Author Archive

When I was a kid I used to be driven to near insanity when on the way to the local supermarket my dad would insist on putting a Neil Young tape in the cars high-tech (at the time) player and I’d beg for it to be turned off – much to his hilarity. Much to my fathers dismay, I wanted to listen to 80s hair rock like Billy Idol, Bon Jovi, Kiss or anything off the Hot City Nights compilation album, but I’d have rather listened to silence than Neil Young.

But it’s funny how your music tastes change. When I was really young I was addicted to these glam-rock bands. Unusual for a toddler yes, but I think I wanted to be a rock star form an early age. I used to sing along to Whitesnake’s “Here I go Again” on repeat, and thought I was cool signing along with Kiss’s classic “Crazy, Crazy Nights”. In fact, I was cool dammit!

As I hit double figures in age, and headed to secondary school I have to put my taste down to peer pressure, and the inability to find anyone remotely cool in my school which was full of pathetic malcontents and buck-toothed reprobates. I call this my dark days of music. Oasis were beginning to emerge, along with the dreadful Blur, and a host of other moronic Indie bands. But before they came along was 2Unlimited, and other such faux-techno bands that populated the early 90s rave scene. I hang my head in shame.

The mid-nineties was when Indie was really taking shape, but at the same time as that mediocre, emotionless drivel, the saviours of my musical soul arrived. 1991 brought me Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Sonic Youth, Mudhoney, and my music taste was changed forever.

I remember listening to it and feeling connected instantly, this music had anger, passion, thought, and talent – everything my idiotic peers had tried to push out of me. Deciding that I was better off with music than friends, I went deeper in to a world that seemed like a billion miles away. By the time 1994 hit, I think I’d heard about every grunge band going and it was the time of Nu-metal’s birth with the band Korn.

If I thought grunge was angry, my 13 year old mind was not ready for the sheer aggression of Korn. Ok it’s maybe tame-ish by today’s heavy music standards, but you can’t deny it didn’t stop you in your tracks the first time you heard it. There was no going back, I was addicted to metal. From Korn I got into Snot, Limp Bizkit, Coal Chamber, Slipknot, and so many more I couldn’t possibly list.

I broadened my taste from the American Nu-metal to UK hardcore sludge with bands like the immensely heavy Iron Monkey, Raging Speedhorn, Charger, then onto metalcore bands like Killswitch Engage, Lamb of God and God Forbid, and onward to Gallows, This Is Hell, Comback Kid and Champion. All of these bands in their own way left something with me, whether it would be immense enjoyment at “finding! A band before any of my mates like Still Remains (whose demo I picked up three months before they got signed to Roadrunner), or disappointment like when Limp Bizkit went painfully commercial, or when kids started wearing Slipknot hoodies having never even heard the music.

I suppose the moral of this story is that everyone is entitled to a music taste. Be it my dad with his Neil Young CDs or someone covered in glow-sticks listening to the Prodigy. The best thing about a music taste is that it’s yours and only yours. Even though I listen to hardcore/metal/punk and everything in-between, I still find time to chill out to Vivaldi, or Buddy Holly. Appreciation of musical ability, dedication and conviction should drive music on forever, not some guy with his trousers so far up his body that he can tuck his man boobs in the belt.

One thing I love is dogs. The only problem is I can’t play with them or even pat them on the head, because I’m sneezing so hard.

I’ve been allergic to dogs for as long as I can remember, but its just not mans best friend I get ill from. If a cat comes within about 5 feet of me, I’ll sneeze, if I sleep on a feather pillow – something that bed and breakfast’s around the world always insist on using – I’m like death warmed up by the morning.

My eyes go puffy, my throat swells, my nose starts steaming, and I basically can’t breathe. It’s a pretty big downer. I’ve tried a million things to try to stop me feeling rubbish near animals of any type, practically every anti-histamine on the market, a bunch of so-called herbal remedies, along with a various selection of vapour things that apparently help you breathe more easily.

It sucks for first impressions too. I remember meeting my fiancé’s parents for the first time, and politely asking them to remove their dogs from the room – I was sneezing my head off after about five minutes of trying not to think about the little furballs. I must have looked brilliant: “hi I’m the guy that’s dating your daughter *sneeze, cough splutter*. Honestly, I’m really cool in real life”.

I reckon I’ve narrowed it down to three suitable solutions…

1. Never look at, touch or walk past a furry creature of death ever again.
2. Jam two blocks of cotton wool up each nostril, and wear a mouth mask.
3. Carry a small set of clippers around to shave off any animal’s hair that causes me to sneeze.

Now, the way I see it is that realistically, option number one, is going to be impossible – everyone seems to love animals – I think even my parents would sooner give up me than their two mutts.

Option three would land me in a whole lot of trouble – not only with the RSPCA – but with owners of their now aerodynamic moggy, so it looks like I’m going to be left with option number two, otherwise I’ll have to go on looking like the elephant man for a week after a visit to my fiancé’s parents house.

Does anyone else suffer from animals that people insist on having around? Or do you know of anything that can actually stop me feeling like cr#p for a week after being near an animal? I’m genuinely asking for help…

So we’ve reached the end of another long week, so I thought I’d end it with the most ridiculous story I’ve heard today…

A new study has discovered a new form of acne – mobile phone dermatitis.

Now I’d just like to announce that the world has in fact gone mad. This ‘study’ is a load of nonsense. The fact of the matter is that they probably focused on the largest phone using demographic of all – teenagers. And what do most teenagers have? Bad acne.

Its things like this that really grinds my gears. I’ll bet the royal foundation for the discovery of peculiar and possible deadly face creatures got a huge funding boost from our indebted governments to discover something that most people knew all along.

Maybe one day they’ll realise that if they invested all this ill-spent cash on things like cancer treatment or the cure for aids then the world would see some benefit, and I wouldn’t mind so much. But the worst part is they give this kind of cash to bored scientist who are fed up blowing their eyebrows off, and decide that they need to right some wrong – that no one gives a cr#p about.

Anyway, you’d better watch if you are a mobile phone user, as that’s two deadly things to watch out for: Radiation and Acne. I actually can’t decide which is worse? On the one hand in ten years time we could have zombies running around (the unlucky ones) or superheroes everywhere (the lucky ones) on the other we could have a lot of ugly adults that look like zombies.

Right! Enough of my rating, I’m off to form the: The Society for the protection of Gigantic Marshmallow People. Who’s with me? Oh, and can I get some funding Mr Brown?…

Yesterday I paid £80 to be lectured about how I drive too fast…good times.

Not too long ago I was caught speeding in my car doing a “terrifying” 36mph in a 30 on a practically empty road on a hill. I don’t deny that I was going to fast, because I was, but it’s not something I do often. I remember seeing the camera as I came round the corner (I thought the law was that police had to be in plain view, but hey-ho) and the heart sinking feeling of knowing that in a couple of weeks time a letter would come through with a £60 fine and 3 points.

Well, the letter came through, and I was ordered to pay the price for my slip-up, but I had an alternative: take a Speed Awareness course for £80, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the points on my license. Sweet. So I paid the £80, and was given a date to turn up to a venue where I would be taught the error of my ways.

The first thing I noticed is that I was, by far, the youngest person there, by a good ten years. Everyone was grumbling and mumbling about having to be there – to be honest I was glad I didn’t have to pay the points…

Now, I’d heard some horror stories about this course from friends who’ve been on it before. So I was expecting to see pictures of dead bodies, and horrible car accidents, etc, but in fact al I was given was a PowerPoint presentation, a pen and a key ring.

Now I’m not saying that the people taking the course were bad, but they certainly didn’t carry any weight with the materials they had to use. There is nothing unnerving about a power point presentation, well unless it’s documenting Amy Winehouse’s physical decline.

If I really wanted to stop people speeding, I’d show them horrific crashes and gory stuff because the only thing people react too now-a-days is a shock factor. Gentle persuasion maybe worked in 1965 when everyone was so high they’d agree to anything, but in the year 2008, we are not so easily offended.

I sat in a room that resembled a 1980s classroom, and was told off, not sternly but gently, for a couple of hours before having lunch, then heading out on a practical driving assessment.

Now I’d love to be able to show you my scorecard but I don’t have a scanner, but let’s just say I could be the next Ayrton Senna. My mad skillz behind the wheel were given nods of approval from my instructor, and he concluded that my speeding mistake was exactly that, a stupid mistake.

So after a whole day of driving orientated stuff what did I think of the experience? Well if I was running the course, I’d want more shock factor, less PowerPoint, more driving and a better key ring, but I was glad someone finally agreed that my driving is god like.

When was the last time you got excited about a film? Did Batman’s latest effort do the trick? Or were you more excited about the unexpected Cloverfield? I got excited about seeing Tropic Thunder, and after going last weekend I came away feeling that although it was funny in parts, they could have used better actors for some of the roles, and maybe I missed the hype.

Ben Stiller was funny, the bit where he murders the panda will probably crack me up for the rest of my life, along with the part when he launches the little kid off a bridge. His portrayal as the actor trying to prove that he belongs in the movie is great, and as I was a fan of the actor in Zoolander and Dodgeball, I was always going to dig it.

Robert Downey Jr. was awesome. Uttering lines like: “The Same thing happened to me when I played Neil Armstrong in Moonshot. They found me in an alley in Burbank trying to re-enter the earth’s atmosphere in an old refrigerator box.” He played the role – clearly aimed at Russell Crow’s paparazzi fighting antics – brilliantly.

Tom Cruise, was the surprise to me. He almost stole the show with his role as a towering millionaire Les Grossman. Not only was the dancing hilarious he said awesome great lines like: “Speedman is a dying star. A white dwarf headed for a black hole. That’s physics. It’s inevitable.” He added so much aggression to the role, and came off like a nastier version of Goldmember from Austin Powers.

But then there was a downside…

The generally hilarious Jack Black had no good lines. I’m not sure if this was to emphasise the fact his character was taking the micky out of Eddie Murphy’s fart humour, but I think that with the three heavyweight leads, he was just pushed to a bit part. There was one mildly funny bit when he was tied to a tree begging for heroin, but overall he was a one joke guy.

The two other characters; Alpa Chino – the young African American star of “Booty Juice” energy drink, and the guy who should have been played by Justin Long, Kevin Sandusky, were pretty much side dressing.

The film itself, while having a few funny moments, was pretty rubbish. The hype machine built it up, and I’d seen trailers for it for months. It took me so long to watch it (it’s been out for about a month I think) that they excitement had gone, which I believe hindered my enjoyment of an otherwise decent film.

I’m starting to think that we are more influenced than we think we are when it comes to movies, and the same could be said for games, phones, clothes, and all that jazz. It’s the marketing companies around the world, working hard to make us get excited about stuff, so hats off to them.

My advice is to go to movies when the hype is happening, otherwise you will no-where near enjoy it as much as you will if you wait.

I visited animal prison yesterday, otherwise known as the local Zoo. I love seeing animal’s, they are often fluffy, toothy, trunky, smelly, funny… but after a short time I started to feel really sad. It’s the monkeys and apes. These awesome creatures share 99 percent of our genetic make-up, yet they are the ones locked in cages. I swore that they were looking at all the buck-toothed passers-by gawping at them, and thinking to themselves “why me”.

No I know that they are there for a reason. They are bred in captivity to preserve the species, etc etc, but you can’t help but feel terrible.

I look at it this way: As a nation, we pretty much suck. Knife crime is through the roof, robberies are common place, the police are useless, the courts are pathetic, the government seems to brush over areas of the country with a magic brush that hides over this nations pathetic excuses for human beings, yet we hold creatures that probably have more intelligence in their left nostril than the majority of the dregs that pollute of towns, shopping centres and public parks in tiny little enclosures, that doesn’t exactly look very fun.

Now I’m not having a go at the zoo keepers, or zoo’s for that matter. Do I think more could be done to make these animals lives more bearable? Yes I do, but I understand that the government can’t afford to subsidise the zoo’s, and other animal sanctuaries, as they are too busy subsidising Vicky Pollard look-a-like’s with seven kids called; Briteni, Kristina, Briteni 2, Beckum, Roonney, Cher and Crystal Dimonnd the third.

Perhaps I’m being shallow-minded? Perhaps as a nation we are secretly terrified of a monkey rebellion, and this is a government’s way of quelling any thoughts of a primate takeover.

Anyways, I saw some cool animals, tortoises, giraffes, and I was about five feet away from 4 African elephants – amazing. That’s the great side of zoo’s. In our world these creatures can’t walk around freely without fear of some poacher hunting them down, so at least they are safe. I just wish that the government would do something to make their stay a little bit more comfortable.

So the Ministry of Dumbass…sorry, I mean Defence, has gone and lost another memory stick full of information. *slow claps* well done guys.

This time the details of 100,000 men and women of the armed services, and their families and a further 800,000 people who had applied to join the services. It is particularly worrying due to the fact that it carries the potential of targeting people who worked in Northern Ireland or more recent conflicts.

Unbelievably this data was stored on an unencrypted drive, even though with the information you could easily steal someone’s identity.

The MoD released this statement: “On Wednesday 8 October we were informed by our contractor EDS that they were unable to account for a portable hard drive used in connection with the administration of Armed Forces personnel data. This came to light during a priority audit EDS are conducting to comply with the Cabinet Office data handling review. The MOD Police are investigating with EDS.”

This is just another case of carelessness with our privacy. When you see the statistics of all the other times data has been ‘misplaced’ it makes you wonder who is to blame. Is it the clumsy assistant who leaves a documents on a train? Or are the high ranking officers whose job it is to control the flow of data to blame? Or failing that is it EDS’s fault? Are they providing the correct type of security? A quick look around the internet throws up much better network security companies.

As if we need it, here’s a rundown of the MoD’s recent idiocy;

• January: The MoD admits losing a laptop with 600,000 applicants for the armed services – which was unencrypted.
• March: The MoD admits losing 11,000 ID cards over the past two years.
• July: The MoD admits losing 87 storage devices containing classified material since 2003.
• September: An MoD secretary leaves two documents on a train from Waterloo. He’s about to be charged with offences under the official secrets act.

It’s scary when your nation’s security is compromised by some idiot with a lack of concentration. How long will it be before something serious happens because of a security lapse like the ones above?

I’ve just had a rubbish sandwich. It was bland as hell and dry, and altogether dull. It’s my own fault really as it was me that made it this morning while in a rush and half asleep. If you want to know, it was a white bread, chicken slice and branston pickle sandwich.

Doesn’t sound to bad right, but let me tell you I’ve eaten the same sandwich at the same time every day for the last week. I know what you’re thinking, why not change your sandwich, and buy some new ingredients, spice things up a bit. Yes, yes that’s fine but I’ll tell you this, on the list of priorities, my choice of sandwich is massively low on my morning agenda.

6.30 am and the alarm goes off. The first thing I do when I wake up is attempt to turn back time with my mind. When that fails, I have to fight with my body and get up. The darker mornings have been making it so difficult recently, and it’s been raining. I generally drag myself through to the living room where I put the TV on and grimace at the awake-ness of the BBC presenting team – who’ve probably been up since 4 am yet look sparkly.

After sitting yawning at the screen for five minutes I have a shower, and then start getting ready for work. Those adverts on the TV selling revitalising shower gels, nonsense, I’m generally feel worse after the shower because its so bl##dy cold in my flat.

Once I’m dressed, I’m ready for the sandwich making. My regional news weather comes on in the background, and after five minutes of slagging off the presenter’s manly voice (she’s a woman) I get stuck into the sleepiest sandwich creation in history. I drag the contents of my fridge out on to the counter, and get busy making my lunch. Now as I said earlier I could use nice ingredients, but at that time in the day, my imagination is deader than the Dodo. I have no idea what I should do with myself, other than shuffle toward the front door, rubbish sandwich in hand, before heading to work.

But fear not, tomorrow is the last day of the week and I’m heading to the shops tonight. I’m going to buy myself a baguette and chuck some ham and salad on it, with it of dressing. God i’m sad…

I played football the other night and not just FIFA on the Xbox, real football (well, five-a-side). I’ve been playing every week without fail for the last month or two, and I’m getting progressively fitter.

The first game nearly killed me, as my fitness was at the level of a 75-year old chain-smoking woman. I ran around for about ten minutes before I had my hands on my knees cursing the fact I had another 50 minutes to play left. I made it too the end (just) but didn’t score a single goal. Gutted.

I’ve only played maybe six more times since then, but I can definitely see an improvement. I ran around non-stop for pretty much the whole match, and I’ve scored consistently every week. I used to be decent at the game; I played regularly for a couple of years, and only stopped playing for about 7 months, but it quite alarming how quickly your fitness deteriorates.

I love playing the game, the competitive spirit will never die in me, and now that I’m getting back to a decent level of fitness (I’m giving it 5 more games to be 100%) I’m looking into the possibility of joining a non-league club.

But am I good enough? Sadly there are no standardised tests you can take. When I was young I had the “Ryan Giggs: Soccer Skills” VHS tape, I used to watch it all the time, and it still stands up, because Ryan Giggs is a great player.

Maybe I’m too old to play. At 27, as far as football is concerned, I’m completely passed my prime. I could probably be a keeper, as I was always a bit nifty in goals, and I’m not scared of getting hit by the ball, but I’d rather be a defender, or a midfielder. I’m not really a striker if I’m being honest, I prefer to run with the ball, and cross it in, maybe take the freekicks, more of a short passing game (I used to watch a lot of Italian football when I was a lad), but I’m not the guy for hammering home the winner in the world cup final – although that would be nice.

So where to start, I’m going to head to the local team in my area, speak to the boss and try to arrange to get in on their training. I reckon that’s the best thing to do, and then at least I’ll know if I still play at my grand old age. Wish me luck.

It’s fair to say that I am addicted to something that used to be bad, but is now much better: FIFA 09 on the Xbox360. Now anyone who caught my previous story about the lack of Xbox360 enthusiasm I’ve had recently will be surprised to hear that I’m back in love with the machine that has broke down more times than my first car.

I must admit disappointment initially as I bought it from Game Station and they don’t use cellophane anymore, so I the excitement of bursting open the packaging was non-existent, but the joy of reading the manual on the way back home (I made the missus drive so I could read it) was present, and I couldn’t wait to get it home on the big white heater/console.

As I ran – I’m not even kidding – into the living room, and bounded over to the Xbox, I swore I could hear the crowd at the Reebok stadium chanting my name, perhaps more accurately was my missus asking me ‘how long I would I be playing the game for?’ I nervously looked round…”why?” I asked, knowing fine well that X-Factor was on, and I she missed it, my life would be hell for an entire evening.

Now in these credit-crunch times or as I like to call it, BBC-Buzzword times, I have but one decent sized TV, and one really small one from our first flat. The natural reaction was for me to volunteer to use the small TV (which I’d have to manhandle from the other room, and set up thus eating in to my valuable playing time), but the puppy-dog eyes saved the day and the missus said she would watch the small one. “Great”, I said as I turned to set up the game on the big TV…

Guilt is a funny old thing. As I dived in to the first game, as the mighty Bolton…stop laughing at the back… I heard my missus struggling with the small TV in the other room. So pausing it (sounds easy, but it took me about 30 seconds to find a suitable moment) I went through to see my lady practically dragging the TV through. ‘All this for bl##dy X-Factor’ I said to myself, but, as chivalry isn’t quite dead, I grabbed the TV and heroically set it up in the living room - after about 20 minutes of rewiring the house.

Now the big TV is on with Bolton vs. Chelsea in the background, and me shouting at it like it’s a real match, and the missus sitting with the small TV watching Simon Cowell dish out some abuse, that I had to move on to the living room table so it was close enough for her to see – like when Father Ted tries to explain the difference between a cow that is far away and a toy that is close up (YouTube it). Who says living with a girl is tough…