Hallo. I've got a few blog entries stored up in my mind, waiting to be unleashed onto you all over the next few weeks. However I appreciate that every blog entry recently has been quite lengthy, crammed full of writings and videos and absolutely hilarious jokes. So, in the spirit of Shakespeare, let's break off from the heavy stuff, and whilst we're changing costumes and moving bits of the set around, have some brainless jolliness instead.
In other words, think of John Barrowman as this blogs equivalent of Sir Toby Belch. Sit back and enjoy the awfulness:
(Many thanks to Dan for the first video. The man is shameless. Barrowman, that is, not Dan)
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Addled and Inverted
The older I get, the grumpier I get. Okay, I'm not quite ready to write a letter into The Sloppy Star launching a tirade on the EU / Tony Blair just yet, but things do begin to irk me a lot more than they used to.
This abortion has to be the most disturbing advert ever seen on television. The grotesquely poor dubbing is bad enough, but its the relationship between the man and the young lady that freaks me out a bit. We can see from the dialogue she's his daughter, yet there does seem to be a very odd and scary sexual frisson between them emphasised throughout. Where is the mother? Why does the daughter own some "Just For Men"? Why does he call her 'darling'? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!
I like to think he didn't actually get the job, and needs more ties to hang himself and end his pathetic and worthless life.
Hahaha, isn't this funny! We've made a really funny advert to tell you that for you fucking peasants out there, you can't watch this channel anymore! Hahaha. Here's hoping that these two muppets don't go into acting, either. "The whole squad?!" line is a beauty in terms of showing drama students how not to act shocked.
Thankfully, that advert has now disappeared off my television screen, as Sky Sports News HD (why?!) has now launched.
This advert makes me genuinely angry. Drinking an appropriate amount of water every day benefits you health wise, and makes you feel better than you would if you drank the same amount of a different drink - say Coca-Cola, any soft drink with Aspartame in, or any alcoholic drink. Seriously, no shit. I for one am fucking stunned at this revelation.
I'm angry, but I can't work out who my anger is aimed at here - is it the makers of this advert, for patronising us so incredibly, or are there people who genuinely watch that advert and think "shit, yeah, that might be an idea actually". Either way, it's bonkers. It also annoys me how they seem to claim it is only Volvic that provides this miraculous juice. Actually, maybe that's fair enough. It doesn't grow on trees, and it sure as hell doesn't come out of taps...
This next one, I admit, I had never seen. It comes from G...
Josh, ah think Dad's found yah scoo-tah pet! Hateful. Also, I like the fact the woman is so casual at asking to borrow £25k from these dodgy types, a fee she will greatly struggle to pay back the interest on for the rest of her life. Eurgh. Let's move swiftly on...
Firstly, you're not an actor, mate - you were in Eastenders. Secondly, I'm glad it's "100% lawyers" - there was me wanting someone who was 50% lawyer, 50% prostitute, y'know? I like the fact that you seem to think its a selling point that my legal case would be handled by a legal fucking professional. Call me old fashioned, but I kind of expect this. Thirdly, stop bloody shouting at me. Next!
"Now, you didn't expect Everest to be doing that today, did you?"
To be honest, Craig, I've never given it much thought. However if someone asked me what the company Everest were doing today, I would probably do a bit of research and confidently predict that they would indeed be doing insulation and energy saving of some sort at some gentleman's house or place of business. Now fuck off.
Not much to say about that one really is there? The "OK YAR!" bit is particularly galling however. This next one (don't worry, it's the penultimate one) has been suggested by Dan:
Watch your back Laurence Olivier! You're not the only good actor to come out of Britain you know - just look at that cunt!
And now, ladies and gentlemen, we get to the final advert. And my goodness, this is...well...I'm not sure what to say about it, to be honest. Let me just say that every time I watch it - EVERY time - I laugh. I've even linked to it on my Twitter page. Three times.
I can just imagine the board meeting now. After being rejected by Stephen Fry, Leonardo di Caprio, Kate Winslet, Will Smith...the good people at VanCompare needed someone a little less famous. Someone who hadn't been in the glare of the public eye for a wee while. Preferably someone who was still well known, and didn't dress like an absolute fucking gimp.
Instead they got Andy Scott from the 70s band The Sweet. If you haven't seen this advert before - you are in for a wonderful, wonderful treat. If you have - why don't you watch it again with me, and saviour the genius?
As Dan just said to me on MSN: "What exactly were they thinking? It's the fact no-one knows who the fuck he is and he looks like a silly dickwad."
Wise words from one so young. And on that note, I'll leave all these ghastly things behind, for now.
Until next time kids!
One of these little things that annoy me are television adverts. Don't get me wrong, I understand the point of them - to bombard you with their message, over and over and over, until their ditty/slogan is ingrained into your mind and you find yourself brainwashed into visiting their website / using their stores. But that doesn't mean I have to like them. Some adverts are good, admittedly, but I can't help thinking its more amusing to blog about the really bad ones - the ones that really get under my skin. So that's what I'm going to do. Unleash the hatred!
This abortion has to be the most disturbing advert ever seen on television. The grotesquely poor dubbing is bad enough, but its the relationship between the man and the young lady that freaks me out a bit. We can see from the dialogue she's his daughter, yet there does seem to be a very odd and scary sexual frisson between them emphasised throughout. Where is the mother? Why does the daughter own some "Just For Men"? Why does he call her 'darling'? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!
I like to think he didn't actually get the job, and needs more ties to hang himself and end his pathetic and worthless life.
Hahaha, isn't this funny! We've made a really funny advert to tell you that for you fucking peasants out there, you can't watch this channel anymore! Hahaha. Here's hoping that these two muppets don't go into acting, either. "The whole squad?!" line is a beauty in terms of showing drama students how not to act shocked.
Thankfully, that advert has now disappeared off my television screen, as Sky Sports News HD (why?!) has now launched.
This advert makes me genuinely angry. Drinking an appropriate amount of water every day benefits you health wise, and makes you feel better than you would if you drank the same amount of a different drink - say Coca-Cola, any soft drink with Aspartame in, or any alcoholic drink. Seriously, no shit. I for one am fucking stunned at this revelation.
I'm angry, but I can't work out who my anger is aimed at here - is it the makers of this advert, for patronising us so incredibly, or are there people who genuinely watch that advert and think "shit, yeah, that might be an idea actually". Either way, it's bonkers. It also annoys me how they seem to claim it is only Volvic that provides this miraculous juice. Actually, maybe that's fair enough. It doesn't grow on trees, and it sure as hell doesn't come out of taps...
This next one, I admit, I had never seen. It comes from G...
Josh, ah think Dad's found yah scoo-tah pet! Hateful. Also, I like the fact the woman is so casual at asking to borrow £25k from these dodgy types, a fee she will greatly struggle to pay back the interest on for the rest of her life. Eurgh. Let's move swiftly on...
Firstly, you're not an actor, mate - you were in Eastenders. Secondly, I'm glad it's "100% lawyers" - there was me wanting someone who was 50% lawyer, 50% prostitute, y'know? I like the fact that you seem to think its a selling point that my legal case would be handled by a legal fucking professional. Call me old fashioned, but I kind of expect this. Thirdly, stop bloody shouting at me. Next!
"Now, you didn't expect Everest to be doing that today, did you?"
To be honest, Craig, I've never given it much thought. However if someone asked me what the company Everest were doing today, I would probably do a bit of research and confidently predict that they would indeed be doing insulation and energy saving of some sort at some gentleman's house or place of business. Now fuck off.
Not much to say about that one really is there? The "OK YAR!" bit is particularly galling however. This next one (don't worry, it's the penultimate one) has been suggested by Dan:
Watch your back Laurence Olivier! You're not the only good actor to come out of Britain you know - just look at that cunt!
And now, ladies and gentlemen, we get to the final advert. And my goodness, this is...well...I'm not sure what to say about it, to be honest. Let me just say that every time I watch it - EVERY time - I laugh. I've even linked to it on my Twitter page. Three times.
I can just imagine the board meeting now. After being rejected by Stephen Fry, Leonardo di Caprio, Kate Winslet, Will Smith...the good people at VanCompare needed someone a little less famous. Someone who hadn't been in the glare of the public eye for a wee while. Preferably someone who was still well known, and didn't dress like an absolute fucking gimp.
Instead they got Andy Scott from the 70s band The Sweet. If you haven't seen this advert before - you are in for a wonderful, wonderful treat. If you have - why don't you watch it again with me, and saviour the genius?
As Dan just said to me on MSN: "What exactly were they thinking? It's the fact no-one knows who the fuck he is and he looks like a silly dickwad."
Wise words from one so young. And on that note, I'll leave all these ghastly things behind, for now.
Until next time kids!
Friday, 10 September 2010
Making Up For Lost Time
As I'm sure you know by now, I was away from the Sloppy Shire region last week. My initial plan was to come back to a whole heap of Sloppy Stars in the porch, and to spend a good hour going through them, scouring the letters pages for any little nuggets I would have missed otherwise. HOWEVER it turns out my father, in his esteemed wisdom, cancelled the papers for that week, meaning I missed out on all those letters and all those cryptic crosswords. Gutting.
Nevertheless, this week is a new week, and it brings papers. And it brings letters. Let's now sample a few of them!
Many people say they wish to have "green" burials when they die, in woodland surroundings. Fine. However, they have not apparently considered the probability that badgers will dig up and eat their remains. The only way to stop this would be to seal them in lead or stainless steel coffins. This would defeat the object.
Name and address supplied
What a FASCINATING letter. I suppose it's all true enough, just it tickled me that someone wrote this into the local paper.
Wife: "So...it's quite late...I'm going up to bed...you going to join me?"
Man: "No, sorry - I need to e-mail The Shropshire Star, to inform the good people of Shropshire the threat of badgers in respect to green burials in woodland surroundings."
Wife: "I'll just go and find some fresh batteries then."
Before we move onto the next letter, I'll give you a moment to re-read that and get the joke.
I'm so sorry.
Judging by the exam results, British youngsters are getting more intelligent every year.
I know where this is heading.
This is most gratifying but I'm afraid I have some nagging doubts.
Yep. Textbook. Every fucking year.
Why am I rarely impressed when I listen to them talking among themselves? Their language is often crude, to put it mildly.
No-one ever swore in the good old days. No-one. Ever. I think, in actual fact, the word "fuck" was invented in 1997, by Liam Gallagher.
Why do I rarely see them reading a quality daily newspaper or one of the serious weeklies?
This tickled me - the idea of there being a quality daily newspaper! Heehee.
On trains and buses, why do I rarely see them reading a book? When I do, it is invariably rubbish, like Dan Brown or a children's book.
Right, fuck off, on two counts. Firstly, I find it difficult to read on trains, buses, in cars - it makes me get motion sickness a little bit. Secondly, I like the way you said "children's book" when you clearly mean Harry Potter, but don't have the balls to say it. Harry Potter was fucking ace, you appalling man.
Why do they seem to ask of music only a loud noise and surface excitement? Some of the music of my generation was loud but it included Duke Ellington, Count Basie and Charlie Parker, not to mention Beethoven and Stravinsky.
Ludwig van Beethoven 1770-1827. From your generation, yeah?
Why, when at university, do many of them have to be sent on remedial courses to learn the basics of grammar?
This bit made me laugh, a lot, because it reminded me of a module I did in the first year of my English degree which was, to be honest, pretty much this. The fact it was taught by the most insufferably smug and patronising woman on the planet didn't help matters.
Why are academics always complaining that students don't always recognise well know literary and historical allusions? It's because they don't read enough. Why are employers complaining school leavers can't...
I'm going to take an unprecedented step, and cut the letter short. Just because he bangs on in the same vein for another four paragraphs and I don't have the space or the time for it.
Sidney Evans, Chirk
Victor Meldrew, Chirk
A few years ago a friend stated: "Why should we feel sorry for the farmers, they never felt sorry for the miners, nursers or police?"
What?
During National Service in the RAF, I dumped some artificial mashed potato in a bin. Witnessing my acts a corporal cook threatened to charge me. I turned on him and said: "You can please yourself."
What?
Overhearing my defiance an old sweat rallied to support me: "You can put the whole bloody camp on charge, mate," he bellowed. An RAF police corporal suggested us: "Where did you get this rubbish from?" The next day the mess sergeant (a real gent) promised me real potatoes.
What?
Well, it's harvest thanksgiving soon, and let's raise our glasses to King Edwards and maris pipers.
Emyr Davies, Wrexham
What?
I read recently that 38 trains built by Siemens in Germany are being delivered through the Channel Tunnel to be operated by First ScotRail. My poor old dad will be turning in his grave thinking about what happened to his former employer Metro Cammell, based in Birmingham, which was the largest producers in the world of railway carriages and wagons for the UK and overseas before its closure in 2005.
Who would have thought we won World War Two.
Oh, for fucks sake. You were doing so well.
Peter Hassall, Shifnal
Next please. You around, Allan Tucker?
According to the Blair book, he was "forced" over fox hunting and not Iraq. That says it all.
Allan Tucker, Oswestry
Another illuminating and interesting letter Allan, many thanks.
I have every sympathy for those caught up in the Pakistan flood disaster. However, perhaps if their government didn't spend so much on nuclear weapons they could look after their people better.
Andy Chaplin, Telford
Nice and tactful Andy, well done.
That's enough letters, I think we can all agree. But before I go, here's a little snippet from last nights paper, conveniently placed opposite the letters page, by reporter Andy Richardson:
Three short years ago, Gina (Yashere) was one of the UK's funniest women.
I officially give up.
Nevertheless, this week is a new week, and it brings papers. And it brings letters. Let's now sample a few of them!
Many people say they wish to have "green" burials when they die, in woodland surroundings. Fine. However, they have not apparently considered the probability that badgers will dig up and eat their remains. The only way to stop this would be to seal them in lead or stainless steel coffins. This would defeat the object.
Name and address supplied
What a FASCINATING letter. I suppose it's all true enough, just it tickled me that someone wrote this into the local paper.
Wife: "So...it's quite late...I'm going up to bed...you going to join me?"
Man: "No, sorry - I need to e-mail The Shropshire Star, to inform the good people of Shropshire the threat of badgers in respect to green burials in woodland surroundings."
Wife: "I'll just go and find some fresh batteries then."
Before we move onto the next letter, I'll give you a moment to re-read that and get the joke.
I'm so sorry.
Judging by the exam results, British youngsters are getting more intelligent every year.
I know where this is heading.
This is most gratifying but I'm afraid I have some nagging doubts.
Yep. Textbook. Every fucking year.
Why am I rarely impressed when I listen to them talking among themselves? Their language is often crude, to put it mildly.
No-one ever swore in the good old days. No-one. Ever. I think, in actual fact, the word "fuck" was invented in 1997, by Liam Gallagher.
Why do I rarely see them reading a quality daily newspaper or one of the serious weeklies?
This tickled me - the idea of there being a quality daily newspaper! Heehee.
On trains and buses, why do I rarely see them reading a book? When I do, it is invariably rubbish, like Dan Brown or a children's book.
Right, fuck off, on two counts. Firstly, I find it difficult to read on trains, buses, in cars - it makes me get motion sickness a little bit. Secondly, I like the way you said "children's book" when you clearly mean Harry Potter, but don't have the balls to say it. Harry Potter was fucking ace, you appalling man.
Why do they seem to ask of music only a loud noise and surface excitement? Some of the music of my generation was loud but it included Duke Ellington, Count Basie and Charlie Parker, not to mention Beethoven and Stravinsky.
Ludwig van Beethoven 1770-1827. From your generation, yeah?
Why, when at university, do many of them have to be sent on remedial courses to learn the basics of grammar?
This bit made me laugh, a lot, because it reminded me of a module I did in the first year of my English degree which was, to be honest, pretty much this. The fact it was taught by the most insufferably smug and patronising woman on the planet didn't help matters.
Why are academics always complaining that students don't always recognise well know literary and historical allusions? It's because they don't read enough. Why are employers complaining school leavers can't...
I'm going to take an unprecedented step, and cut the letter short. Just because he bangs on in the same vein for another four paragraphs and I don't have the space or the time for it.
Sidney Evans, Chirk
Victor Meldrew, Chirk
A few years ago a friend stated: "Why should we feel sorry for the farmers, they never felt sorry for the miners, nursers or police?"
What?
During National Service in the RAF, I dumped some artificial mashed potato in a bin. Witnessing my acts a corporal cook threatened to charge me. I turned on him and said: "You can please yourself."
What?
Overhearing my defiance an old sweat rallied to support me: "You can put the whole bloody camp on charge, mate," he bellowed. An RAF police corporal suggested us: "Where did you get this rubbish from?" The next day the mess sergeant (a real gent) promised me real potatoes.
What?
Well, it's harvest thanksgiving soon, and let's raise our glasses to King Edwards and maris pipers.
Emyr Davies, Wrexham
What?
I read recently that 38 trains built by Siemens in Germany are being delivered through the Channel Tunnel to be operated by First ScotRail. My poor old dad will be turning in his grave thinking about what happened to his former employer Metro Cammell, based in Birmingham, which was the largest producers in the world of railway carriages and wagons for the UK and overseas before its closure in 2005.
Who would have thought we won World War Two.
Oh, for fucks sake. You were doing so well.
Peter Hassall, Shifnal
Next please. You around, Allan Tucker?
According to the Blair book, he was "forced" over fox hunting and not Iraq. That says it all.
Allan Tucker, Oswestry
Another illuminating and interesting letter Allan, many thanks.
I have every sympathy for those caught up in the Pakistan flood disaster. However, perhaps if their government didn't spend so much on nuclear weapons they could look after their people better.
Andy Chaplin, Telford
Nice and tactful Andy, well done.
That's enough letters, I think we can all agree. But before I go, here's a little snippet from last nights paper, conveniently placed opposite the letters page, by reporter Andy Richardson:
Three short years ago, Gina (Yashere) was one of the UK's funniest women.
I officially give up.
Monday, 6 September 2010
Holiday
Hello all! I'm going to tell you about my holiday now. Not that you care, but it's a cliche and if it's good enough for Ben, it's bloody well good enough for me. My holiday in the Lake District was 99% good, and 1% bad. In the spirit of wanting bad news before the good news, here's the bad:
Friday night/Saturday morning I got no sleep. None at all. Not one second. Which meant that yesterday we loaded the car and set off on the long journey back to Lovejoy Towers, my good self shivering in the back and feeling like a zombie. Halfway home we stopped off at my Grans, where I was allowed a lie down in the spare bed. I got about 20 minutes sleep, before being woken up by my cousin and brother who were engaging in a particularly raucous game of Hide n Seek. However, I got home in one piece, and after a 10 hour sleep last night and a hearty breakfast of cold Chinese, I feel like a human being again. So let's cut the moaning and go onto the good stuff.
Our cottage for the week was in the charming village of Skirwith. Here it is in all it's glory (not my pic):
See the patch of grass on the left that looks like a triangle, with the blue car on it? That was our parking space - the cottage is one of the white houses just there. It was small, but perfectly charming and lovely. The beds were fucking atrocious, but then I'm spoilt at home with my Memory Foam mattress.
Could I live in Skirwith? No, and neither could any non-driver.The nearest shop is in Penrith - about a 15 minute drive away. The nearest pub is a 10 minute drive away. As the cleaning lady who was looking after the cottage said to us, "you certainly have to manage your cupboards wisely here."
Penrith itself is lovely. An old fashioned town, with plenty of interesting shops, although the shopping arcade sector is a bit scruffy. The great thing about the town is that it doesn't have a Tesco - I've seen with my own eyes in my hometown how a Tesco megastore nearby completely destroys the little shops in the town. Penrith has a tiny Morrisons and thats it. I liked that.
So, what did we do? As you might have gathered, to get anywhere in the Lake District you have to drive. The vast majority of roads are windy and tight, narrow little lanes, and even A Roads are tricky to navigate. This means that you have to drive for a while - I remember on one day to get back to the cottage it was 26 miles. On a motorway, thats 20 minutes. On a dual carriageway, 25-30 minutes. Around the Lake District? 1 hour.
As such my esteemed father didn't want to drive every day, so we had a few days (Sunday, Tuesday and Friday) of lounging around, walking the dog around the village and generally chilling. So that will explain the gaps in days you're about to see:
MONDAY
A tour of Ullswater, Windermere and Coniston Water. You might notice that there I haven't put "Lake" Windermere, "Lake" Ullswater etc. That's because, amusingly, in the Lake District there's only one body of water called "Lake", and that's Bassenthwaite Lake. Tru story bro. There's not too much I can say about the "lakes", so let's progress onto where we stopped for lunch.
The Drunken Duck Inn was outstanding - quite rightly too, judging by the extortionate prices on show. One thing about the Lake District - it's a real "tourist trap" and perhaps is another reason I couldn't live up there. Four sandwiches (which came with 2 bowls of chips) and four drinks came in at well over £30. I'm just glad I wasn't paying! The story behind the name of the Inn is interesting:
This unofficial title dates back to Victorian years when a landlady of the Inn found her ducks lying stretched out in the road and concluded that they were dead.
Thriftily she began to pluck and prepare them for dinner. The ducks however, were "quick" and not dead. Down in the cellar a barrel had slipped its hoops and beer had gradually drained from the floor into the duck's customary feeding ditch. Thereupon the ducks made all too good use of their unexpected opportunity, with the result that when they came to they found themselves plucked and halfway to the oven.
According to local legend, the landlady, full of remorse for the rough treatment, provided the de-feathered birds with knitted waistcoats of Hawkshead yarn until their feathers grew back again.
WEDNESDAY
Up to Northumberland, where we took in Housesteads Roman Fort, with a section of Hadrian's Wall right behind it. Not my picture:
The Romans were no mugs. The fort is on top of a steep hill, meaning we had a lengthy and slightly tough climb to walk up to it. You certainly wouldn't be in the mood for fighting once you had made that trek.
Behind the fort was Hadrian's Wall, and what stood out for me was the smoothness and the flat surface of the top of it. I think this might be because they put some time of added security onto the top of the wall - maybe some wooden pieces to make it almost impossible to penetrate. The wall itself is not very high. It was interesting, but as I later remarked, "Once you've seen one wall, I suppose you've seen them all."
As we weren't too far away, we decided to pop into Scotland, as I've never been up there before. We drove past the border and into Gretna, passing this house on the way (not my pic):
Next to Gretna is Gretna Green, a quirky little town. In 1753 an Act of Parliament was passed (in England) declaring that if a couple were not both 21 years of age, they had to get the consent of their parents before they could marry. However this ruling was not in force in Scotland, so young couples eloped up into Scotland to get married behind their families backs. First place they came to when they went over the border? Gretna Green. The place has now become synonymous with weddings, and in our quick tour of the town we saw 2 wedding ceremonies taking place. Despite my pleas to stop and try and find a shop that would sell me a deep fried Mars bar (no, really) we went back across the border and back to the cottage. I have been to Scotland. Hoorah.
THURSDAY
We drove to Keswick. I was very excited, as our destination for the day was the James Bond Museum. It's an odd location for it, and when you get there it's a pretty small place with only 3 rooms. Nevertheless, it was pretty cool, especially for nerds like me. On the way out I couldn't resist buying some tat, so I bought a pack of Bond Girls playing cards and a 100g chocolate bar which is in the form of a gold bar (a "Goldfinger Bar" no less). These two items cost £8. EIGHT QUID! Still, there's nice pics of Halle Berry and Fiona Fullerton for when I get lonely, so I'm not complaining (much).
On our way to having lunch in Ambleside, we passed Dove Cottage. Without Googling, do you know who lived there roughly 200 years ago?
Rainfall over the week - nil. About 15 minutes after we got home, it started to rain.
"Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose".
Friday night/Saturday morning I got no sleep. None at all. Not one second. Which meant that yesterday we loaded the car and set off on the long journey back to Lovejoy Towers, my good self shivering in the back and feeling like a zombie. Halfway home we stopped off at my Grans, where I was allowed a lie down in the spare bed. I got about 20 minutes sleep, before being woken up by my cousin and brother who were engaging in a particularly raucous game of Hide n Seek. However, I got home in one piece, and after a 10 hour sleep last night and a hearty breakfast of cold Chinese, I feel like a human being again. So let's cut the moaning and go onto the good stuff.
Our cottage for the week was in the charming village of Skirwith. Here it is in all it's glory (not my pic):
Could I live in Skirwith? No, and neither could any non-driver.The nearest shop is in Penrith - about a 15 minute drive away. The nearest pub is a 10 minute drive away. As the cleaning lady who was looking after the cottage said to us, "you certainly have to manage your cupboards wisely here."
Penrith itself is lovely. An old fashioned town, with plenty of interesting shops, although the shopping arcade sector is a bit scruffy. The great thing about the town is that it doesn't have a Tesco - I've seen with my own eyes in my hometown how a Tesco megastore nearby completely destroys the little shops in the town. Penrith has a tiny Morrisons and thats it. I liked that.
So, what did we do? As you might have gathered, to get anywhere in the Lake District you have to drive. The vast majority of roads are windy and tight, narrow little lanes, and even A Roads are tricky to navigate. This means that you have to drive for a while - I remember on one day to get back to the cottage it was 26 miles. On a motorway, thats 20 minutes. On a dual carriageway, 25-30 minutes. Around the Lake District? 1 hour.
As such my esteemed father didn't want to drive every day, so we had a few days (Sunday, Tuesday and Friday) of lounging around, walking the dog around the village and generally chilling. So that will explain the gaps in days you're about to see:
MONDAY
A tour of Ullswater, Windermere and Coniston Water. You might notice that there I haven't put "Lake" Windermere, "Lake" Ullswater etc. That's because, amusingly, in the Lake District there's only one body of water called "Lake", and that's Bassenthwaite Lake. Tru story bro. There's not too much I can say about the "lakes", so let's progress onto where we stopped for lunch.
The Drunken Duck Inn was outstanding - quite rightly too, judging by the extortionate prices on show. One thing about the Lake District - it's a real "tourist trap" and perhaps is another reason I couldn't live up there. Four sandwiches (which came with 2 bowls of chips) and four drinks came in at well over £30. I'm just glad I wasn't paying! The story behind the name of the Inn is interesting:
This unofficial title dates back to Victorian years when a landlady of the Inn found her ducks lying stretched out in the road and concluded that they were dead.
Thriftily she began to pluck and prepare them for dinner. The ducks however, were "quick" and not dead. Down in the cellar a barrel had slipped its hoops and beer had gradually drained from the floor into the duck's customary feeding ditch. Thereupon the ducks made all too good use of their unexpected opportunity, with the result that when they came to they found themselves plucked and halfway to the oven.
According to local legend, the landlady, full of remorse for the rough treatment, provided the de-feathered birds with knitted waistcoats of Hawkshead yarn until their feathers grew back again.
WEDNESDAY
Up to Northumberland, where we took in Housesteads Roman Fort, with a section of Hadrian's Wall right behind it. Not my picture:
Behind the fort was Hadrian's Wall, and what stood out for me was the smoothness and the flat surface of the top of it. I think this might be because they put some time of added security onto the top of the wall - maybe some wooden pieces to make it almost impossible to penetrate. The wall itself is not very high. It was interesting, but as I later remarked, "Once you've seen one wall, I suppose you've seen them all."
As we weren't too far away, we decided to pop into Scotland, as I've never been up there before. We drove past the border and into Gretna, passing this house on the way (not my pic):
THURSDAY
We drove to Keswick. I was very excited, as our destination for the day was the James Bond Museum. It's an odd location for it, and when you get there it's a pretty small place with only 3 rooms. Nevertheless, it was pretty cool, especially for nerds like me. On the way out I couldn't resist buying some tat, so I bought a pack of Bond Girls playing cards and a 100g chocolate bar which is in the form of a gold bar (a "Goldfinger Bar" no less). These two items cost £8. EIGHT QUID! Still, there's nice pics of Halle Berry and Fiona Fullerton for when I get lonely, so I'm not complaining (much).
On our way to having lunch in Ambleside, we passed Dove Cottage. Without Googling, do you know who lived there roughly 200 years ago?
Rainfall over the week - nil. About 15 minutes after we got home, it started to rain.
"Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose".
Friday, 27 August 2010
Twice Nightly Whiteley
Hello again. I know I blogged earlier today but something in tonight's Sloppy Star has caught my eye and I'll be damned if I can ignore it. So, just like buses, here's two blogs in quick succession. Say hello to a letter writer called....ah, we don't know - it's Name Withheld. I get the feeling we're about to find out why...
I would like to answer your question on where have the jobs gone?
I didn't ask, but, please, continue.
It's quite simple.
Great news, considering it's 23:30 currently.
All the Eastern Europeans have taken them.
Oh fuck off. When I marry the Polish girl I like we're both going to poo in envelopes and send it to you, you ridiculously ignorant racist.
Why?
Because I hate you. Oh, sorry, misinterpreted that. Carry on.
Because people like you, and the 900,000 you mentioned,
What?
are too lazy to get off your chairs and go look for them, it's easier to claim benefits.
This is true for some people, sure. But not all. Not sure what's with the attacking tone, either. What have I done to upset you? I'm in higher education dude!
I watched The Big Lebowski last night. I didn't like it that much, but I took from it a desire to call everyone dude. Dude.
How on Earth can someone be ill for 10 years?
Well, first of all WHAT? Secondly, quite easily.
That's just bone idle.
Oh my god. So someone who suffers from crippling MS, who's had it for 10 years is lazy and bone idle? Firstly, that's dumb. Secondly, WHAT?
Okay so you might have been ill at one time but 10 years? You don't deserve a job.
I give up. I have no idea who you're talking to, what you're talking about, what planet you are on. But if you seriously believe someone being seriously ill for 10 years is just bone idle, I wouldn't want you as my doctor.
If it was up to me you wouldn't even get benefits.
Are you Hitler? Serious question.
Grow up man, stop whinging and get out there and find a job.
End of letter. This has to be up there with the most mental letters I've ever read, not least because the writer seems to be targeting someone in particular but doesn't reference who, all with a splash of casual racism in tow.
Fuck this nutter. I really am off on holiday now, ta-ta.
I would like to answer your question on where have the jobs gone?
I didn't ask, but, please, continue.
It's quite simple.
Great news, considering it's 23:30 currently.
All the Eastern Europeans have taken them.
Oh fuck off. When I marry the Polish girl I like we're both going to poo in envelopes and send it to you, you ridiculously ignorant racist.
Why?
Because I hate you. Oh, sorry, misinterpreted that. Carry on.
Because people like you, and the 900,000 you mentioned,
What?
are too lazy to get off your chairs and go look for them, it's easier to claim benefits.
This is true for some people, sure. But not all. Not sure what's with the attacking tone, either. What have I done to upset you? I'm in higher education dude!
I watched The Big Lebowski last night. I didn't like it that much, but I took from it a desire to call everyone dude. Dude.
How on Earth can someone be ill for 10 years?
Well, first of all WHAT? Secondly, quite easily.
That's just bone idle.
Oh my god. So someone who suffers from crippling MS, who's had it for 10 years is lazy and bone idle? Firstly, that's dumb. Secondly, WHAT?
Okay so you might have been ill at one time but 10 years? You don't deserve a job.
I give up. I have no idea who you're talking to, what you're talking about, what planet you are on. But if you seriously believe someone being seriously ill for 10 years is just bone idle, I wouldn't want you as my doctor.
If it was up to me you wouldn't even get benefits.
Are you Hitler? Serious question.
Grow up man, stop whinging and get out there and find a job.
End of letter. This has to be up there with the most mental letters I've ever read, not least because the writer seems to be targeting someone in particular but doesn't reference who, all with a splash of casual racism in tow.
Fuck this nutter. I really am off on holiday now, ta-ta.
Thursday, 26 August 2010
The Joys of August
I am going on holiday. For a week I will not have internet access, so I'll either have a lovely break - spending time with my family, reading, walking and seeing the sights - or I'll start climbing the walls and go mad. Let me put it this way - if the cottage doesn't have a dartboard, I riot.
So I'm busy packing today. First up, books. I feel I need to take quite a few, and take a variety of styles. I've gone for:
The Damned United - David Peace (I'm halfway through it. I don't like it much so far, annoyingly)
The Road - Cormac McCarthy
Thanks for Nothing - Jack Dee
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Awkward Situations for Men - Danny Wallace
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich - Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
And a collection of short stories by Jeffery Deaver.
I would take some DVDs as well, but I think there's only one TV and doubt there's a DVD player. So I'll take a Clint Eastwood collection just in case.
Okay, so then we have the obvious stuff - clothes, toiletries, wallet, tablets, phone.
The not-so-obvious stuff:
My baseball.
Digital radio.
Crib board.
Crossword dictionary.
Little screwdriver for my glasses.
My Guinness rugby stress ball.
My Badly Drawn Boy-esque hat.
PSP and charger.
One pack of playing cards.
One pack of playing cards for magic tricks.
My 11-in-1 multi-functional tool.
Pad of paper and pens.
My trusty copy of Baseball Prospectus 2010.
Multi-vitamin sweets.
My encyclopaedia.
Well, I think that's everything. Hey guys, thanks for helping me pack!
God bless you all.
PS. There's nothing left in the house worth stealing, so don't go getting any ideas.
So I'm busy packing today. First up, books. I feel I need to take quite a few, and take a variety of styles. I've gone for:
The Damned United - David Peace (I'm halfway through it. I don't like it much so far, annoyingly)
The Road - Cormac McCarthy
Thanks for Nothing - Jack Dee
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Awkward Situations for Men - Danny Wallace
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich - Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
And a collection of short stories by Jeffery Deaver.
I would take some DVDs as well, but I think there's only one TV and doubt there's a DVD player. So I'll take a Clint Eastwood collection just in case.
Okay, so then we have the obvious stuff - clothes, toiletries, wallet, tablets, phone.
The not-so-obvious stuff:
My baseball.
Digital radio.
Crib board.
Crossword dictionary.
Little screwdriver for my glasses.
My Guinness rugby stress ball.
My Badly Drawn Boy-esque hat.
PSP and charger.
One pack of playing cards.
One pack of playing cards for magic tricks.
My 11-in-1 multi-functional tool.
Pad of paper and pens.
My trusty copy of Baseball Prospectus 2010.
Multi-vitamin sweets.
My encyclopaedia.
Well, I think that's everything. Hey guys, thanks for helping me pack!
God bless you all.
PS. There's nothing left in the house worth stealing, so don't go getting any ideas.
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Odds and Ends
Sorry for the slight lapse from blogging, it's a strangely busy time at the moment here. A brief spot of respite however gives me the chance to tidy up a few loose ends.
1) I've gained a new blog follower, which I'm very pleased about. Andee runs an excellent blog, a blog which I happened to stumble upon one night. You can find it here:
and it's well worth a read/follow. I really respect people that strive to make a difference, especially when it involves sacrifice and incredible dedication. Thanks for the follow, Andee, and please keep doing what you're doing - I enjoy reading your site a lot.
2) I've started up a new blog. Relax! Tim Lovejoy isn't going anywhere. No sir!
A few days ago, I wrote a short story, and it amazed me how much a) I enjoyed writing it and b) How easily the story flowed from my brain onto the screen. It made me ponder just how many short stories and works of fiction I've got stored up in my brain, waiting to be unleashed. So I've created a blog, dedicated exclusively to any fictional scribblings I jot down. You can find it here:
It probably won't be updated as regularly as this blog, but I'm hoping that once it's up and running I'll be publishing works of fiction by other people (some of you guys, for sure) as well as myself. More on that in the future, I'm sure.
3) Project Alniro (see last blog entry) is ticking along, and we've had a few good responses. Nevertheless progress has been slightly slower than expected - I didn't realise just what a big number 200 was. I now realise that's an awful lot of celebrities, and an awful lot of tweets.
So this is an open appeal - if you would like to join Project Alniro, please drop me a line. I can send you all the info you need, and keep you informed of who to tweet, when. The more people involved, the quicker we can get it done and dusted. You don't have to have a Twitter account, or even like Twitter, I can sort all that out for you. Please do get in touch if you're interested.
4) I think that's everything. Stay classy, yeah?
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