried and tested 'Can I buy you a drink?' is a chat up line, so most men at some point have used a line.

I wouldn't recommend using any of the gems above, although a variation of the first featuring a chubby polar bear did get me a smile once. As far as the others are concerned it's probably best to be complementary, even if the line is so cheesy it's funny. I'd steer clear of offering to let a girl sniff a rag in your hand, rape humour is never popular, you'll probably end up getting maced, and let me tell you, that stuff stings!

Labels: comedy, crap, drinking, friends, fun, stupidity, wench

Halloween is rolling around again and as usual it's time for everyone to decide on what they're going to dress up as. For children this is pretty easy, you just ask your parents. They'll probably put some face paint on you and give you some old clothes, so you look like a zombie midget, or a witch with a pituitary disease. Men have it a little more difficult, they actually have to put some effort into their costumes. Especially if you're headed to a party and are on the look out for a helpless damsel your vampire count can prey on, or trying to find a sexy Velma to complete your Scooby Gang.

Of course for the ladies it's simply a matter of making a costume designed around 'Slutty [Insert Occupation Here]'. This may sound like I'm complaining, but far from it. Here's a few of the more popular costumes the girls choose:

1. Slutty Cop
2. Slutty Schoolgirl
3. Slutty Pirate
4. Slutty Nurse
5. Slutty Slut

I think I speak for all men when I congratulate women on the effectiveness and ingenuity of this very simple idea. Who would have thought that the world could be made a better place by just taking a normal Halloween outfit and making it slutty. I don't think that's overstating this at all, it is genius, and I for one, applaud it.

But I think it should be pointed out that there's generally very little effort involved when it comes to the girls making their costumes. While there's always those ladies who take the extra effort to make their costumes as small as possible, but still have the theme be recognisable, by far the most popular costume amongst women is the Slutty Slut, or as it's better known the 'putting-on-a-pair-of-cat-ears-with-whatever-your-sluttiest-outfit-is'. Come on people, Halloween's always a good time, if your gonna dress up, at least put some effort in.

Labels: drinking, fun, halloween, nice, women, zombies

I used to be into Big Brother, not in a big way, and it would always take me some time to get into it. I hated the first few weeks, you watch everyone go in and comment on how annoying they are, and the first night is terrible. Everyone just gets drunk, and you can't hear anyone speaking, it's just noise. Loud drunk people talking over one another, I may as well go down the pub. That's also pretty much what goes on for the first few weeks, everyone is loud, there's too much to follow, as there's too many people.

Once the crowd has thinned out a bit and the most annoying have been booted out the house, getting booed mercilessly by the waiting crowd, that's when I'll get into it. But after the first few years, it got even worse. Now I go out of my way not to watch it, for the following reasons:

1. The pointless 'surprises'
2. The bitching
3. The stupid contestants
4. The fact they all think we care after they've left
5. Charley

Basically in this country the 'contestants' are always picked based on breast size, sexual preference and shock value. So you can expect at least 60% women, 40% gay, 30% freaks and about 75% mental. This guarantees hysterics, relationships, break-ups, cliques and at least 17 bitch fights a day between the incredibly nasty and petty 18-23 year old girls they dig out of the nearest shopping centre.

Above all else this woman is the perfect example of everything I hate about Big Brother. She is, and I quote "A self-proclaimed 'it' girl, Charley likes shopping, money and going clubbing at celebrity hangouts." And her Life Philosophy is: "Celebrity, celebrity, cash, celebrity." She has never had a job and gets her money from her cousin, who plays football in the Premiership in the UK. She the most annoying person I have ever had the misfortune of seeing on TV. Her voice grates on my brain like I just face planted onto a blackboard teeth first. Her personality makes me want to punch through her face and pull out her intestines so I can use them to tie her to a post in the middle of Pete's Rabid Bear Emporium. Thank God she's been evicted, now I can get on with forgetting everything about her, as even her cousin has practically disowned her, after seeing what a terrible excuse for a human she is. All I can say is I'm so glad I've got Bravo now so I can watch Sports Disasters, or When Sports Go Bad so I can see idiots hurt themselves instead.

Labels: crap, drinking, horror, Sky+, stupidity, suckage, TV, UK

I give the Wench a lot of shit on this blog, mostly in my whiny way where I whine and sound all whiny. Then whine. But she's been really good to me recently, and when I say recently I mean since I've known her. Although she has put in real effort in the last few weeks as I've been working late a lot and not exactly jumping with energy when I've gotten home. She picks me up from the station already, but now she's got a smile on her face.

Basically I don't think I give her enough praise (not that she gives me any), but I complain a lot as well, as I just demonstrated. Anyway, here's 5 reasons why she's awesome:

1. She always talks to anyone.
2. She's always up for getting wasted.
3. She's watched more of my porn than I have.
4. She's just as lazy as I am, which means she can't bug me about being lazy.
5. She's Hot.

I think the first point is very important. The Wench talks, she talks a lot, to anyone who will listen. And most of the time they do want to listen. When I first met her family all I got asked was 'How do you put up with her?', to which I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled, as I don't talk. At all. It seems a bit of a weird combination, but it kind of works. An example of why this is great comes from last week, where we went for a night out in Loughborough. There's now a smoking ban in the UK, which means if you smoke you have to do it outside of bars and clubs. We went for a fag and immediately made friends with the group standing next to us, and ended up exchanging high fives with them for the rest of the night (The Wench is on a mission to bring back the high five). This may seem insignificant as we were all drunk, but she can do this ANYWHERE. It's like a mutant superpower, she can just get anyone to like her and start talking. I used to get worried going out with her to a pub as she'd spend ages going to the bar or toilet as she'd immediately make 3 new friends on the way.

The last point The Wench will undoubtedly disagree with me on, but as a shallow male I have to say it's rather an important point. She is hot, and I feel I should tell everyone, her included, that she is hot. And that I like to do her, all the time, as much as possible.

Labels: cigarettes, drinking, friends, fun, laziness, UK, wench

As fun as Download Festival is every year, it's always great to get home. I enjoy camping quite a bit, but at a festival it's not quite the same. You don't have as much room, you don't have ready access to your car (it's a 50 minute walk away), the toilets are always far away and they stink. And if you want a shower you have to wait hours for it.

The camping is something to be endured, not enjoyed. No one enjoys camping at a festival. The only good thing about camping is... hang on... I'll think of something... It's doesn't take as long to get into the arena the next day! Ha! I knew I could think of some reason! Now for 5 reasons why I'm glad to be home:

1. My living quarters are no longer a tent
2. There is a supermarket just down the road
3. I don't have to walk everywhere
4. I can have a shower/wash whenever I want
5. I have immediate access to a toilet

For days my bathroom has been a pack of wet wipes, my kitchen a camping stove and a bag of various cans (all the labels got ripped off the first night), my toilet the camp fence (or a 10 minute walk to an indescribable hell) and my changing room an oven temperature tent. Waking up every morning with a hangover really didn't help.

Needless to say I'm glad to be back, despite the sun and boozing. After an hour long shower where my skin changed colour 4 times I felt refreshed and clean, hungry and a little sad. Sure the camping experience is just a small step from being a refugee, but refugees don't have a bunch of awesome bands to rock out to everyday. Although nor do they have to pay for the privilege.

Labels: crap, downloadfestival, drinking, hangover, home, horror, music, suckage, sun

I'm off to the Download Festival again this year. I'm leaving in about 30mins actually. The Wench's brother (let's call him Bitch for now) is already there, with his tent set up and waiting for us. This year Bitch supplied the tent, a £100 10-man mansion, for just 4 people: Me, the Wench, Bitch and his band mate Spider (not his real name, but he is a drummer).

I'm currently waiting to leave, I've got half an hour. the last 3 days have been the slowest of my life! I've been looking forward to the music I've got to listen to, alcohol to drink, fields to pass out in and all the rest. Here's who I'm looking forward to seeing:

1. Wolfmother
2. Korn
3. Iron Maiden
4. Marilyn Manson
5. Linkin Park

Of course they're not the only bands there I'll see. I'll also watch Mastodon, Megadeth, Slayer, Lamb of God and many other wholesome and family friendly bands. Last year was a great festival, hot, sunny, lots of friends, good music and women giving away free Snickers Ice Creams. I hope this year lives up to it. Even though the music isn't as good, and the weather is likely to be cloudy and not as many people I know are going, I'm sure I'll struggle through.

What am I talking about? It's going to be awesome, or off the hook as the kids say nowadays. I've got 4 litres of vodka for me and the Wench to get through, and a whole lot more which should add to the weekend as well. The Red Bull X-Fighters are there this year as well, hopefully brightening my day with some comedy crashes as they've stolen the only piece of shade in the entire arena. If I blister in the sun the least you could do is fall of your bike midway through a Superman Backflip to make me feel better.

Labels: downloadfestival, drinking, friends, fun, holiday, music, sun, UK, wench

It's been about 3 weeks since I last posted. I do have an excuse for a large part of that time, as I was away on holiday in Spain, visiting some of the Wench's family (she's not Spanish, they just live there). Since returning we've had a bank holiday in the UK, so that's even more time off. In fact I've only worked a few days in 3 weeks, and been pretty busy while at work.

Anyway, I'm back now (for a few days at least) and ready to tell you the truth about Spain. I'd gathered that the Spanish are fairly lazy, what with their siestas and the building site that is their country. There's also a lot that I'd been told that had misled me about Spain, but on the other hand some of what I'd been told was totally correct:

1. It's not as cheap as I previously assumed.
2. Young Spaniards have a death wish when driving bikes or quads.
3. The food is as good as you've heard.
4. It's not as warm as everyone says.
5. It's an entertaining drive back to the airport.

During my time in Spain the Wench's parents paid for most of it. Put it this way, we spent £36 for the whole trip. And I'm glad we weren't paying, because it's not as cheap as everyone says! But the food is worth what you pay for it. I loved everything I ate on that holiday, even the lead paint had a nice tang. The weather however, was supposed to be excruciatingly hot. During our time there, the UK had much better weather than we did. The six hour storm on the final night was impressive, but not quite what I was expecting.

I was designated driver on the trip, with the Wench, her brother and step-brother sharing the car. I nearly killed 3 Spaniards over the holiday, all on dirt bikes or quads, driving at ridiculous speeds in the middle of the road. After listening to the kids of the village roar up and down the main street all night I decided if I did actually hit one of them coming round a corner, I'd probably just laugh at his broken skull poking through my windscreen.

On the final night the four of us that had been sharing the car went on a mission to get wasted. We succeeded admirably, with the Wench's step brother throwing up over the balcony before bed and again the next morning. As we were up in the mountains it was a 45 minute drive to the motorway through winding roads up and down steep inclines, ideal for any hangover. It took 5 minutes till the first passenger was sick (the Wench's step-brother), followed by another (the Wench's brother). The two of them then went into full puke overload, going continuously till we hit the coast. This meant I couldn't use my wing mirrors or else I'd be sick, getting a prime view of them hurling from the windows. It was like they were egging each other on, setting each other off again and again. I had puking in surround sound. 'Vodka' became a magic word, capable of inducing vomiting even by whispering it. The outside of the car was in quite a state by the time we reached the airport, so we threw the key to the hire car across the desk and ran. Luckily it wasn't in our name.

Labels: drinking, driving, family, hangover, holiday, stupidity, teenagers, wench

That's right, a new low. I will today be discussing the many different types of shit people take. I feel that this a much ignored topic, even by blokes. Men tend to make comments when they come back from the toilet, but full on dump orientated conversations are fairly rare.

To start things off, here's a few definition's that I've come across during those rare moments when the topic of releasing the chocolate hostage arises:

1. The Ghost - You've pinched off a loaf, but when you go to wipe, there's nothing there.
2. The Neverending - No matter how many times you wipe, there's still more poop to remove.
3. The Shotgun - It comes out so quick with a bit of gas, leading to a lovely pebbledash effect on the bowl.
4. The Ring Burn - After eating spicy food, mainly curries, you get a nasty burn around your balloon knot.
5. The Guinness - The nastiest, blackest, most foul smelling turd made by man or beast.

Of course there's plenty more out there such as The Train, The Behemoth, and The Rollercoaster to name a few. A few friends of mine at university had a tally running in the toilet of their shared house. Every time someone went to drop the kids off at the pool you had to mark how it went on the chart. The chart was conveniently located on the back of the toilet door, with a pen taped to it.

The Guinness is an oft overlooked style of butt fudge. I became aware of it in the worst possible way I could imagine. The Wench's Dad was getting remarried, and I went on his stag night. During the course of the night out of sixteen of us, fifteen were drinking Guinness all night. We were all sleeping in the same house, sharing the same toilet. It was my bad luck to be one of the last to use the toilet the next morning. By that point the smell had become a living thing, solid and angry, looking for a way to take revenge for the abomination it had become. They found me unconscious in the hallway, after I'd managed to escape it I'd blacked out. Sometimes at night I can still hear the screaming...

Labels: crap, drinking, friends, hangover, horror, wench

At last, I drag together enough time and inspiration to squeeze out another post. It's been a long time coming but don't get too over excited.

I've seen a lot of arguments recently, I've not participated in many, but I've witnessed quite a few. Arguments in modern times seem to quickly dissolve into shouting matches, with all sides deciding they'll win if they repeat themselves the most at the highest volume. Well this may work for dogs and retards, but civilised human beings should use one of these less violent and noisy alternatives:

1. Each side can put forth a well thought out and coherent argument, before hearing the next participants viewpoint, then decide on a course of action, possibly a compromise to the benefit of all parties.
2. Flip a coin
3. Rock, Paper, Scissors
4. Russian Roulette
5. Fight to the death

Personally I find a flip of the coin works quite well. Sure it doesn't always work, but if your bad at presenting your point then winning half your arguments, even against superior debaters arguers is a pretty good win/loss ratio.

As a solution to arguments I think that quite often fighting to the death is neglected as a possible alternative. In a better time gentlemen would challenge each other to duels in order to settle a quarrel, not stand about in the street in the middle of the night, yelling incomprehensible babble at each other until one side wonders off, is hit by a car, or falls asleep. I'm a firm believer in letting whoever is the finest swordsman or greatest shot win an argument. Even in the future we know that inevitably all disputes will be decided in the Thunderdome, just as they were hundreds of years ago. Two men enter, one man leaves! Two men enter, one man leaves!

Labels: drinking, films, history, stupidity

Sooner or later at some point in everyone's life they take the time to become properly intoxicated and then spend the night with their significant other, or a group of close friends, and sit about setting the world to rights. Or in my case, asking stupid questions and thinking how great your answers are.

In the past couple of weeks there have been quite a few Friday and Saturday nights spent in this fashion, and while the large majority of things we talked about are either boring or I've forgotten about them, here's five that I can remember:

1. Would it be better to have a pound note than a pound coin?
2. Are music, films, sport and games justifiable items to list as your interests?
3. Does playing Wii sports really make you fitter?
4. What is the sweatier sport: Basketball or Squash?
5. Is Frankenstein's Monster also the abominable snowman?

A few of these are quite hard to decide on. For example Squash, similar to racquetball in the US, is possibly the most physically demanding sport I've ever played, but the games are short. When I played basketball, especially inside, it's the sweatiest I've ever been, but then the games are much longer. So which is the sweatiest?

As for the monetary issue, I've been to America and used notes, and also live in the UK and used coins. Personally I prefer notes, having a pocket full of change is annoying, and it makes going to Strip Bars expensive as the smallest note over here is £5, and you can't tuck coins into a strippers thong. Perhaps they could wear coin purses, maybe attached to garters or something...

Labels: drinking, friends, home, stupidity, wench