Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Ten More Things To Make You Paranoid And Insecure.

Having read this interesting little piece on MSN, I was curious as whether or not these were things women really liked in their men, or if it was simply the twee fantasies of a pair of middle class media types out to make a bob or thousand in the shit book market. Being currently long-term single, I decided to ask my good friend Barry from down the pub to run his rule over their slightly specious looking list of rules.
10 things you didn’t realise she liked about you by Penny Isaacs and Sarah Lockett 1. Your baked seabass. Eating out is hugely enjoyable and you both love a delicious hot curry on a Friday night after work. But, what she really likes is when you go to the trouble of making her your special foil-wrapped sea bass baked with teriyaki sauce and fresh ginger. Women love being cooked for because it shows you are capable and sophisticated. We also appreciate it when some thought has gone into choosing a tasty dish which will appeal to the calorie conscious. If you are a beginner in the kitchen, get a good quality ready-prepared fish dish and follow the instructions. Plus a pillow pack of salad. You know she hankers for fantastic fresh cream chocs for dessert though!
Barry - I did have a look at doing the Sea Bass, or some other fancy dish, like steak pie & chips. Since all I have is a calor gas stove and a three bar fire, I decided it was best to splash out on a tin of Heinz baked beans & sausages for tea. I put some pepper and dried parsley in it to tart it up, with a few slices of toast on the side. This was washed down with a bottle of Lambrusco from Lidl and followed by a couple of those nasty, gelatinous individual trifles. Audrey's making those "Go to bed" eyes at me, but I have bowel rupturing gas and have to make my excuses. Not a good start. 2. You bought her a DVD of Casino Royale. You were neither threatened by, nor made fun of the fact that she ogled Daniel Craig and openly declared her undying devotion to him when Casino Royale came out. In fact, you rather like him too! Well, you would like to be him yourself, so you bought her the DVD the day it went on sale and you have watched it together about 100 times already.
Barry - Well, I didn't have the money to rent, never mind buy Casino Royale. That said, my mate Nasty Dan did get me a copy of Bukkake Royale for the price of a blank disc. I very much identify with the male lead in this film, and see him as a role model worthy of emulation. Sadly, Audrey thinks he's a hairy fat bastard with a curiously deformed penis. She claims that shagging him would be only slightly less pleasant than sharing a bed with me. A qualified success.
3. You get somebody in! She enjoyed watching you gamely try to help her dad jump-start his car but she admired the fact that after 5 mins you got out your mobile and called the AA. She finds your candour about being unable to replace a wheel, fix a drain or do anything handy about the house quite refreshing. Changing a fuse/lightbulb/battery is about as useful as you get but you don’t pretend to be Ray Mears and have the telephone number of an all purpose Mr Fixit pinned to the fridge.
Barry - Not a good round. Me and her old man hate each others guts. Honestly, if the old prick was trying to jump-start his car, I'd be busy trying to cut his brake cables. This is where I have to take exception to Penny & Sarah. I'm no handy man, but have you seen what tradesmen charge these days? Fucking crooks the lot of them! This is why I take care of these things myself. That I currently have no running water, no gas and half the lights in the house don't work is neither here nor there. 4. You never flirt with other women in front of her. You sensibly keep your opinions about other women to yourself. Women do not like their date to flirt with another female. They particularly dislike it when another woman plants herself at their boyfriend’s feet, kitten style, peering upwards, all doe-eyed. Nor do they like you to compliment someone enthusiastically on their appearance/success. It is bad form to bring this up with your girlfriend even once you have got home.
Barry - I have to say, I fall flat on this one. After eight pints of wife beater, three V&C's and only a packet of KP dry roasted to line the stomach, I find it hard not to let my crotch do the talking, and more often than not I can be found in the snug, on the way back from the bogs, sticking my tongue in the ear of some old dear that's done up like a christmas tree. I must say though, I do take Audrey's feelings into consideration my doing any drunken fumbling well out of her sight. 5. You let her hog the bathroom. She appreciates the fact that you shower and change in ten minutes flat so that she can spend hours doing her toilette before you head out for the evening.
Barry - My bog's fucked. You don't stay in it any longer than you need to unless you fancy catching cholera. 6. You never go clothes shopping with her. You understand that men and women have different ideas about the shopping experience. Men know what they want and buy it. Then go home. Women regard shopping as a leisure activity and can spend hours trying on every item of clothing in the shop. You let her get on with it.
Barry - Well, I once made the mistake of going to Primark with Audrey to buy her summer wardrobe. The security guard wouldn't leave us alone and rudely interrupted us as we were stuffing a five pound blouse into her bag in the changing room. Our protestations that we were simply putting it there until we got to the check-out fell on deaf ears and we spent a night in the cells. We used to end up in Littlewoods or What Everyone Wants, but now they're gone, the only other option is the charity shop circuit. It's not too bad though, she looks for dead peoples shoes and stone-washed denims, I check out the records and tapes section for the latest Suzi Quattro and Shakin' Stevens releases. 7. You are charming to her parents. According to the old saying, ‘my daughter is my daughter for all of her life; my son is my son until he gets a wife’. She loves the way you engage with her mum and dad. You treat them to the theatre, offer them lifts to the garden centre, buy her dad books on famous dictators and you haven’t yet complained that he has repeated the same lame joke about stamp collecting - ‘be like a nun- get in the habit!’– six times now.
Barry - I have a restraining order keeping me away from her parents. They failed to see the funny side of things when I pissed through their letterbox one Christmas eve on the way home from the pub. I mean, take a fuckin' joke!! 8. You take her to the sun. A girl likes to get into a bikini and worship the sun god for at least two weeks every year. She has also told you a hundred times that Mama Mia has made her lust after life on a Greek island. You realise that sun and sea are essential to her mental well-being. A fortnight under campus in rain-sodden Devon is not what she really hankers after in July, so even if it is going to be Torremolinos you make sure that she gets her annual beach fix.
Barry - Sadly, Audrey has been banned from every Spanish beach we've ever been to. Let's just say she makes Donatella Versace seem alluring. For this reason, we end up at Pontins, getting minced on cheap wine and spirits and entering Lambada contests with couples from Larkhall with matching King Billy tattoos and 'UVF' Indian inked across their knuckles. 9. You bring her coffee and toast in the morning. Women can be slow starters in the morning, especially after a big night. Once we are fully alert we can beaver away like dynamos until late at night but those initial waking minutes are painful. How fantastic then to rouse to the aroma of a strong cup of coffee and hot buttered toast! It is one of those small but significant gestures of affection and appreciation which makes her love you! Ditto bringing her a cup of tea when she looks exhausted.
Barry - Due mainly to the lumpy mattress, soggy quilt, rising damp and the lack of heating, Audrey tends not hang about in the mornings. I do remember once bringing her breakfast in bed, but I tripped on a pile of Exchange & Marts, sending her bowl of cornflakes all over the shop. Just as well I suppose, the milk was on the turn if I remember right. 10. You indulge her interest in chick lit and chick flicks. There are few things more irritating than having a partner expressing patronising views about our choice of light entertainment. We do not want to have our ‘cultural’ preferences ridiculed particularly if our partner’s tastes run to more esoteric and heavyweight intellectual literature and film. But, to your credit, you do not smirk when she goes to see the latest ‘bonnets’ film or slushy rom-com. Nor have you been sniffy about all the self-help/chick lit/cookery/horoscope books she devours.
Barry - Audrey's not one for Chick Flicks, and all she reads is TV Quick & the Star. As long as a film has Jean Claude Van Damme, Steven Segal or Vin Diesel in it, she's happy as larry and randy as a goat. No complaints here.........
So, there you have it. The verdict on the ten things men didn't realise their women liked about them. Barry knows exactly what Audrey likes about him.
Fuck all.
Three cheers for Penny & Sarah!

Friday, April 24, 2009

Piss & Vinegar

You know your day's off to a rollicking start when you find yourself offending Dr Who fans.
Look, all I said was that Dr Who was "Camp as Christmas". No great shock there, surely?
I must confess I enjoyed the old Timelords adventures as a kid. I still retain a spot for the Peter Davidson incarnation in particular, but the return of the series failed to excite much in me. One grows old and bored I suppose............
Christopher Ecclestone is a fine actor, but his take was rather stiff, like a PE teacher with constipation. Likewise, David Tennent is a good actor, but he seemed to become possessed by the evil spirit of Dick Van Dyke and spent most of his time mugging and hooting like a loon. The two extremes never sat well with me and I switched off. It was enough to make me to hanker after the days of Sylvester McCoy quite frankly. Add to the equation the fact that I'm allergic to both Billie Piper and Catherine Tate, and you end up with something guaranteed to rub me up the wrong way. Anyway, I digress.............
Ok, so I say "Dr Who is camp". At this point, I'm accused of not knowing what the word camp means. Lets be honest, does anyone know what that particular use of the word truly means? It's a bit of a floating definition. To some it means limp wrists and Larry Grayson, to others it means anything that's flamboyant, outrageous and OTT. It's a subjective term. One mans camp is another mans serious drama. To me, Dr Who is ridiculously melodramatic, over-written, over-acted, cliche ridden and ultimately annoying. Maybe it always was, and maybe these are good things, the show undoubtedly still tells good enough yarns to make for entertaining mass appeal TV. I'm just non-plussed as to why someone got all worked up because I thought the show was a wee bit silly.
I was then accused of saying I didn't like things that were popular to make myself look 'intellectual', but that's another story........................
Me? Intellectual?
Then I got verbally accosted by a tramp on the way home. Nice job!! It wasn't even proper abuse. It was that "yeah, just you wait until it happens to you" bullshit. Fucker! Reminds me of the old Bill Hicks gambit about bums.
"Definitely wasn't your personality that put you on the street".
Isn't that the script with begging? Some folk give and some folk don't. I didn't, and in return I get a po-faced lecture. Heres's the thing, I don't think he was a real tramp. No gent of the road worth his half bottle of Frosty Jacky would bother to abuse someone for not giving in such an erudite fashion. I have no proof, but if you see some prick begging at Charing Cross in Glasgow and he gives you any shite for not contribuing, feel free to piss on him, he's probably an undercover Guardian journalist.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Albino Burns Victim

The Easter egg lies to one side, ignored. The last stubborn gesture of a doomed man. Under his tenure, the department was cut off, not just by time and space, but by a belligerent autonomy that that led to it's current isolation. Nothing worked, least of all us. This was where you ended up if you annoyed someone or fucked something up. This was the Dead Letter Office. We hadn't received Easter eggs from the company for a few years. No big deal, just a box of cheap chocolate, but it told you everything you needed to know. We were the Damned United. The wee man though, he won't be suckered with this tawdry gift. The gaudy carboard box sits on his desk and gathers dust. A bit like he did, truth be told...... He's letting us all know what he thinks of the company who gave him the boot, as he winds down his last few days before finding himself a job more suitable to his talents. Like a shelf stacker. Or a toilet attendant. Who'd have thought he was once one of Sir Fred's little devil spawn? I tell you this though, I envy him. Next month he'll be at home watching Jeremy Kyle, Bargain Hunt and Fuck Truck Vol IIV while I grind through spreadsheets and write letters to the sort of wankers who remortgage seven times a year. What's fair about that? Brough Park, Newcastle Easter Monday is usually a hellish drag of a day. It's like a 2nd Sunday, except without the speedway. That's why this year I accepted the offer of Ashfield aquaintance Paulco and took a berth on the Glasgow supporters bus down to the north east of England to watch the Tigers take on Newcastle Diamonds. Glad I did. The journey down went by in a flash, as did the return, due mainly to good company and constant banter. Brough Park, being a night track based at a greyhound stadium, is a very different prospect to Ashfield. On the up-side there's no dust and the floodlighting provides a great atmosphere. The hospitality and facilities are also top notch and on the night we visited, they had sorted the track to provide maximum entertainment. The rubbish elements included limited viewing (only the home straight, about thirty feet from the track), and the sense that photography is a bit of a no-no (I could be wrong on that though) Anyway, a great night out and better than spending the day sleeping and watching fucking Bond flims and religious epics.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Easter Wanderings

You sir, are a fud!
More Here!
Sorry there hasn't been much in the way of anything to read out of me recently, I'm kind of tied up with various other things. I'll pop back on Friday with some random musings, just for old times sake............

Friday, April 10, 2009

Wednesday, April 08, 2009


Spring has sprang (sic) and I've been shooting away like a man possessed. My latest efforts are now up on Gasoline Rainbows. Gasoline Rainbows is also now in my sidebar, as I realise I've been hiding it away for some reason known only unto myself.

Friday, April 03, 2009

Anarchy In The UK(ulele)

I love my Uke! I've only had it a week and already I can play Smoke On The Water........... Actually, that's a total lie, and you all know it. I haven't even managed 'Bobby Shaftoe' or 'Michael Row The Boat Ashore' yet, but it's a lovely thing to be able to pick it up, fiddle about with the tunings and find new chords that one day I might be able to mangle together into a song. It's also performed the function of getting me interested in playing again. Believe me, after the ukulele, my acoustic guitar no longer seems like such a chore, and the electric is a breeze to play. As one who takes nothing to do with barre chords, the uke is a bit of a bitch to play, but I've spent half of tonight figuring out some really nice sounding open chords that even the most club fisted struggler with 'stupid fingers' can play with ease. Can I also just say "Ha! Ha! Fuck You Barry Ferguson!! Ya over-rated wee tadger! I bet the guys who went and backed you up to keep you in the squad are wishing they hadn't bothered now............. The Monster Munch Committee is now adjourned.................. One final football mention. Rafa Benitez, manager of Liverpool gets the phrase 'squeaky bum time' thrown at him by some dinlow hack. Poor guy, he probably thought it was a new pole dancing bar that had opened up in Liverpool, and was expecting to hear that several of his players had been to see what was on offer................ Ok, Johnny Thunders & The Heartbreakers now............. Born To Lose