TBWHT

TCT

2010-02-01T20:36:00.002Z

So, they tried to book a gig without me knowing, ay? Ah, ha. Didn't work did it. I today, thanks to Sue, found out the ywill be playing the RAH in March. Who? Yup. Tickets on sale on my Birthday. Watch this space.

Who to play at Superbowl

2009-11-17T20:04:00.001Z

Who to Play at Superbowl

I can today -almost exclusively - announce that the Who will be play at the Superbowl in 2010.

The two remaining original members, Pete T..., oh, you know who they are by now, were today unavailable for comment. Townshend, who is busy Flossing and Daltrey on tour with the Werther Throat Sweet-sponsered "use it or lose it" tour, are by all accounts, "dead excited."
Long-term brother of Townshend, Simon Townshend commented: "Yeah, ever since they were photographed wearing football helmets for the cover of their "Odds & Sods" album they have made it their goal to play at the Superbowl."

An NFL spokesperson said: "It's going to be a blast. Townshend & Daltrey were drafted in by the Patriots in close season; Townshend as A back-up Quarterback and Daltrey as a kicker". He added: "Pete's got a great arm action so is ideal for the position. Daltrey, however, is a short git and we couldn't think of anywhere else to play him except Kicker. Let's hope it doesn't come to a last-minute field goal attempt in overtime, ay?"

When pressed on what would happen if the Patriots didn't reach the final he drawled: "Oh man, I don't even want to think about that right now. If the Patriots don't get there -and we will do anything we can to ensure they do-then it means that the Who will have to do the half-time show. I mean, how many times can one nation hear Won't get fooled again?" "God save us."

The Who's manager, Bill Curbishly -long-term brother of Alan, disgraced ex manager of the mighty West Ham, said: "Is that what he said?" (of the NFL spokesperson) "Well in that case, we'll do Baba O'Reilly, then".

The NFL spokesperson replied: "Is that what he said?" (of Bill Curbishly). "Thank fuck for that, it's a better song."

Curbishly retorted: " Did he really say that?" (Of the NFL spokesperson)

At which point I reminded them both that we were in the same room and they really need to get over this not talking to each other bollocks and grow up.

On Tour

2009-10-22T21:26:00.002+01:00

So, Spiny Norman are on a mini tour. I say tour, it's 3 gigs in the next two weeks'. And all of them pretty much local so no aeroplanes to Cyprus worse luck.

To yet again borrow something from the world of the Who -Roger Daltrey's solo tour is called, Use it or lose it -I have nicknamed the tour, Lose what? We never had any. Or words to that effect.

Considering we planned at the end of last year to gig more, this has been a pretty quiet year for Spiny. I have noticed a few changes in the guys: Al is shorter and has less hair -no mean feat as he was totally bald anyway- Andy has monkey thumbs from twiddling the knobs on his amp unattended and Egg, love him, looks 40 years older. One good thing to come out of the recent practice sessions at Manic Studios, is that the owner has now cancelled proposed building works due to Egg constantly leaning against the wall and thus correcting a very bad tilt.

We have been joined in the studio by Johnie Monkey Hawkins, lead singer of Funky Monkey, who will be fronting the stage -well, upturned timber pallet really - for a one-off musical marvel in Mountain Ash.

I, of course, am fighting fit and ready to go accept for: a sore neck,aching arms, and a dodgy knee. Oh, and a lack of drumsticks and no time to go and buy some.

Makes for some good shows.

So what's new?

2009-08-01T15:18:00.003+01:00

Just a bit.

Been doing a different job for the last 6 weeks. Who knows, it may turn out to be permanent an i can leave proper work behind.

Bought another new geetar. Pics to follow.

Apart from that Spiny Norman are very, very quiet. It's all because Andy is a very, very busy little s*****r. No details, i'm afraid. Strict instructions not to say anything -not even a hint of it.
D'oh.

News is we are in for a practice session in a month. i think by that time i will have forgotten what Egg looks like and I may mistake him as an intruder.

Alun, Andy and I went to see a Status Quo covers band last night. Pretty average really. That's what has given us renewed hope for Spiny. Although that may have been the atmos getting to us as no doubt, we will struggle to plug the new mixer in, let alone get it sounding proper.

We have an updated web site. http://www.spiny-norman.co.uk

go there, click on my name and you'll get linked back to here. Totally pointless but it's a good way to kill a bit of time.

TA DA

2009-04-05T21:01:00.002+01:00

Well, look who's back. Delbut has been away too long. To be honest, not had anything interesting or funny to say and i don't do boring ( matter of opinion, i suppose).

What have i been doing? Absofuckinglutley not much. Like everyone else, i have fallen into the facebook trap and am getting bored of that now.
Still playing with Spiny and about to "sit-in" with another band for a couple of gigs so learning some new stuff, too. Also been learning some guitar stuff with an old mate of mine from another band i used to play in. So, musically busy but in a amatuer type of way.

Was hoping to get back to Cyprus in May but Andy our guitar player is being a poof and spending his money on his shitpit of a car. (Poof? Can't use that anymore, can I? I'm not poofist, some of my best friends...yada,yada,yada. No, seriously, i love you all -although not in a biblical sense)

Well, watch this space -i'll be back in September if true to form.

Polifuckingticians- A Rant.

2008-09-05T19:12:00.003+01:00

Although i have strong political views, I have no political allegiance to any of our parties here in the UK. I tend to agree and disagree with all parties on certain bits of their main policies. They are ALL in it for themselves and what started out as a working for the dirty masses, has turned into a selfish, self-promoting, fuck you jack, free-for-all.

i cant think of one politician who would last 10 minutes in a "proper" job. The amount of fuck-ups by this and past governments are, sadly, too many to list and would be laughable if not so serious in that they fuck up so many people's lives. The latest example of talking before you are fully awake has come from Yvette Cooper, cabinet spokes person for something or other (the treasury, i think) responded to the conservatives' announcement that they would, if they get to power, raise the threshold of Inheritance tax to £1m per person or £2m for a couple. ( currently set by Labour at £1/4M or there abouts) Yvette, I would like to think, in a state of panic (but it probably is down to straightforward idiocy), commented thus:
" It's just a tax break for millionaires". HELLO, you stupid bitch. If you pay no tax on inheritance under £1M; and therefore pay tax on £1M or over, it's a tax ON millionaires. How stupid can one person be? No need to answer that one, i know from experience.

By popular demand

2008-08-19T16:12:00.004+01:00

Ok folks. some of you still come here to read what Delbut is up to. Sue even suggested that i should "make something up like i used to". Sue, everything on here is true and factual. I've never made anything up.

Today's topic is the Olympics. Seems team GB has had one of the most successful Olympics -ever. We are third only to the Chinese and Americans. Yeah, we are beating the Aussies. Whoohoo.

Now the realistic bit. We have won most of our medals either in or on the water or on a push bike. Mmm. Considering we are surrounded by water and have had the wettest summer on record and most of the in-land area consists of very large puddles and, just as importantly, because we have run out of petrol, we are now cycling everywhere, how could we fail?

All other events that rely on: throwing things, lifting things, hand/eye coordination, shooting clay objects, punching people, running around in circles, running a long way, jumping over things in the way, any ball game, dressing up in leotards, bows and arrows -well, everything else really-we are still pretty crap at.

What we need now is another conflict with the French so we can brush up on the archery and shooting skills and maybe ask the Romans, Angles and Vikings to invade us again so we can practice the running away bit. We have got too comfortable in peace time so Delbut's answer is: full-on WAR. I intend standing on a cliff at Dover and showing my naked arse to the French while doodling a beard on to a photograph of Edith Piaf. That should do it.

P.S.
Is it wrong to watch the female swimmers for more than their aquatic ability?

2008-06-19T09:36:00.008+01:00

So, what has been happening in the world of Delbut? Well, apart from making sweet lurve to my new lover (see last post) I have mostly been to Cyprus. Northern Cyprus. Kyrenia, to be exact.

Why? I hear you say.

Because Spiny Norman, top Welsh covers band, was invited out there to take part in the first Big Jam weekend in the Tunnel Rock Bar.

To be honest, Delbut was a little negative about it to start with. (Only because we had to fly out at 10pm and, having to stop in Istanbul, Turkey to re-wind the elastic band that was the engine, before flying on to Ercan airport landing at 5am.) but that soon lifted when we got through customs with guitars in tact and Delbut had his first fag in 7 hours.

Taxi to the hotel was waiting for us and we get there in time for breakfast. A quick kip and off to the tunnel bar at 3pm for a sound check. This is where we started to think we were a little out of our depth. Massive P.A (anything over 600w is huge for us) good equipment, big stage and in a line-up with musicians that know their stuff.

(Spiny and Red Raw conceal the fact that 12 televisions have been thrown into the pool. how childish).

Which brings me to the other bands on the bill. We flew over with a great Scottish band, Red Raw who, to be honest, had an even longer trip to get there than we did, a local blues band whose name escapes me, and resident band. Funky Monkey. Top, top band made up of a Welshman, Scot, Cypriot and Turkish musicians. These guys seriously kick arse and were also the promoters of the event.

First thing we had to do was to sink a couple of lagers, which we begrudgingly did, do the sound check From here on, it got a little surreal, to say the least. Big Al, (bass/vocal) trotted off to do an interview for Cypriot radio. What? Then, during lunch, we were told we had to Turkish TV. interviews. What the fuck?

Apparently, this was a big thing for Northern Cyprus, who have not had too many travelling bands call in. Stupidly, Delbut volunteered along with Egg (guitar) to do it. Even more stupidly, I suggested that to make the most of this one time opportunity, we must elect a word that we had to sneak into the interview. Egg gave me “pineapple”. Never playing this game before, I gave Egg “transit van” and “bread”. Which, on reflection was rather too easy!

(Egg talks bollocks to a t.v man from turkey).

Anyway, apparently, Spiny Norman will be playing at the world-famous Pineapple festival in Birmingham in the summer, and Egg enjoyed breaking bread with some good people and is looking forward to chucking the gear in the back of a transit van and touring the world.

Friday’s gig.

Spiny Norman became the first western band to officially play on Cypriot soil. We were second on and already sunk enough of Jonnie's Tequila to fill a bass drum. But it went well. No, it went spiffingly well.

Red Raw was on next and they were absolutely fab. A great band but better than that, a great bunch of guys.

Ok. With a collective sigh of relief, we then watched Funky Monkey. I’ve seen a lot of covers bands in my time but these guys are a cut above. And gorgeous Anna on guest vocal added a bit of glamour.

(Um, what chord is it?)

Saturday.

Probably got to bed about 4am. I was up at 8am. Ears ringing from last night, I needed food. Eventually, when everyone got up, Spiny and Red Raw were on a mission for an English breakfast. We found Molly’s. The best brekkie ever. It was here that we decided on the plan for the day. Andy (guitar/vocals) and Al had to go do a radio interview. Ok, what word must Andy get in?
To be fair we were democratic about it. Give me a number, says Delbut. 48 says, Al. K, turn to page 48 of yesterdays Times. Number from 1-3. 3, says Al. K. Number from 1 –8. 8. K. Any number up to 20.- 10 he says. Cool. Stamford Bridge. (football stadium). Apparently, we have a secret 5th member of the band. Suffering with snow blindness. Stamford couldn’t be with us on this trip but we wished him all the best.

The gig on Saturday was again great fun. More people there and a great atmos.

(The fab Anna does her Mel C impersonation).

Sunday was a day off and we flew back on Monday.
We have been invited back to play in July at Big Jam 2, which promises to be as good but with even more tequila. Where will all this jet setting end? Apart from the newly-invented Pineapple festival …and a wedding to play?

My Baby waits in the day for the night...

2008-03-24T21:32:00.003Z

Ok. So i bought this new geetar. #She is my baby and i love her yeah#.
She is not new really -no, someone else has fingered her - but she is mine now. Ok, the pictures are crap -flash wouldn't work -so i'll take some new ones tomorrow. But it's a Gibon J-200 and she is called Mary-Ann.

For Sale

2008-02-22T22:33:00.002Z

One number VW Camper -slightly used. this has one careful owner and one very careless one. Used in the early days of The Who, it was owned by Mr Pete Townshend but driven by Roger Daltrey because Mr Townshend was always pissed.

Lovingly restored by Rachel Fuller to near its original splendour. (as you can see) You can buy it NOW for £50 or willing to trade for a completed Premier League All-Stars 2007 sticker book.

Buyer must collect from Richmond-on-Thames.

Guernsey update, workload, and the fucking customs and excise bastards.

2008-02-22T14:41:00.002Z

Went over to Guernsey this week for a last minute check. Was expecting to see it more-or-less finished but there is still loads to do and it's supposed to be open next Thursday. My ass is on the line and it's twitching like a heroin-addict's arm muscle.

We only have the highest government officer on the Island and his wife and about 50 other people going to the opening so not much at stake.

Apart from that, two other jobs have finished on time and are looking mighty fine. Only another 20-odd to go.

I went away hoping that my new lover would be here when i got back. A new Gibson J-200 acoustic. Blond it is. (although i prefer brunettes) How foolish of me to think that all would be well. Apparently, it took 5 days to ship from the U.S., which is OK by me -quite good actually - but it's been sitting in customs and excise ever since (3 days!)

I know you have to quarantine animals and that you have to check packages for drugs and stuff but fuck me, how long does it take to assess a 12-year-old guitar? And -this is the best- I may have to pay import tax on it. A second hand, one-off transaction is subject to our government getting some more money off me to spend on their second homes in London. It's perverse.

Just for a change

2008-01-13T20:09:00.000Z

I'd thought i'd write something about my work.

tis busy, busy, busy already. My job tasks are many-fold but to not bore you, basically i make sure our buildings are maintained, do a bit of design work for refurbishment projects ( that's re-modelling to the yanks, or "tarting them up" if you are Welsh)). And getting contractors to do all the work. I travel quite a bit around part of this insignificant country and get to sit in many traffic jams.

Anyway. I have 26 tarting-up jobs to complete this year (that's one every fortnight-dur) and still do all the other little pain in the arse bits to 200 properties.

As you may imagine, not all jobs go swimmingly so there may be a bit of swearing on here when i report in from time to time.

We are currently on site at our shop on the island of Guernsey, which is just off the French coast. Now i like going there. The flights are few and far between, which means i have to stay over for a night or two, AND i get to bring back duty-free fags. Bargain. The guys started on site on Monday. Well, they would have if the ferry hadn't been cancelled. Bugger, already a day behind. I get a phone call on the tuesday.
" Good news. We are here and have started digging holes."
"Cool", said I.
" Mmm, hang on a minute", said the voice. " We have uncovered a hole that shouldn't be there. It's 6 ft deep and 4 ft across and lined with bricks. We think it may be a well."
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"No, a well?"
"Yeah, you know. A hole in the ground that you keep wat..."
" Yes, yes, i know what a fucking well is."
"It's not my fault". He said, rather hurt.
"Where is it?" I stupidly asked.
"in...the...ground". He spoke slowly.
"Is the boss there". Hopefully.
"He's taking a dump". (shit) He said, far too openly.
"Ok.You'll have to do. Where, in relation to the walls of the new building, is the hole?"
" Oh! Right underneath where two walls join".

"Fucking marvellous", I muttered.

" We need an engineer to tell us what to do." He said, passing the buck.
"I could tell you." I thought

This went on for far too long but eventually we found that it was just an old, disused pit ( probably used to keep builders' brains in) and decided to shift the walls a bit and fill the hole in.

I'm sure this saga isn't over.

It's that time of year

2008-01-04T21:13:00.000Z

I don't usually get maudling around this time of year. I'm not one for false hopes or wishes so there are no resolutions here.

But saying that, it does make you think,when someone as cool and as nice as Kid Ric passes briefly through your cyber-life;only to be taken away just as quick, perhaps i should have some hopes and wishes?

Ok, just to join in. This year I will be mainly wanting to:

1) Seeing James Casey's band play live.
2) Finishing my mini-opera
3) Starting my book.
4) Buy a Gibson J200
5) Help someone in a fix. ( I know all the beauty pagent girls say they want to that sort of stuff, but it's sincere).
6) NEWLY ADDED - Enter Bex ( i could stop typing there, but better not) 's forum challenge.

BUT befoe i can do that, i have the small problem of this year's panto!!

This year, the Village players are doing Peter Pan. there will be much swaggering and general mayhem. I usually have a small part ( see, the jokes have started already......ta -da I thenk you)
and sort out the sound effects and lighting and sound track etc, then get a monkey to push all the right buttons. this year there will be no acting for me so i've spanked my monkey ( waits for tittering to end) and sent him on his way. I will sit in the attic space and press my own buttons.

I will be locked in for 2 hours with only a bottle to piss in and no where to sneak a fag.

As soon as it's done, i will continue my musical opus (more like 'opeless ) and do a bit of work with Suesjoy, my singing mucker (friend). Until then, let's all swash a buckleand enjoy life before anything nasty happens.

Love and peace.

P.S. I've managed to sneak a Who number in to the panto. Don't tell Pete, he'll sue me.

Amazing Journey

2007-11-23T21:24:00.000Z

Went to the premiere of the Who's Amazing Journey a while back. Enjoyed the film a lot and it was very moving toward the end. Another thing that moved was a card poster advertising the film. It was originally strapped to the fence keeping the riff-raff out, but i liberated it and got uncle Roger to sign it for me. I think you may be able to make it out in the top, left corner. It says: to delbut -Roger Daltrey. He wanted to put kisses on it but i said: No Rog, we are grown men, leave it out. Uncle Pete avoided me by nipping out of a side fire escape. He realy is doing a good job of hiding his love for me.

I did have my eye on a 6 foot-tall, free-standing cardboard advertising thingy but my wife correctly pointed out that a) we'd never get it out of the building unseen and b) just supposing we used the same fire escape as Pete and did get it out with my nuts in tact, we'd struggle to get on the tube train. Good point, i thought.

There were a few other "stars" there but if they are not in the Who, they can fuck off.

Got Bored

2007-10-15T13:39:00.001+01:00

I fancied a change. Hence the new layout. The content is still crap though.

A rimblerumblerambling from delbut

2007-10-03T19:36:00.000+01:00

First of all, i couldn't think of a title so i put my thought process and writing technique into words a la Pete Townshend's coolwalkingsmoothtalking....blah blah.

Ok. For reasons only a head doctor would undertand, i was surfing Youtube for the lyrics and chords to radioheads, Green plastic trees the other day. What a whacked out fucker that guy is. Positively scary. It is a georgeous song but don't ask me to write an essay on it coz i haven't got a clue what he's on about -or on, for that matter.

After watching the video about a million times, i got bored -and depressed -so surfed a little more and found some ice hockey clips. I use the term, ice hockey very, very loosely. It was like a Saturday night in my local town: bodies everywhere just hammering seven shades of shit out of each other. BTW, are you familier with the term, seven shades of shit? Not that i've dwelled on it a lot but are there seven shades of shit? I dont think so. Perhaps it's the alliteration of it ? Now i have dwelled on it, i think there are probably more like 3 shades. Perhaps the saying should go: 3 colours of crap? I can think of 3 colours of crap: green, like a new-born baby, the proper brown colour (although there could be several hues of Brown, i suppose) and Black. Black normally occurs after a day drinking Stout bitter. That's Guiness, that is. (is that the right spelling?)

Back to the ice hockey. It was good in a, i'm a bloke and i like watching blokes stick it to each other in the name of sportsmanship but don't ask me to join in -i'm scared. kinda way.

I'm a lover, not a fighter so i'll go back to surfing por...Ebay, Ahem.

So, what term do you use to express the outcome of Canadian, Bear shagging,hockey stick-wielding grunts hitting each other over the head?

I was going to put a picture of 3 shades of shit up, but i thought that may be impolite,

Crashing The Attic

2007-09-13T15:40:00.000+01:00

So, the secret is out. Rumours of me being in jail and only being allowed to post here once in a while were completely unfounded. ( if not a good stab in the dark. (Which is what goes on in prisons -so i've heard))

My lack of blogging here has been due to work load (real life) and working on a tribute CD (made up life) to Rachel Fuller and her "In The Attic" Webcast Show.

Those of you who come here will already know of it and are keen watchers. There may be someone who visits here and knows nothing about it -but i doubt it because i don't have any friends.

Well, in the show, Rachel covered some songs -just like that -no practice. I thought me and some mates (i know, some friends and I ) could do that as a sort of a tip of the hat; a tug of the forlock kind of tribute by covering some Rach, Mikey Pete & Simon songs and sending them to them. ( For those of you who do not know of which Pete i talk of -just think greatest all-round guitar player ever) It took a little longer than Rachel takes to get them sounding something like a joined-up song, but we did it.

After sending them the finished CD, I expected them to give it a once-over, chuckle between themselves, bin it and move on.

I should have known better. Both Rachel and Pete (yes, that one) have given it a bit more than just a cursory listen. For that i am extremely grateful and touched by such major stars taking the time to comment on it. (especially when i, personally, have ruined some great Pete songs. ( yes, it's him, honest)).

I had the pleasure of working with( oh, hark at me and my showbiz talk) some really talented, NICE, amatuer musos -over t'internet- which made it a blast and worthwhile even if it had been binned.

For reasons that lawyers will probably be only too happy to point out to me while standing in the dock awaiting sentence for breach of copyright etc, I am not at liberty to share the product with you just yet -if at all. I don't want to piss anyone off. Especially that guitar bloke i mentioned -he's quite handy with a Stratocaster-shaped piece of wood. Rachel may put it up somewhere -we'll see. but for now, i have to remain true to my word that i wouldn't.

You can, however, take a look at the cover. Then i will be able to hear you say: "What a fucking egotistical knob". Guess what? I know.

I will be around for a while then i'm off to sample the whole of Quadrophenia and rearrange it and call it my own. It's a winner.

Me on a good day

2007-07-27T20:38:00.000+01:00

Play your cards right and you could wake up to this every morning.

nuff said.

Update 29/07/07

Gee, thanks for all your concern here peeps. this is what you get when you heroically defend a maiden when she is in trouble. Or playing that most stupid of all games -cricket, which is the real cause of my shiner.
I was thinking of making up a story of large-breasted women loosening over-filled FF cups while bending over me in an erotic manner but...who would believe that.

Yet another Tag

2007-07-18T14:24:00.000+01:00

This Tag was over at Bex's. i was bored, ok?

My roommate and I once: Never roomed with anyone except when on tour with a bunch of footballers. We did once –in a hotel in Manchester - move a large wardrobe in the corridor to cover the doorway to the room next to ours. When getting back from a night on the beer, our next door neighbours couldn’t find the room. We giggled for a while then moved the wardrobe to our doorway, took the back panel off and got about 12 of us into the room. We waited for an opportune time i.e. a bunch of japanese tourists to turn up and then we all existed the cupboard to the open-mouthed stupification of said Japanese.

Never in my life have I: Jumped off a very tall building without a bungee rope and survived

High school was : The bestest laugh I’ve had. 5 years of mirth and merriment with very little to show for it in terms of grades.

When I'm nervous : I smoke too much, get bad wind and if it’s sexual nervousness, get my excuses in first.
My hair : Used to be Brown. Is now Brown and Grey and not all still present.

When I was 5 : I was nearly 6. oh, and I broke my elbow when I fell out of a cherry tree. My dog ran home to tell my mum. Seriously.

When I turn my head left : I get a funny clicking noise. Old football injury.

I should be : built in the trouser department like John Holmes be as rich as an Arab Sheikh.

By this time next year : I will be older, have a dick like Katey Holmes and have enough money to buy a milk shake.

My favorite aunt is : The richest one without children
I
have a hard time understanding : Most foreign languages, women and the instructions that came with the xbox 360

You know I like you if : I sleep with you

My ideal breakfast is : Prefferably in the morning when I get up and will consist of a large cup of tea, a fag and then some food –maybe.

If you visit my home town : You will probably get mugged by a Polish waiter and decide that this place is a shithole and like me, will move about 3 miles up the road to a nice little village.

If you spend the night at my house : You will be expected to flash a bit of flesh by “mistake” when you walk through my living room on the way back from your bath/shower.

My favorite blonde is : Not from a bottle and actually realises that there is someone else in the world apart from her/him

My favorite brunette is : One that realises that being bottle blonde is not good, big or clever and will not get you noticed more.

The animal I would like to see flying besides birds : Is this a trick question? Do you mean beside as in: not including, or besides as in, next to? I think seeing a bird and a cat flying next to each other would be quite a laugh.

I shouldn't have been : Spanked when I was a kid for nicking my sister’s money to buy fags.

Last night I: had band rehearsals and came home all sweaty. Nice. And slept .

A better name for me would be : Clive

I've been told I look like I – clint Eastwood, Paul Newman, robert redford –you know, all the plain-looking guys.

If I could have any car, it would be : A new concept car that ran on verbal bullshit and turned invisable when I went over 70 miles an hour and which had a button that when pressed, would create my own virtual motorway so I wouldn’t have to sit in traffic jams.

Bring it on, you northern tossers.

2007-06-07T16:14:00.000+01:00

Ok, quick potted history of this year's football.

West Ham United - my fav team - were doing really badly. They were on the point of finishing in the bottom 3 and therefore, getting relegated to the division below. But, they won a bunch of games at the end and managed to saty up. With me? good. BUT. They signed a couple of players from Argentina and it turns out they did it illegally. So they get fined £5m. A lot of people thought this was too lenient and called for them to be deducted points. Anyway, one of the teams who finished below them -and got relegated to the division below -are challenging the matter in court, in a hope that West Ham will get relegated instead. Still with me? It matters, because there is about £50m involved in television rights.

Right, that's not the point of my post.

The point is: this other team -Sheffield United - have a famous celeb supporter, who is going to go to the politicians and complain to them! Sean Bean -famous for...erm...hang on...oh, yeah, being a baddy in a James Bond film.

God, he looks gay.

Firstly, i'm surprised such a backward team has a famous supporter, secondly, i'm surprised he admits it. Thirdly, i'm dissapointed he is going to the politicians.

So to raise the stakes, as it were. We'll see your Sean Bean, and raise you a Ray Winston (Who connection, anyone?) , A Danny Dyer, A David Essex and to top it all, Frodo fucking Baggins. (Elijah Wood made a film called Green Street, which was about an American getting caught up with West Ham's hooligan supporters. )

I intend to invite Mr Bean (heehee) to a fist fight with Ray Winston (still not got the Who connection???) Winner's team stays up. BRING IT ON.

If by some stretch of the imagination Sean Bean beats Ray Winston ( i know, it's just me being stupid) then Frodo will kick him in the nuts.

Oh Dear

2007-05-18T20:50:00.000+01:00

Oh dear, this is what happens when a certain lady buys a new car and drives it without Male assistance. Will she ever learn?

There is no truth in the rumour that she went to the pub and left the handbrake off. No, it was a handbag crisis while trying to park, type of accident. Sheesh.

30 women, two bars of soap and not a camera in sight

2007-05-08T09:54:00.000+01:00

It's very easy for a bloke to sound patronising about women playing a "mans" game. but i watched a bunch of them playing football in the women's FA cup final yesterday. 'Twas on T.V. And it was fab. Same game but without the cynicism. What did dissapoint though, was the fact that you had all this totty in shorts and sport's bras and no-one thought of getting a camera in the changing rooms and showers. Dur. BBC- sort it out for next year.

Ok, i'm off the Hertfordshire to pick up a new car.

See you guys later.

Apologies

2007-03-29T12:52:00.000+01:00

Not just for not blogging lately. The usual excuse: too much work, blah, blah.

No, i want to apologise to the world. You may or may not know or care, but there have been "celebratations" to mark 200 years since slavery was abolished. Apparantly, there are a number of people out there on planet stupid who think that i owe them an apology for people i never met enslaving people they never met. Granted, slavery in all its forms is a terrible thing, but i have never enslaved anyone (unless you count that woman i have handcuffed in my cupboard). Am i responsible/ culpable for men in stupid clothes who rode the high seas?

Maybe better to concentrate on the slavery that still exists today, thinly disguised as giving poor people the chance to live. I talk of workers paid $10 a day to build luxurious apartments in Saudi Arabia for mega-rich Sheikhs to sell on to their mega-rich celebrity friends; eastern European girls being shipped to Britain to work in the sex trade.

But, as dear old Delbut has a concience, i have been busy arranging a "let's get around the table and be nice to each other" conference. Theme of the meeting was: "Let's all touch hands and say sorry".

I hand wrote invitations and sent them out to people i thought need to apologise for everything. "Where should i start?" i said. "Stop talking to yourself and get on with it", i replied.

Eventually, i had a list and invited people to a secret place in...well, i can't say, it's secret.

The event turned out to be a bit of a potted history of the world, with participants from around the globe. In order, everyone got up and said their bit.

A nice bloke from Milan started. He apologised for the Roman invasion of Britain. It was agreed that the benefits of what they brought us far outweighed the bad bits and we thanked him for being able to crap in a proper toilet, rather than a hole in the field.

Lars, from somewhere cold apologised for the raping and pillaging of North Yorkshire and trying to halt the tide. We agreed that the raping and pillaging was naughty but the attemt to stem the tide was valid, as now, parts of the north-east coast have eroded and fallen into the sea. It was agreed that they should have tried harder.

Next was a rather smelly bloke from Normandy. He said sorry for invading southern Britain while old Harlod was busy shooing awayLars's folks from Hull. Apology accepted.

On behalf of the Welsh folk, i apologised to the English people of Shropshire and Herefordshire for our - although cunningly well thought out - invasions across the border. Oh, and for giving the world Shirley Bassey.
The English then apologised for: Invading Scotland, Wales, India... list too long but practically everywhere.
Collectively, the English and by default, the Welsh/Scots for the potato famine in Ireland. The Irish then spoke of their sorrow for sending so many people to America and all but killing off the Indians on their travels west.
Which brings me to Brian. I invited Brian from Plymouth. ( for you Americans. That's where you were born) He said sorry for sailing to America and giving the flu to a bunch of Indians. But did like to point out that if it wasn't for them, Thanksgiving day would not have been invented. No excuse, we all said. Repent. He cried a bit but did as he was told.
Then came Troy. he's from California. He wanted to express his grief for the San Andreas fault. We said it's not his fault. He said it was - he missed the irony in our joke (God, even the French bloke got it) - we took pity and he sat down.

I thought about all the other wrong-doings in the world and just gave up. Too much to apologise for. We all agreed to leave the pub and go away and think about our actions in the future. But not before we ate a hearty dinner of beef (sorry cows), served by under-paid wenches (sorry women) with loads of wine (sorry itinerant grape pickers)

To all my readers. Sorry for making you read this.

Whatever.

2007-02-28T20:27:00.000Z

Ok, so i visit Bex's blog and seems i have two challenges.

1) Must do the tag she tagged me with

2) Must start a tag.

Like Bex, i'm not a lover of these pain in the arse, stupid tags but as she is a Fuller, and prone to sticking pins in things, i thought it easier to join in than have a spell put on me or something. (not that she ie a witch or anything, but... ah, good, someone took the shovel off me.)

And doing this stops me having to carry on with my life story. So.

The current tag was: Find a book -I didn't think Janet&John or Spot the dog would suffice. Largly due to the fact that they are only 10 pages long. Name the book and Author. Ok.

Turn to page 123 (now you see why the two i mentioned wwere not useable)

go to the 5th Sentence and copy the next 3 sentences.

What the fuck? Pointless but here goes.

Please take note: I am in my office. I work here. I do not read anything other than workstuff and the internet here. (ok, i lied but Largeones doesn't go to 123 pages either and is mostly pictures)

Book: Building and land management law for students, 3rd Edition by Anne Galbraith & Michael Stockdale.

page 123: 5th Sentence and beyond: One of the major difficulties when dealing with breach of contract is trying to establish exactly which breaches have the effect of discharging. Where such a major breach can be indentified, the injured party may nonetheless want to go ahead with the contract, and simply ignore the breach, or more likely, seek compensation for it. All breaches of contract, however large or small, give the injured party the right to sue for damages.

Well, that begs the question. (this is me now, not the book talking) can i have the right to sue? And will Sue be willing for me to claim her under my rights as the injured party? Which bits of me are injured, i hear you say! Well, the hearing isn't too good, my knees click, i have a broken neck and i have an itch only i can reach without breaking some sex-crime law.

I will be composing my own tag shortly so look out Bex, my sweetness, it will not be one for the faint hearted.

In the meantime. Here is an old picture of me (c.1992) in a band, in a pub in Worcester. AS i remember -a fucking good gig and a good night followed.

Delbut. (Who he?)

2007-02-22T19:28:00.001Z

Again i am being an intellectual pariah and pinched ideas off Pete Townshend.

He will be posting some of his keenly awaited autobiography here (although he could change his mind again and not bother.) And needless to say, I've pinched his idea.

The first part of his book will be 1945 -1969, which is an odd way to express, quarter to eight to nearly 10 past eight but that's how a genius's mind works, i guess.

So, what did i do between those times. Well, due to there being fucking rubbish on the t.v., i run a bath at 17:45 and was sitting in it by 17:55. Then, i lay back and shut my eyes, which took me to 18:06 because then, my daughter knocked on the door and said: " Dad, how long will you be?" For the love of sweet Jesus can a man have NO time to himself? So. At 18:08 i grabbed the soap. Two minutes later, i reached for the loofah and...

What i did between 18:08 and 18:27 with the loofah, a sachet of shampoo and rubber glove will the topic of chapter two.

What fucking snow?? A Rant.

2007-02-12T17:24:00.000Z

For all my non-British friends, we had snow last week. When i say snow it was about enough to sprinkle on a hand full of Bex's hand-made cards. She does make some great stuff by the way. If you haven't seen them check it out.

Anyway, back to the snow. Granted, we had about 4 inches in my part of the world and the kids went off with their trays to toboggan down hills rather than going to school. Me? Dull fucker Delbut was about 300 miles away in north Wales and missed it. I drove back the next day and it had all gone. Twat it, said I.
Anywho, it started again on Friday and the school sent the kids home again. By the time they got home it had melted and Delbut missed out on skiing again. Fuck it, said I.

Apart from me not getting to act like a kid, i had to suffer the BBC going on as if aliens had landed. Have they not seen snow before? Do we need updates every half-an-hour to show that the snow had gone from being 2 inches deep to 2.1 inches deep?

Listen BBC: tell me when someone has been brutally murdered; tell me when some poor soul has suffered due to there being no beds in our hospitals; yes, tell me if my taxes are going up again, but please give me the benefit of the doubt over my intelligence that i can work out for myself how deep my snow is and see that it will be gone by tea time.

Rule of thumb of you, BBC.

Unless the snow is at least a foot deep, it needs to be filed under: not worth mentioning, and stick it in the "not to be mentioned ever again" drawer - together with these topics: The Beckhams, anything to do with Rugby, Celeb's shinanigans, Royalty and Rolling Stones' tours.

If it is a foot or more deep, then just report the facts. We don't need you to hire a helicopter to fly over fields to show us pictures of snow. We can see it.

I'm Dying

2007-02-05T11:15:00.000Z

Well that's a little extreme but you know what i mean.

As a bloke you understand that when we get a cold it actually is not a cold but the flu. Generally known as Manflu, it is much worse than the strain the ladies get -generally known as the sniffles. I know you ladies get a bit exasperated by it all but believe me, it is worse than what you get. Scientifically proved, Manflu is much worse due to the fact that our flu attacks the muscles as well as the sinus. AS you ladies don't have so many muscles, the cold you get only attacks the fatty tissue of the body, and you have much more fat than us.

Anyway, i haven't just got Manflu but i have got Birdflu as well. Even worse than just plain old Manflu, Birdflu has the added complication of actually killing people. All because people in Norfolk sleep with their animals. Yes! In the biblical meaning of the sense. Dirty fuckers.

Now, i haven't slept with a turkey or a woman from Suffolk (much the same thing, really) so i reckon i caught the Birdflu from a Robin in my back garden. He turns up every day to eat my nuts. (No not gonads -proper peanutty type nuts) with a piece of straw in his mouth and a funny accented twirp. Putting 2&2 together, i reckon he's from Suffolk.

If this is correct, i reckon i've just invented a new strain of flu. ManBirdflu. Why? Because, not only having the symptoms on Manflu, i have taken to pecking off the tops of milk bottles and posing for Christmas card photographs. Truely a sign?

Before i die, i'm going to try flying south for the winter. If you see me, wish me a happy birthday; i'm 48 to day.

It's amazing what you find in magazines you read sitting on the toilet.

2007-01-12T11:29:00.000Z

AS the title suggests, i found this little gem of an interview with Pete Townshend ( Neil's real father and spiritual guru)

The interview was in a little-known, local paper who's usual articles are about who has been in court and what the new "out-of-town shopping centre" will mean to YOU, the shopper and YOU, the poor old town butcher who will have to shut. (like i care)

Anyway, they sent their TOP reporter, Dai Ibolical to Richmond, London to interview Mr Townshend during the mid-tour break.

D I. It's been well documented that this is your first album for twenty-four years. Why so long in coming?

P.T. I've been decorating the house. Simple as that, really. I'm a bit of a perfectionist so it's taken that long to get it done; it's a big house. I find that, very much like mixing an album, you have to blend and re-do things to get it just right. I don't know if your readers will know much about the mechanics of drying paint, but if you do it all at the same time it's not a problem; In a house the size of mine that would be impossible and, over a period of weeks/months, it drys at a different rate and the colours are all wrong.

D I. Okay... Thanks for that.

The mini-opera was based on your much-read novella, The Boy Who Heard Music, (TBWHM) which, in turn, was a continuation of your much-talked about, Lifehouse project.
Did the "audience" for TBWHM, the bloggers, help to direct the plot, or was it already finished before it was published?

P T. No, they didn't help. In fact, they just talked crap for the most of it. I mean, i love them dearly. No, love is too strong a word. I respected...I read the comments but to be honest, i would have been better off getting them in to help with the decorating. Only then could i have put the album out sooner. That and having a drummer.

D I. How has Roger taken to the new stuff?

P T. Stuff? Stuff? Stuff is what...stuff is made of. This album goes beyond STUFF!

But to answer your question. He likes some of it. But like when the idea of "Lifehouse" was first delivered to the band he said: " Pete, what the fuck are you on about?" "Just write something i can sing about. Like shagging or sumfink." " I can't do songs about kids finding a bit of A4."
My reaction to that was to say: "NO Rog. fuck you. I'll sing it all myself." So i played and sang it to my partner, Rachel and she said: " Mmmm. I think you should get Rog to sing it after all."
So i told him i had changed a lot and now it was about a bunch of Mods who shag like fuck on a weekend to Margate. All i did was change the running order and he fell for it. Well, he is working class. A good wallpaper hanger, though. I'll give him that.

D I. Is it true that you want to animate the story and that you have plans to tour with cartoon characters?

P T. We are working on a script for an animated story, yes. Not sure about the tour though. I have very clear ideas on how it will run and i want Cartman, Stan and Kyle to play the main characters but they are busy filming and the distance between us - not the age difference or artistic distance, come to that - but the geographical distance. Southpark is like...in America. Not on the north bank of the Thames. Obviously, Kenny will be superfluous to the story so he will be killed of at the beginning in some tragic boating accident.

D I. So what next? Is there another album after the tour?

P T. I have about 300 songs that i wrote during the Christmas break in the tour. All of them are...i don't want to sound too big headed but...fucking brilliant. It's a follow-on of the mini-opera and tells the tale of what happens behind the mirror door. But don't tell Roger that. He thinks it's about Mods going to Southend-on-Sea for an easter punch-up with Rolling Stones fans.

Which reminds me, i have to get Doris Day murdered to make the lyrics work.

We will probably start recording in January next year. The tour finishes in the summer but i have a few thing to do before we record the songs. I have a raised flower bed i want to build in the garden and i need to re-wire the garage electrics. I'm thinking of turning it in to a village post office.

D I. At this point, long term girlfriend, Rachel Fuller came in with a cup of tea and to let Pete know that one of the dogs had chewed some wallpaper off the lounge wall.

P T. I'm sorry, i have to go. Do you know? That wallpaper cost me £7.50 a fucking roll! Had it from B&Q on, "10% 0ff Thurday." I may have to postpone the second leg of the tour to get it sorted. That'll piss Roger off. Fuck 'im. I'll tell him i've written another Tommy and he'll be placated.

Dear Readers. This is a work of fiction. Pete didn't say any of this. I lied. AGAIN! But i'm sure he does shop for wall paper in B&Qs.

Oh Lucky Me.

2006-12-24T13:25:00.000Z

Tis the season to be jolly -again. yeah, right.

Been out shopping with the great un-washed masses; done the xmas parties; sent cards to people i can't remember and wished people i dont normally speak to , "happy xmas blah, blah. "

Delbut was in a sub-normal, pre-xmas house of blues. But news has reached me that sister Faith has said a prayer for me and apparantly, i will be saved at the gates of St Peter, afterall. SO. This means i can carry on being a naughty boy and doing stuff that would make the Pope's legions of choirboy molesters blush and still be forgiven. Bargain.

I bought sister Faith a "Wicked Wabbit" from the Ann Summers on-line store and sent it under brown paper wrap. I knew the authorities would check it out first so, to get it past the mother superior I cunningly disguised it as a gardening tool for planting carrots. For those of you unfamilier with this particular instrument of joy and pleasure, it has a a "double action" use, and mother superior thought it was a labour-saving device for dibbing two holes at once( How right she was), thus saving time spent on said carrot planting. As nuns are inherently lazy, this was good.

The reason for my upturn in everything joyous at yultide was the advanced notice of what sister Faith bought me for xmas. She smuggled out a picture of her wearing my xmas present cleverly hidden in between the pages of the latest " Pews' News." The bi-monthly news letter from the convent.

Apparantly, the nuns are allowed to go into the local town to offer Charity to the locals. Sister Charity was a bit pissed of at this but had no choice in the matter. Next year, they will be offering Hope. She's none too pleased either. (ok, realised i should have said, nun too pleased, but i think i used that joke 3 months' ago.) I digress. It was while Faith was trying to offer Charity to the locals, that she came across a fab little lingerie outlet.

As I am only too pleased to share my good fortune with my blogging buddies, here is what i have to look forward to when i return to the convent in eaarly January. The earlier the better.

It remains for me to thank you all for sharing in this nonsense and making me smile with your readiness to humour me and wish you all a great holiday, and here's to next year.

Love you all.
xxx

Thank you all

2006-12-07T16:33:00.000Z

For your kind messages and concern for my son, Lewis.

I'm not one to leave messages on Rach's blog asking for prayers etc. It works for some but i didn't want/feel the need to do that.

I didn't post what happened here either, much for the same reason, but i left a quick message on Bex's blog becuase, as you know, she pesters me a lot; and told two other people -just because we were talking at the time, really. And what do i get? People coming here to offer me support and others emailing me anyway. For that, i am touched and grateful to you all. You are special.

Anywho. Just to sum up: He got stabbed, went to hospital, had an op and signed himself out on Weds. just like me, he is an impatient, patient.

Apart from extra holes punched in his body, which, by the way, he did not want nor ask for, he is well and i think, coming home to the shithole that is Wales from his even shittier place he calls home, Bristol, tomorrow. He has pictures too!

For Sale

2006-12-02T11:51:00.000Z

One Libertine Jacket. Slightly worn and smells a bit. If this jacket could talk it would have lots of little secrets to give away. Then again, if it could talk, it wouldn't be a jacket really, would it?

Best reason for me giving it to you (and the jacket) wins it for xmas. Please state your case and i will get back to you.

Dearest Delbut

2006-11-14T19:30:00.000Z

Hi Folks. I have been invited to guest as an agony uncle for a local paper. Their normal one has gone missing, suspected to have run off with the sport's editor.

These readers' questions are honest to God REAL questions found in the Boots Health & Beauty magazine.

Q. I love wearing long hair straight, but the combination of daily straightening and cold weather has really dried it out. What can i do?

Martha

Uncle Delbut replies: Martha, What the fuck are you moaning about, woman? There are people sleeping on the streets, freezing their cocks off and you worry about hair?

You have several choices from what i can see.
1) Cut it all off and buy a wig.
2) Get over it and just wear it under a hat.
3) Wash it and when it's still wet, put some cling-film over it and stick your head in the fridge over night. This way your hair will be rigidly straight for up to 4 hours at a time.
4) Buy a pot of shallack and use it as a shampoo. That way you will be able to colour it and make it stay straight all in one go. This is the best solution as it lasts all winter and will keep your head dry when it rains.

Q. Since starting taking the pill, i suffer from vaginal dryness, which makes sex uncomfortable. What can i do to combat this?

Name and address supplied.

Delbut:
This is very common. It happens when you take the pill, have a bacterial imbalance or an infection such as chlamydia or thrush.

Another reason is it may be due to your fella being a fat, ugly twat who just doesn't do it for you. You need to try the following and let me know the outcome.

Stand upside down in the shower while the old man rubs in a vapour rub. It's no use as a lubricant (or is that lubricunt?) but it stings like shit and will kill any germs. Next, watch a Johnny Depp film and if that doesn't work, maybe one with Pamela Anderson because you may have turned into a dyke and blokes just dont do it for you.

If all else fails, study the photo of me (enclosed) and if you dont get soaking wet then, i suggest moving to a deserted island because you have no hope.

Q. It's our 10-month-old daughter's first christmas. Should i puree her a bit of everything that we will be eating for lunch.

Abigale

Delbut:

For the love of sweet Jesus. (appropriate for the topic, me thinks)IT'S A FUCKING BABY. It doesn't know how to not shit itself yet. It has no concept of who the fuck the baby Jesus is. Even if he does exist, which i doubt. It was a story made up by the major retailers of this world to make idiots like you buy their crap. Just give it what you normally do, you cretin. In fact, people like you shouldn't be allowed to have children.

Q. I'm dreading the forthcoming party season, as i'm going through the menopause -hot flushes etc. And the combination of the two don't really mix.

Trish.

Delbut: What? Why dont they mix? It gives you an excuse to be ratty with everyone - including the hostess by passing bitchy remarks about her shoes not matching her frock - and then saying: "it's not my fault, i'm going through the change." Bollocks! I dont believe it exists. It's just a time when you realise you are no longer attractive and cant pull anymore and you want people to notice you. News check, girl. It cuts no ice with me. If you want to turn into a miserable pain in the arse and just hit on your husband because the host hasn't checked out your tits for the last 10 minutes, you need to be honest about it. And anyway, the reason we dont check your tits out anymore is because we no longer know where they are. It takes 11 minutes to realise they have moved south by about 3 feet.

Go to the parties, let your husband ogle the young chick from next door and buy a vibrator.

Well people, what do you think of my first attempt of agony uncle? I think i'm bloody good. To the point, as it were.

At last. A post that i didn't actually make up and what is full of lies.

2006-11-04T18:54:00.000Z

Went to London last weekend. To see The Who, again! This post is not about how fucking brilliant they were; or about the twat who saw fit to create havoc in the crowd by picking on anyone smaller than him or had breasts. News for you dickbrain: you are probably the ugliest, stupidest, numb-nuts that came out of Scotland. And there have been a few.

I digress.

The day before the concert, wifey and I booked into a hotel in poshest Hamstead. To cut a long story short, we arranged to have dinner in the hotel. ( they offered £2 off for guests. not that i'm cheap, or anything)

anyway, it advertised that there would be a choice for starters, which included soup. Nope, no soup that i could find. No problem.

This is where it gets better. The hotel was full of Germans and Dutch tourists - I guess they were tourists. Could have been a circus troupe, i suppose? Who cares - so i guess we were lucky to get a table without having to remove towels from the seats. ( if you have ever been on holiday with Germans, you know what i'm on about.)

Some Germans, thinking they would get what looked like the last of the soup, rushed to the buffet table and helped themselves to ladels full of the stuff.

I started to giggle. I KNEW it wasn't soup. How did i know that? Because 2 minutes earlier i had poured the "soup" all over my beef dinner. IT WAS GRAVY, HANS, NOT SOUP YOU WANKER
Went out to the bar and had a fag -that's a ciggarette, not an uphill gardener - and went to take a piss -(Not in the bar, but in the toilet). There i was, holding what i have in my right hand, trying to piss as high as i could. (we do that) The door opens; i hear voices. One male, one female. Foreign. Dutch. In walks the bloke. I turn slightly; he looks at me and heads for the nearest stall to take a crap. Another body is to my left. It comes in, falters for a second when SHE sees me there. I nod; she comes in. OK, thought i, that's cool. She inhabits the crapper next to the one the bloke is in. They talk -in Dutch - through the stall walls. She is giggling; he is having a crap.

PLOP.
HIM: blah, blah, PLOP
HER: blah, blah, hee, hee
HIM: Nrggh. PLOP.
HER: blah, blah.
ME: Cant a man have a piss in peace?
ME: wee, wee, zip, wash hands. Return to bar.

They're on to me.

2006-10-26T17:10:00.000+01:00

I'm in trouble. I had hoped that Sister Faith would just let sleeping Delbuts lay. Not to be. Seems that once a nun gets the taste for it, she wants more. Without blowing my own trumpet ( tis impossible; i tried. Unless i take a few vertabrae out i'll never be able to bend over that far) I have ruined sister Faith.

Apparantly, she is now so out of control they have banned all phallic-shaped items from the convent and now wash not with soap, but with their own saliva.

As well as Faith phoning from the dorm public phone and getting a private eye on my case, she has enlisted the help of her most trusted confidante. Very-old-sister Hope . Apparantly Hope was betrothed to a Welsh hill farmer ( i think that should be hyphonated. otherwise he farms hills (why didn't i just change it instead of writing about changing it?)) To cut a long story short, David David (Dai twice. (see much earlier blog)) led her down the garden path to get his hands on her father's prize ram. He left her traumatised - if not a little sexually frustrated. She ran away and signed up to the French Foreign Legion -Jesus department. Not even the hoards of vagabonds, rapists and the like, who join the foreign legion, would make a pass at her so she fled again to the convent, where she has been for the last 60 years. Her dislike of the male specie has given her a cause to hunt me down like a dog.

Armed with a pentium iv processor and a 30-day free trial with Yahoo broadband, she keeps an eye on this place just waiting for me to slip up. She gets closer by the minute. My only hope is that the Yahoo broadband works as badly as my BT one and keeps crashing. Here is a picture of her when she mistakenly typed, Del's butt into Google. The result, apparantly, was a host of arse fettish websites.

You may note tht she only has 4 fingers. Her thumb was blown off during the infamous "night of the exploding vicar's trousers" incident in Dol de Bretagne 1974.

Times are hard.

2006-10-21T20:55:00.000+01:00

I was going to blog about me but I got a bit distracted by Bex as she now has broadband again. she keeps pestering me to update this blog. And to think. I missed her dearly when she didn't blog. Anywho, as you may know, she has moved from Staines to "somewhere in the country". Yeah, right. I googled her and came up with her new addy. If you go to her blog you will see that she lives in a shed now. I know times are hard so this is not to ridicule her but to ask you all to chip in for a much needed extension. Due to planning restrictions for development on council-maintained roundabouts, the extension will have to be of a material which fits in with the environment and existing materials. i.e. wood.

I was thinking of at least getting her a bedroom to stick on the side.

anyway, judge for your self. here is Bex's shed from the outside. ( i have airbrushed the roundabout where it's standing to protect her privacy)

KNOCK ON THE DOOR TO ENTER THE SHED

Here is the bedroom extension intended.
SO. If you can spare a few pennies, please send them to me and i will make sure Bex gets somewhere to sleep for the winter.

diolch 'n fawr. (ta muchly)

In The Attic

2006-10-07T15:49:00.000+01:00

Ok Peeps. The Queen of all things musical and jolly needs your support. Our task is to get more people over to her web-site to create an even bigger audience for her top music show, In the Attic.

I know a lot of you who come here watch already but if you are a stranger, welcome and click on the title of this post and watch a recording of ITA. Featureing Pete Townshend, simon Townshend, Mikey Cuthbert and assorted special guests.

The show is a mix of new and old music from Rachel (voice of two angels)Fuller, Pete Townshend/The Who and all the other guests mentioned above.

regular fashion tips (ok, that's for the girlies), jokes, anecdotes and darn outrageous goings' on. Competitions, free tickets to shows and views of Rachel's arse are also an attraction.

If you can imaging "The Osbournes" but with actual talent, then this is ITA

SOON TO APPEAR.... Me.

Please, when you go there, register, and leave comments, don't be boring and just say Oh, Hi. Chat her up, it works. come on, she's a woman. Say anything nice and they are like putty.

Here is a picture of Rach chatting me up in the Bedford Arms, Balham. Pete had gone for a slash (wee wee to the americans) Rach appeared from nowhere with her sister Bex. Menage a trois, was mentioned but i had to turn them down.

CLICK ON RACHEL'S BREASTS TO GO ON A JOURNEY!!

I have had to blank Bex' face out as she is rather shy and i dont have her permission to put it up here. (she NEVER blogs these days. She's moved "UP" in the world).

You may note from the picture that it looks like my right hand down by my side. Not so. It's Bex trying to pull me to her in a, "come on big boy" type of gesture. Dream on, Bex.

Here is another bex classic. this time she is at the bar at the Bedford getting her 7th pint of Stella. "Dutch courage", she said. About 3 minutes before she asked me to marry her.

The moral of this post is that you dont get any of this unless you go to http://www.intheattic.tv

For Sale - God of Rock's Piano.

2006-09-19T17:08:00.000+01:00

Just Click on the picture to enlarge it and read the blurb.

Ha ha. they didn't believe me. It took about 4 hours to cut a hole in Pete's roof and crane this mother out. sailed it down to my house and now it stands under a plastic sheet in the garden. The cat has scraped the leg a bit but it's in good condition. If the God of Rock doesn't come up with the goods, it may well end up as fire wood for my mother. It's enough to keep her and her saw off it as it is.

Faith

2006-09-10T19:16:00.000+01:00

Ladies and Gentlemen. Faith has contacted me. I'm afraid she misses me terribly. It was bound to happen.

Fate has dictated that we can no longer spend a night together, sewing "miracle" badges to our tunics. Just like a boy scout, apprentice vicars get badges for tasks completed. Faith and I would happly sew, badges such as: "turning wine into water";(accomplished by drinking the wine and pissing it out into large vats, "feeding 500 fishes" and "making a virgin pregnant" merit badges to our under-garments. Sadly, the miracle of, "finding a virgin anywhere in the Welsh valleys" was attempted but failed miserably.

Now, just like sister Faith's thighs at bedtime, we are far apart.

Thank you all for your kind comments about my knob and reasons for blindness. Now i am back in wet Wales, the blindness and knob rot seem like a God-given blessing. the birds here are mingers.

verily.

Tonight there's going to be a jailbreak...

2006-09-05T19:16:00.000+01:00

Haha, my special flock of bloggers. I have escaped the hell hole. Many thanks to you all for your words of wisdom & encouragment; your food parcels; your sectret notes smuggled in and your magic props left under trees for my speedy escape. Non of them fucking worked, but thanks all the same. try harder next time, ay?

Now i am back in civilian life i have to have plenty of health check-ups to make sure it's only my mind that is diseased.

My first visit was to the optician. My eyesight has gone a bit fuzzy over the last couple of weeks so a full eye test was in order. Now i know i've been away for a while but i don't remember an eye test included checking for blisters on the palm of your hand. Apparantly, tis true that masturbation makes you go blind. By this time next week - the rate i'm going - i will need glasses like Roy Orbison, a white stick, a Labrador and i will have to glue bits of nose snot to my keyboard so i know which key is which. Currently, i'm thinking of going with a: one snot for q, up to 26 pieces of snot for the m key. I think i'll just guess where the numbers are. They are not so important.

Next week it's to the dentist for a cavity filling exercise (ooer) and the extraction of the microfilm pictures i took in the communal shower. Should keep ebay busy for a while.

I really need to go see the doctor, too but am a bit embarrassed (can never spell that word). Perhaps you all can help: Should my knob really be green?

Although the experience was harrowing, i have not lost Faith. Aw, sister Faith, i miss her already.

By The Way

2006-08-26T21:18:00.000+01:00

All of you lovely people who were thinking of me while i am here in hell-on-earth i have left comments on your comments in my comments for the post before the one below. Now, you would think, as i have so little time to write, i would have made that sentance shorter. You would, wouldn't you?

HELP

2006-08-26T20:37:00.000+01:00

Peeps. Help! I'm writing this by candlelight so the verger doesn't cop on to my surruptitious typing. There's not much of the wick left, though. I think the nuns have been using them for something bordering on pornographic. Can someone write them a letter to say my dog's ill or something? i need to get out of here. they are fucking CRAZEEEEEEEEE.

Ok, i know God was good an and all that and his Son -yeah, the one who got birthed by a woman who never had sex -(OK, don't think we swallowed that one (alough, perhaps her husband did. Stupid twat)) was a bit of a wizard in the getting blokes off their arse and walking again department, but Woahhhh. Hold them donkeys going to Bethlehem and back the Oxen back a bit dude. Why is playig strip-poker with the nunnettes a sin? Jeez.

Back to the letter. Please help me. I can leave of my own volition, but not until i've completed the baptism course. Apparently, just holding the babies by the feet and dipping them in is no longer practised. and i failed it the second time by asking the busty lady to take her top off. If i fail the third time, i have to re-sit the whole thing again.

Please write to:

Father A. Part
Head of training and cleansing of the soul
Church of the early dawn
Rue de B'stard
Gran ville
Brittany
Spears
france

p.s.
Just to let you know so it doesn't get chucked straight in the flames of hell.

They know me not as brother Delbut but, Mathew: verses 13-16.

Ok, must go. Communal shower time.

Love

Delbut
xxx

Yeah, I know, i know.

2006-08-15T17:03:00.000+01:00

Some of you little darlings have dropped enough hints about me updating this piece of worthless crap i call a blog. And i know, i did say i would do it at the weekend. but...

I am emotionally drained and have writer's block and quite frankly, i'm not sure you truely appreciate what i do for you. I mean, do you know how much effort goes into my creative work? no? i'll tell you. Absolutely fuck all and i'm just a lazy bastard.

If you want a chuckle, go and read Neilbymouth's blog and never come here again.

P.S.

Some of you may have read on Rachel's blog that i have enrolled in Vicar school. It's an intensive 6 week course (1 day a week). I am off to France shortly to live with a bunch of like-minded souls - in brown dresses that chaff your knob - to spend some quality time before we become practicing paedos..i mean Bishops. I will update you on my new vocation as soon as i get clearance from the Pope.

Summer time, and the living is easy.

2006-07-27T16:27:00.000+01:00

We have been having a hot and sticky summer here, so far. The type of weather that makes you wish you were beside a pool in Spain or somewhere.

Sadly, i had no swimming pool to hand the other day when feeling frisky and ready to party. The family had gone out somewhere so i decided i would invite all the neighbours in for a BBQ and party. After quickly designing and building a pool in the garden, i lit the BBQ and eagerly awaited the neighbours turning up. Unfortunately, most of them were away at work and only the women were available except for gay bloke who lives in my attic. Oh well, said i, life's a bitch but we must carry on. So, with just half the expected guests here, we tried to enjoy ourselves.

I of course, was the centre of attention and kept the girls entertained with jokes and impressions of famous, 19th c. authors. How how we laughed.

Gay bloke seemed content waiting for me in the pool while the girls assumed the position and limbered up.

Later, when Gay bloke had returned to my attic to catch some Zzzz and clip his nose hair, i danced around the pool reciting the lyrics of Quadrophenia while the girls chilled around the pool.

After many beers, the girls started getting bitchy and really competitive to get my attention. There is nothing sexy about girls doing tummy-tucks in bikinis so i called a halt to the party, dug up the pool and filled in the hole so the wife wouldm't notice and went down the pub to meet the lads. What a great end to a trial of a day.

I'm back. i've been on tour with The Who

2006-07-08T11:06:00.000+01:00

Ok, so not actually WITH them, but i went to several Who gigs over the last couple of weeks and where possible, i have taken some photos. It's been a gruelling schedule of long moterway trips and hotel rooms, oh, and trying to survive encounters with scallys in Liverpool. ( i think i just about managed to get out unscathed from that shithole of a city.)

I found it a bit difficult to keep the likes of Roger Daltrey and Pete townshend from bothering me but i eventually gave in to contant nagging for a photo session with Rog. He's a nice guy but he just will not take no for an answer. So much so, he did actually tell me to go fuck myself when i teased him about forgetting the words to "Who Are You" at Brighton but i forgave him.

Pete was introduced to me at Beaulieu but he didn't ask to have a photo taken; i think Roger had warned him of me. At Liverpool, i had to shield myself from Pete with my bodyguards and when Roger stopped in his car on the way home to offer me a lift, i again had to push some people in front of me and i politely declined -offering them as an excuse. My personal assistant, Elena, had a polite word in his ear and sent him on his way. Ta Elena.

Apart from all that trauma, the Who kicked fucking arse; especially the first night at Liverpool. Casbah Club were supurb, too.

On the downside, Mikey Cuthbert stood me up for a lunch date with a lame excuse.But he is a superstar so i forgive him.

My mates keep Pete at a distance.

Rog waits in the queue to meet me

He gets his wish.

On the right, Elena is telling to stop stalking me as he writes his hotel address down for me.

Some pics from Liverpool 2nd night.

Ok, i'm bored now and i think Rog is knocking on my front door again. Must go and hide.

I have a badge and a lighter. NA NA NA NA NA

2006-06-30T15:19:00.000+01:00

Went to see The Who on Wednesday. Fucking brilliant show.

Anyway, just because i can, i will now brag that i am the owner of not only an ITA badge, but an ITA lighter too. All thanks to Mikey Cuthbert of ITA fame. Cheers Mikey, yopu are a good man.

For those visitors here who haven't got a clue what i'm on about (Andy for one) get over it, i'm not explaining here.

Why the fuck the photo has turned on it's side, i have no idea. Mmm.

.

New Blogger

2006-06-24T19:25:00.000+01:00

It seems i have turned someone on to blogging. At my age, it's good to be able to turn someone on but not in this way. These days the only thing i can turn on is a tap. Ah well, i have my memories.

Any way Andy is a fellow Welshman and plays guitar in my band. Actually, i play drums in his.

you will see when you go there that Andy is a 38-year-old bachelor. Work it out for your self!

Andy's bolg is http://andyfromspiny.blogspot.com/

Word of warning Andy: If you steal all my blogging friends i will do a drum roll all over you best guitar bits.

Life sucks

2006-06-23T21:03:00.000+01:00

I was going to get back to blogging this weekend, but with my blogging buddy Neil's tragic news, it just doesn't seem right. I will leave it for another time.

Good luck Neil

Further adventures of Spiffey -Lazy bastard cat

2006-06-04T19:38:00.000+01:00

It seems my description of Spiffey as a lazy bastard was hasty and completely wrong.

On trips back-and-fro to my shed, i noticed a number of my tools going astray and then returned only to be put back in the wrong place. (i'm not anal about where my tools are stored, but i did notice the difference)

My pile of wood i was saving to whittle into a Rickenbacker guitar (with flight case) had also dwindled to a few off-cuts.

Thinking i was going mad, i left to go to work and on my return what do i find? Spiffey had knocked up a scaled replica of Sing-Sing prison complete with electrified fences.

In cell no 7, there was the biggest fucking rabbit i had ever seen. "The gang" (see earlier post) had kidnapped the thing and were holding it to ransom for various tinned food items.

Little did they know that Tommy the dog was sent in by the police to instigate a break out. The plan was to tunnel under the perimeter fence and drag the rabbit to safety. Trouble is; the dog's sense of direction isn't that good and instead of a tunnel, he dug a trench - thus blowing his cover. If you add the attraction of a full cup of sweetened tea into the bargain, his internal compass went haywire.

Result - Rabbit is still banged up; the cat's demands have extended to include bottles of strawberry milkshake; I had to make another cup of tea and i now have a trench the size of the San Andreas fault line in my back garden.

All in all, a right old to-do.

The Rabbit is staked out to the floor in the searing heat.

Tommy starts to go adrift in his quest

He gives up and has it away with my tea

I'm left with a, not too pretty garden feature.

Don't you just hate it?

2006-05-13T18:58:00.000+01:00

Today was the F.A. Cup final. To my friends acress the pond, this is the equivalent of the Superbowl, Stanley Cup and World series of Baseball -all rolled into one. My team, West Ham, lost to the scallys of Liverpool in a fucking marvellously entertaining game. I should be suicidal now but i'm not. Jus proud of my boys.

Normal stupidness will resume on this blog as soon as i can think of something worthy.

I am currently writing some stand-up routines for my new double act with Neilbymouth. Struggleing a bit to write something that will pass muster with Neil's exacting standards of funnyness. Anyone out there want to earn some money writing jokes?

Rachel Fuller tribute Band

2006-05-08T16:50:00.000+01:00

Some of you may know that I play drums in a covers band, Spiny Norman. I am worldly reknown as "The powerhouse and smoke machine impersonator."

This is a cowardly way of saying i've handed in my resignation but...

I am in the process of getting together some "artists" to create a wonderful tribute to rock goddess, Rachel Fuller.

I'm still working on a name, which once seen or heard, will automatically conjure up Rach.Here are some I have already disregarded.

The Fool Hers -too boring.
The Full Whores -too...whatever.

I finally plumped for. The Fuller Shits. I cannot claim intellectual rights to this name as BEX. Yes, that one, gave me the name.

In fact, Bex was "very up" for being a part of the band. Not being a singer, she has been offered a "dancing" part and maker of all things merchandise. She is reading the contract as we speak. Other bloggers. Namely, Koos, Molly, Ben, Ranceman, KidRic,Elena et al will be contacted shortly to audition for stand-ins if anyone drops out. (Usual terms and conditions apply.)

Here is a photo of the original band. L-R. Guitar man, Rach, Drummer, Stu the bassist.

I have undertaken exhaustive auditions to find the right people. Not only sound-alikes, but lookalikies, too.

As drummer I will take the throne to be the beatmeister.

On Bass guitar I have Brian. Brian is a full-time Stan Laurel look-alike. As his photo below shows, he looks exactly like Stan Laurel and quite a bit like Stu, the Bass player.

On Guitar I have recruited a character from the Hair Bear bunch. Since the program finished in the 70's, he has struggled to find work and is only too willing to join the band. His fingering of chords, due to the fact that he is a heavy carnivorous quadruped, is very unique and needs seeing to believe.

Finally, the main ingredient. Rachel. I personally interviewed, auditioned, interrogated about 12 candidates for this post. I even contacted neilbymouth (legend of stalking) to see if he had any ideas (he did but I will keep them secret here.)

For some reason my attempts at familiarity did not strike a chord with the mainly 20-25 year-old ladies but that's another story.

Anywho. I finally came up with Trevor. Trevor is a 50 -yer-old, care-in-the-community, trans-sexual recluse. I have managed, with much tuition, to educate him in the "sound" of Rachel and he now manages a good middle C. However, we are still having issues with his dress sense. Far from getting his gear from "Le Attique" Trevor is more your Oxfam charity shop type.

Not really an issue when sitting at the piano except for he needs to rethink the sheerness of the stockings as the hairs on his legs poke through and is not good for publicity shots.

Here is Trevor.

I have purchased an old Ambulance from St John's and have had a quote for painting it pink and installing a Hi-FI system and Karaoke machine. Our first gig is penciled in for Richmond old peoples' home in June. From then we intend do a "Your going home in a fucking Ambulance" tour, which will follow Rachel, following The Who. Guests lined up so far...My mum.

People who want to look like me!!

2006-05-08T15:22:00.000+01:00

I found this site thanks to Tausha's blog. What fun.

I knew i was famous but i didn't know that so many celebs wanted to look like me.

click on this link to find out who are passing themselves off as a 47 year-old surveyor from Wales.

It starts with the closest lookalikey but you can scroll thrugh several others.

Ok, i'm off for a face lift, smell you later. (I have some exciting news about a Rachel Fuller tribute band on the way. have to get some legal advice first!)

here

Heaven

2006-04-25T12:55:00.000+01:00

Just a short one. (two in one day is pushing it a bit)

No word of a lie but there is a nasal spray -PT.141 -which has been developed, which is like Viagra, but for women. Apparantly, it stimulates the women and gets them, UP FOR IT!!!!

I know a bloke who lives down the road and he is a bit of a chemist. (He has his own drug factory) I will now be working very closely with him to turn the afformentioned spray into an aftershave. This is going to be dynamite.

Now go and read the cat one, below.

Lazy Bastard

2006-04-25T10:37:00.000+01:00

My cat, Spiffey has become such a lazy pussy, that she expects me to push her around on this thing. The skateboard, usually used as prosthetic for my disability of one leg shorter than the other two, has been snatched off me by her and the rest of the "gang". The "gang" consists of two, like-minded moggies -both of whom are reaching pensionable age - a badger, a chicken and a ferret called Dunbar.

I know for a fact that the only reason that the chicken is in the gang is for foodstuff. They are feeding her up and getting her fit so at a later date they will pounce. Those guys are heartless.

Anyway, once the prey has been identified -usually little cute field mice or a mole or two - Spiffey expects me to push her around the garden chasing after them. It's ok down hill but at my age, the uphill pushing (ooer) is a bit of a struggle.

I have spent time designing an engine to put on the back from Baked Bean tins, a small fan and a vibrator i found in the local park but the cat can't afford the petrol to run it and someone left me a note saying they needed the vibrator back. (It was unsigned but it looks like my mum's writing.)

I am now designing a cradle to put around Tommy-the-dog's neck so he can pull her. It will make a nice change to see the cat's nose in the dog's arse, for a change.

Anyway, have to go because she just walked in and is rubbing against my leg. That's normally a sign she wants feeding. Why my wife just cant ask like a normal person, i don't know.

More photos

2006-04-03T14:16:00.000+01:00

Who Convention 2006

2006-04-02T21:08:00.000+01:00

Went to the Who convention yesterday. Must say it was a bloody good event. "Conventions" are usually looked upon as a saddo event where people dress up in Star Trek outfits or Dr Who alien costumes. I normally wouldn't be seen dead at such a waste of human effort. Not so the Who convention. OK, there were a few people there who could bore the prick of a well-endowed donkey, but in the main it was a good day out. There were two tribute bands (of whom it could be said that they indeed dress up in Who outfits a la Trekkies -but i will forgive them for that)who (pun intended) did a stirling job in front of a not overly enthusiastic crowd to start. Highlight for me were The Casbah Club. Simon, Mark and Bruce played a stunning set of new and not-so-new Simon Townshend material.

Biggest downer of the day was the price of beer. Â£3 for a can of Guinness!

Biggest upper of the day was the surprise guest. Roger fucking Daltrey himself.
Even though he has been busy with a week's events at the Albert Hall for the Teenage Cancer Trust and last night was the final night, Roger, the biggest Who fan around, still found time to come in and say hello. He also, after badgering from us, sang two songs with Simon. Off the cuff (and incomplete) they may have been but it shows what a diamond geezer he is. To travelacrosss London at that time of day just to show his appreciation for us just demonstrates what a great guy he is.

Nuff arse licking.

Had to leave before the end because i was effing starving so went and had the spiciest chicken in the world. My arse is now paying the price. (that may be the Guinness, come to think of it.

Evidence of which is below. Not my arse -me drinking Guinness

Funny how you never see....

2006-03-24T16:06:00.000Z

Judy Finnegan and South Park's Tweek in the same room.

Judy Finnegan is one half of Richard and Judy. This is a daytime, magazine type program on Channel 4 here in the U.K. They are probably the most idiotic, sycophantic, schmoozy, ill-educated, amateurs on T.V.

Constantly bickering with each other, (they are married to each other) Richard seems to spend the days with his bollocks in her handbag; and Judy has her brain in her bra.

Richard is the type of dickhead that, along with Ben Elton, supports the feminists' view of "all men are twats" and that they have had a raw deal. Listen Richard, we get enough gobbiness from the females; they don't need your help. (this is a whole new future blog, me thinks)

Anyway, back to the hapless Judy.

I rest my case.

Can i have the scissors when you're finished? I want to slit my throat

2006-03-16T13:46:00.000Z

Went to Wotton Bassett, Wiltshire, today. I did my business by 13:30 and, as you do, went to get my hair cut.
I had to wait for 20 minutes and listen to inane gossip between the teenage “stylist” and her equally spotty, track suited, teenage victim:

“He didn’t, did he?”
“He did. And then wiped it on the on table clothe.”
“Never –no way?”
“Way”

Seeking refuge in a glossy gossip magazine –which took precisely 30 seconds cover to cover- my turn arrived.

I sit in the seat in front of a very large, very harsh mirror.

“What do you want?”
I was tempted to ask for a loaf of bread and a pound of grapes, but considered it would go straight over her, bleach-blonde head. I settled for: “Hair cut.”, which went the way I thought the bread and grape comment would.
After several instructions she seemed to get the idea that as long as my hair was shorter on the way out than it was on the way in I would be well happy.

10 minutes’ of deafening silence, except for the click-click of scissors and her sniffing, later ( I decided not to push the idea of talking about: the weather, holidays, work etc.) she snipped her way to a half-decent job.

The obligatory offering-up of the mirror to the back of the head followed and confirmed that, beyond my wishful thinking; my bald patch had not miraculously “healed” itself.

Little did I know that the most humiliating part of the experience was to come, I got up and went to the desk to pay her.

“How much do I owe you?” (And don’t bother adding a tip)
“ Are you retired?”
“WHAT!!!???”
“You get a discount if you are: retired, pregnant or in the armed forces.”

Internally, my voice said: “Which side of your face wants slapping?”
In reality I said: “I’m not retired yet but my SAS death grip will finish you in flash. Do I get a discount for that?”
Guess what? Yup. Went straight over her bleach-blonde, spotty, uneducated neck plug.

Retired?! I know the lord has given me a few wrinkles but they are laughter lines, not an age thing. Honest.

If your name's not on the list, you're not coming in.

2006-02-27T13:04:00.000Z

Delbut, Chris & Gary. The Red Cross' finest.

As we are so badly paid working for a major, world-wide charity, the Property department's building surveyors have taken to moonlighting as "Event security" in the evenings and weekends to support their poor, poverty stricken families.

We are trained in the following:

Manning the doors. - We don't do front doors, just back doors.

Handing out ticket stubs so you can leave your coat in the lobby. -We don't actually take the coats, just hand out the tickets. The coats will be handled by our specially trained "coat operatives"

Having curly wires stuffed in our ears, giving the impression we are in contact with an anonimous "head of security" (that will be George, who is not in this picture as he had to go somewhere with his wife. The poof)- Actually, we use Ipod earpieces (in Chris's case, the earpiece is his deafaid coz he's old and decrepit.)

Customer care. - We have modified our invoice authorisation stamps and will stamp all your guests on the forehead for ease of recognition. For regular patrons, we can organise an indelible stamp -probably a tattoo.

Standing at the bar looking hard and talking into our sleeve cuff.

Locking up after everyone has gone home.

And, as we are building surveyors, we can leave a list of all the damage caused to your venue following the event. I.e. blocked drains due to fag-butts down the urinals (mostly by me); holes in the wall where we have had to put someone's head through it.

Events covered:

Weddings, Bithday parties (up to the age of 14 or those from 65 onward -nothing in between), Christenings, Pub quizes, B-B-Q's,garden parties, village fetes and our speciality, shop openings.

It's that time again

2006-02-24T10:34:00.000Z

The Who are on tour. Yippee. Tickets are expensive. Booo.I have to re-mortgage the house and put the kids into service with the local pimp to pay for the fucking things. That's if you can get them in the first place. No sooner have Ticketbastard.co.uk sold out, scalpers on ebay are offering them at extortionate prices. How the promoters allow this is beyond me.

Take a leaf out of Robbie Williams' book and make them available through The Who's site and get people's names typed on the ticket to stop this.

Anyway, as stupid as i am, i will be going to Liverpool and Bristol to see them and now have to earn some money to pay for it.

Disregarding the kids being available ( i think that's illegal) I will now be offering my body for the following.

* Sex -any blind person needing a shag -i'm ready. Or if needed for a S&M club i could bring the drinks around in PVC hot pants.
* Science - any doctor needing a body part for an up-and-coming transplant leave a message but keep in mind the following caveats.

Lungs -slightly tarnished with smoke.
Liver -still slightly tipsy due to Guinness -should dry out within a week.
Bladder- works ok but a bit full as I type this. Wait a minute...Ok, empty now.
Brain - I have one of sorts but I suggest not giving it to another scientist or similar academic.
Heart- Yes I have one but it belongs to someone else. (throws up in nearest bucket at the sentimentality)
Penis - This must go to someone/something really deserving. I.e. elephant, retiring racehorse, porn star etc. It would be a waste on anything else. (if anyone i know reads this they will not recognise the above description)

* Museum - Welsh museum of natural life, if you are interested, i can stand still for long periods and not smile when children poke me. (even without a stick up my arse)

So, you lucky people, give me a shout and grab what you want while it still functions.

Then again, i could always advertise on Ebay.

St Dwynwen

2006-02-14T17:55:00.000Z

It's valentine's day today. In Wales we also have our own version: St Dwynwen's Day.(26th January) She is the patron Saint of Luurve.

Instead of giving cards,flowers,chocolates,blowjobs etc., to celebrate we have certain courting rituals, which are centuries old.

The women must (in order to demonstrate their feelings for us men):

Ride a donkey naked accross the village green -backwards- while singing, "Does my Ass look big in this?" (popular Welsh folk song c.1205 (that's a date, not the time))

Once the Donkey has tired, the lady has to milk it and offer the proceeds to her lover's nephew's uncle. If he chooses not to slurp from the bucket of love, then her advance can not...advance any further without the intervention of the courts.

If he does partake in the creamy libation then she can then dance the dance of the merry virgin, the steps of which are closely watched. This is because if the lady isn't a virgin then it will be possible to tell so from the movement in her hips. One wrong move and it's all over.

The men, on the other hand, have to demonstrate his intentions by putting Daffodils in every orifice, wrapping himself in the leaf of the leak and tying it with baling twine. He is then delivered by horse and trap to the rear entrance of her mother's house and once unwrapped, dangling his knob out while jumping on one leg.

I don't know the outcome if this doesn't work as there are no recorded failiures! Come on, how could you girlies refuse that?

Anyway, here is a picture of St Dwynwen. Obviously, she is still able to dance the dance of the virgin; who'd give that one?

Tagged

2006-02-05T16:41:00.000Z

Molly, love her sweet heart, "tagged" me the other day. This means that you have to list 5 interesting "facts" about yourself. I know it's not law but i thought i'd join in anyway.

1) Up until the age of 16, i had an imaginary dog called Fido. Fido came with me everywhere -including school. Fido tended to get me in trouble but i managed to fool some of the more... stupid teachers into believing that Fido was real. I would bark, open the door, and let Fido out of the classroom at regular intervals. Some of the teachers would open the door to see where the dog had gone. D'oh.
When i was about 7, we were on our way on holiday when i made my Dad stop, open the door of the car, and let Fido in because i had forgotton him.

2) I had the chance of a promising career as a professional football player. Playing in the local league, i was "spotted" by a scout from Cardiff City and asked for trials. Long story short, i didn't go because i was on holiday. Reality is, i had found cigarettes, drink, and shagging. I was also hanicapped with a burst eardrum from a smack around the head from my Maths teacher "Killer" Curtis. No doubt i was being cheeky but i have always blamed it on Fido. That fucking dog.

3)I once kissed a bloke -tongues and everything. In my defence, i did know the bloke and we are still good friends. Some of you more broadminded people out there will say, that's cool, being gay is ok. If only it was like that. The reason we did it was we tried to get two girls to kiss and they said, only if you do first. Being rather perverted and pissed, we agreed. Needless to say, they didn't keep their side of the bargain.

4)When on a drinking binge in Swansea one night. Our minibus had left without me and my mate. (the one mentioned above) While we were working out how to get home (some 20 miles away) i was caught short in the toilet department. Not a wee wee but a dump. (english vernacular for shit). Anyway, no public toilets available but plenty of boats in the harbour. I climbed aboard and did the business over the side. In the meantime my mate had gone walkabout, found a wallet with £30 in it.

So two apologies. If you returned to your boat one morning only to find your flag was used as toilet paper; or if you lost a wallet and £30 -sorry.

5) It's my birthday today and i'm 47. I hate having birthdays apart from the pressies and getting spoilt.My brain feels 27, but my body feels 57. I have one shaved leg, a bald patch (not a big one though)dodgy knees, i smoke too much and don't drink enough. I have good friends, a great family and life at the moment is good.

Sorry for the boring facts but i did warn people that i'm not that interesting.

Wales in the Thames?? eh,eh.

2006-01-26T15:00:00.000Z

You may have heard about Wales in the Thames.

The canny Welsh people managed to pass this off as a stray Whale in the Thames. Tom Jones, sometime crooner and sometime Welsh activist, dressed up in a rubber suit in order to get the press hoodwinked into thinking that a large mammal had found its way up the river.

While he was doing this, Shirley Bassey managed to beach her self alongside the embankment in readiness to invade the English capital. The Paddington area of London has long been a stronghold of the displaced Taffy. MI6 have been monitoring the movements of the Paddington dwellers, which made it hard for them to spread the word outside this district. The M4 –Wales’ own foreign security force – hatched the plan to invade from without, rather than within, with great success. Not since we beat the English football team 4-1 in 1980 has the word Wales been on everyone’s lips so often.

So what of the future?

Now Shirley has infiltrated large parts of Twickenham and Richmond, and Tom has been released from the custody of London Zoo aquarium, the further invasion will start in earnest in February. Disguised as the Welsh rugby squad, a crack team of Welsh fusiliers will storm Twickenham stadium - backed up by foraging agents wearing daffodils and large leeks pretending to be rugby supporters on a piss-up – and kidnap Ken Livingstone, Mayor of London.

The demands?

More Caerphilly cheese on the shelves of Fortnum & Mason

A stop on us having to pay a toll on the Severn crossing to get back in to Wales

Laws passed to make it illegal for English men to say: “There’s lovely” –when stereotyping the Welsh accent –and sounding like a Pakistani in doing so.

They must find room for the city of Newport somewhere east of London so it’s further away from us here in Wales –we don’t want them anymore.

£120 in unmarked fivers.

I will be back

2006-01-25T10:11:00.000Z

i haven't posted here for a while. things have been so hectic. A bit of family trauma and a Panto to rehearse for.

I am sorting out the sound system and taking the role of Long John Silver. I first thought that i was asked to play the part of Long John for Freudian reasons but...alas no.

I will be back to regular blogging very shortly.

My Mum is mental

2005-12-26T19:05:00.000Z

Christmas day is over and today is Boxing day. If my Dad was still alive he would have been 80 today so my thoughts are with him. He died 4 days into the new millennium following a stroke on New Year's day, 2000.

That's the maudlin bit over.

My Mum, Marj, who lives next door to me with my Sister and Nephew, is 76 in January and she is a nutter. Not in a medically recognised way but you know what i mean.

I took these photo's today because they bring to mind what my Father had to go through on a daily basis living with Marj.

Marj likes nothing better than to potter in the garden or take a saw to things -even better if she can take a saw to things in the garden. You can often find her trundling down the garden path -tooled up- to cut things in half.

To my Dad's chagrin she would also enjoy sawing things in the house -not take things into the house and saw them to bits - but saw things that belonged in the house.

If the table in the kitchen rocked a little she would not prop something under the one leg, oh no, she would saw the other 3 legs instead.

Dad had gone out instead of mowing the lawns. This made Marj mad and when Marj is mad out comes the saw.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, my Dad expected the bed to be in tact when he came home and instead, it was about a foot lower and as he went to get in, it wasn't where he expected it to be and promptly fell in, rather than slink in.
"Tell me it's lower because you just took one mattress off and we can make it better in the morning", he said.
"Ah", she replied.
"You sawed the legs off, didn't you?" , he said.
"Yup", she said.

Happy xmas to all my readers

2005-12-24T20:06:00.000Z

Not blogged for a while and had hoped for something a tad more interesting/funny to post but that will have to wait til next time.

So you'll have to do with a simple xmas message.

I hope you all have a good Christmas but if you don't subscribe to that -for any reason - then enjoy the holiday and let those of us who subscribe to the overly-hyped bullshit do so, and let us enjoy calling it Christmas too and not some insidious P.C. alternative.

I promised Molly i would put up a photo of the tree so here it is.
In the top one, you can just about make out Alice in her ballet gear in the photo on the wall.

The other photo is of : Alice, my wife Sarah and Rosie.

It's not every day...

2005-12-14T19:42:00.000Z

It's not every day you get overtaken by two loaves of bread when driving on the M4. But yesterday was my day.

There I was trundling along the outside lane of the M4 just outside Bristol when the car in front broke down. I stopped and waited to get in the middle lane when all of a sudden, two loaves of bread went past. I kid you not. A blue loaf of bread and a red loaf of bread doing about 60 mph.

Like any other normal person would at 8:30 in the morning, I put it down to tiredness and old age and made a mental note to revisit the optician.

Lo and behold, when my lane got moving again, I passed them; only this time the red one was in front.

The "loaves of bread" were in fact VW camper-style vans done up complete with idiotic looking people driving them.

So I checked -as you do -their web site. Look what I found. If nothing else, I can now postpone the trip to the head doctor. Turns out you can win a chance to drive one. Yeah, right. I'd rather stick a banjo up my arse - round end first.

Oh, before I forget. You tossers out there who work for the Highways department. It took me 4 fucking hours to get to west London yesterday instead of the normal 2 1/2 .

This is because you idiots have collected the most cones you can find and arbitrarily put them along the hard shoulder for as many miles as you can, thus slowing the traffic down to a crawl along most of the 150 mile stretch. And why? So you can carry out work to put up driver information boards, which will tell us there are delays due to slow-moving traffic! How Englishly ironic is that?

When the work is done, we can now be happy in the knowledge that we are not moving anywhere because it will be written on a board the size of Kent. I have news for you: WE ALREADY KNOW WE ARE NOT MOVING -Arse Wipes. If you have our interests at heart, put a movie on the fucking things and turn the M4 into a drive-in movie carpark; I could have watched the Lord of The Ring trilogy the time I spent in the carpark yesterday.

P.S.

If you do turn it into a drive-in, can we have some large-breasted women offering snacks at frequent intervals, please?

Oh Crap

2005-12-07T15:39:00.000Z

You'll have to forgive the last blog, not exactly a professional lay out of photo's ay?

Basement Jam

2005-12-07T15:12:00.000Z

Elena Perez kindly sent me these photos all the way from Madrid, Spain. Elena has not got a blog but wanted to share these with you.

BTW Elena is the one in the photo with Simon.

Thanks Elena.

I Hate London Rant.

2005-12-02T17:50:00.000Z

Nah, not really; London is an o.k. place, it's just the taxi drivers who are wankers.

We now have 24 hour opening in some pubs in the U.K. but do you think i could find one in London on Wednesday? Correct -no. So after being forced to leave the pub at 11pm, we tried flagging a taxi down to take us into Soho. There's more chance me growing breasts.

So to all you taxi drivers in London land, the home of people who don't speak to each other, fuck you, i went home not pissed(drunk) enough thanks to you.

The ever-evolving sheep.

2005-11-28T16:36:00.000Z

It is a little known fact that sheep are very intelligent. Although there are many different breeds, the Welsh version is probably the cleverest. I kid you not. (that's an unintended Goat pun there)

In terms of culture etc., you can split Wales, and its sheep, into the North and South variety.

In the north, they have proper mountain ranges. E.G. Snowdonia. In the south we have "mountains". When you consider that we call a small hump in a field a hill, you can imagine what we call mountains.

I digress.

Based on the above terrain, our sheep have evolved differently, but very, very ingeniously. I will tell you about the southern sheep as they are the ones I know best. (not in a biblical way tho)

Thousands of years ago, before the invasion of Anglo Saxons and Romans, sheep were happy grazing on the flatlands of the Vale of Glamorgan and other such places. Due to the ever-expanding population of our fair country the sheep were pushed up to the hilly places where man was less prevalent. Trouble was, sheep weren't much good on the slopes. If they pointed directly down the hill, all the blood would rush to their heads causing them to pass out. If they pointed directly up the hill men of questionable sexual preference would creep up on them and have their wicked way.
To combat this the sheep, en mass, decided that the desired stance was across the slope, thus canceling out the previous risks.

This brought a further problem: Standing sideways meant that they were leaning slightly and, in high winds, they would fall over.

Mother nature took over and sheep, through natural evolution, developed shorter legs on one side of their body; some left-handed, some right. You may think I'm kidding (another goat pun) but this has been scientifically proved. Although early scientists thought that the sheep just dug holes to put their legs in, work by the Welsh Naturalist, David David (or Dai twice as he was known), made them a laughing stock. "It was simple", he said, "how can sheep dig holes?, they can't hold a shovel!" subsequent measuring of the sheep has indeed shown that the legs are different lengths.

The only thing I know about north Wales sheep is that, due to the extent of rainfall, they have webbed feet at the end of their differently sized legs. Of course, it goes without saying (but I will anyway), that the extent of the differing leg size is more pronounced in the north due to the steeper slope.

Here is a picture of Dai Twice measuring a sheep. This is a right-handed sheep. Note that the sheep's front left and rear left legs are bent at the knee. This is because it is standing on level ground and must compensate for the shorter right legs. You will also note that Dai's wearing a small tractor tyre on his head. This helps when the male sheep want to head-butt him when he's trying to "milk" them.

A Hermaphrodite Snow Sculpture

2005-11-25T16:13:00.000Z

It started snowing here about 12pm last night. By the time I got up we had about 4" of snow. (That's 10cm in foreign language)

For those of you who don't know how it works over here, we haven't had much snow in the last 10 years' or so. When it comes it's a big deal. Everyone goes to Tesco's and buys the whole effing place. People with trolleys full of bread, milk and anything else not nailed down, batter the crap out of each other to get back to their cars before it even starts snowing.

Why?

Because at the merest hint of a snowdrop, the roads get blocked. Our infrastructure here relies on under-funded local councils gritting the road. They do their best, love them, but it's crap.

For the love of God how do you manage in Canada? If the brits still ran it you would be shut for half of the year.

K, rant over. The upside of the snow is that it looks so Goddamn pretty. I took some photos this morning. The scenic one looks over my back garden toward the north Devon/Somerset coast line. (usually visible on a clear day).

The next is of Tommy. He is standing still trying to camouflage himself so he doesn't have to go for a walk. (You are white, Tommy, but not that white, dude.)

The last photo is my snow sculpture. To be politically correct (and the aforementioned council are trying to ban the word Christmas for the offence it causes) we can no longer build snowmen. No, it excludes snow-women. So to keep it equal I built a hermaphrodite one. It has tits and a knob too!. Classic.

A mad American and equally mad Brit.

2005-11-20T17:25:00.000Z

I had the pleasure of going to what turned out to be one of the best Who gigs in recent years.

It was in Watford 2002. The ticket says row LL seat 26. Yeah, right. I don't sit down and i don't do the back of the hall at Who gigs. I have truly turned getting up the front into an art form. This time i spotted Billy Nicholls sitting on the end of a row nearer the front and talked to him until the lights went down. Then made a b-line for the front.

I also had the pleasure of downing a few beers with other Who fans. This picture was taken pre-show and is of: me (showing a few too many pounds and quaffing a girlie drink), John Petheruer -a nutter from the Midlands and Magik - another nutter but from the U.S.A. Magik is a bit of legend in some Who circles and was famously caught on film (Boston??) being told by Pete Townshend to shut the fuck up! Good work fella.

Anyway, the Who were so hot at this gig. They even played "Young man blues", which kicked arse.

Anyway on a shallow note: have lost some of the beer gut now but lost more hair. Hey ho old age don't come on its own ay?

My studio!

2005-11-15T17:01:00.000Z

I watched a short film made by Pete Townshend yesterday; he took us on a tour of his home studio. Ha, I thought. I have one too!

Trouble is, compared to his, mine is a bit of a joke. No, a really big joke with the bestest, funniest punch-line in the world.

I know I don't have his money (I don't have any money, it's borrowed) so I guess it can't be expected ay?

Anyway, I have a Spirit SX mixing desk powered by a 100watt Yamaha amp and Tannoy Reveal, passive speakers.

The small gray unit is an 8 track Tascam DP-01FX. I cant make up my mind whether to use this or Cubasis, which I have on my PC so I tend to alternate between the two. I also have Fruity Loops on the PC, which I use for drum loops etc and other weird sounds.

I have 3 mics of varying ability and I recently bought an AP audio condensing mic. I never heard of it but the guy in the shop said they were very good -especially at the price and I have to agree. Not a Rode or AKG but it has a great sound and is not overly sensitive. Great for recording the ambient drum sounds.

My other kit comprises of: An EKO acoustic guitar, which I've had for 28 years, a Washburn, Les Paul copy (hanging on the wall), a Yamaha SY35 keyboard and a Tama Rockstar drum kit.

Oh, hours of fun can be had with this lot. If only I had someone to show me how to put it all together.

Pete Townshend, eat your heart out loser.

P.S. The photograph on the wall to the left of the PC is unique. It is of Roger Daltrey at the NEC, Birmingham, '89 during the Tommy tour. I took it myself but the flash didn't work, which in the end worked out better. The two white dots on the picture are used PT plectrums. oh, the crap i keep.

I hate Rugby

2005-11-05T18:44:00.000Z

For those of you uninitiated people, the UK is basically four countries united by hundreds of years' of infighting. (Scotland, England, Wales and Northern Ireland)

People claim -although some historians disagree- that the Welsh are the indigenous people of this land; akin to the American Indians and Australian Aborigine.
To be frank, I couldn't care less if we are, or are not. What I do care about is that I was born, bred and live to this day in Wales. I speak the lingo a bit, but I'm not fluent.

It has long been held (mostly by the Welsh but by others who wish to stereotype us) that ALL Welsh people:

Are good singers
Are short; and ginger of head
Live like Trolls in a cave
Untrustworthy
Drink too much
We shag sheep
(and worse of all) we all like Rugby.

My answer to these are:

Have you heard Charlotte Church lately? Can't hold a tune in a bucket.
Ok, got me on that one.
We now have electricity in our caves so we now call them apartments.
No, we're not, trust me
Ok, got me on that one too
Er...
Oh no we fucking don't.

I hate living here when we have an international rugby match playing. For weeks before, our national newspaper, The Western Mail has it on the front page as well as several of the sport's pages. The front page for God's sake! The local news has endless interviews with fuckwit, ex players who can just about pronounce their own name -let alone conduct a lucid chat; We have mini dramas between programs showing idiotic fans with large daffodils; and that twat, Max Boyce, sings crappy comedy songs.

WHY?

The game is played by dunces, whose greatest collective achievement is sticking their heads between each others' arse and falling over.

The game is watched by overweight lardarses whose main ambition is to wave at themselves when on camera. And that's just the women. (the guys are too stupid to do two things at once. i.e. wave and stand up)

And if that doesn't put you off, there is always Eddie fucking Butler! What a git.

I really can't see why the game is so revered in this country -it's not as if we are any good at it.

More people watch Cardiff City soccer team train than actually go to a first-class rugby club game in Cardiff.

So, in winding up my rant I would like to offer this: You can abuse me as much as you want; you can call me untrustworthy; you can insult my cave; you can say I speak a dying language. But please, please, please, do not call me a rugby supporter.

Bugger

2005-11-02T15:35:00.000Z

A tad harder today. i'm in the office and trying to keep busy but it keeps popping into my head. "It's fag time."
I am resisting by replying, "Ok, i'll have one after doing so-and-so." That keeps it at bay for a while. I am wearing a patch today and nearly ripped it off my arm, rolled it up and set light to it so i could smoke that instead but i guess that would just be stupid.

Off on a couple of visits tomorrow so that should keep my brain more occupied. Then again, i have to go to Swansea and Newport and if you have ever been there, you will understand that they are enough to make the Pope smoke dope so...

Day 1

2005-11-01T18:33:00.000Z

Today i attempted to give up smoking. I usually do about 20 a day.

I had to drive to Bristol today for a seminar and i find that i smoke quite a lot when driving, so it was a tough start to the day but i made it- nicotine-free. Having to sit in a large lecture theatre for hours on end also helped. I buckled at 2PM though. Some colleagues went out for a smoke at lunch time and i just had to join in. Damn it.

I also had one on the way home. My excuse is that it takes about 90 minutes to drive home and the traffic was heavy. I actually bought a pack of 10 on the way back and have left them in the car. Perhaps i should get the kids to hide them.

Anyway. I tried - i failed, but not as badly as i thought. I always have the patches to drop back on if it gets any worse.

Tommy

2005-10-30T19:17:00.000Z

Ah, Tommy is a Bichon Frise. As you can see from the blurb below, he comes from the Mediterranean. Well that's not strictly true, he came from down the road. His little legs wouldn't have got him here really, would they? And he doesn't read maps or catch trains.

Also in the blurb below, it says he found early success in Spain, which is more than Michael Owen did.

If you visit dog shows or the such, you will normally see these dogs ponced up with stupid hair-do's . Not mine.

Tommy's hobbies are:

Eating the heels of my shoes if inadvertently left out at night.
Barking.
Sniffing the cat's arse and then running away
Posing for pictures.
Turning rusty. (evidenced in this photo)

My tips for these dogs are:
Pick your shoes up.
Let them bark a bit.
Unless you like watching them sniffing cats' arses- get rid of the cat.
Don't take too many photo's as they tend to get a bit star-struck and become unbearable.
Don't let them out in the rain.

The Blurb (ripped from the Kennel Club of America site. Ta muchly)
The Bichon descended from the Barbet or Water-Spaniel, from which came the name "Barbichon", later contracted to Bichon.
The Bichon was developed in the Mediterranean area.
Appreciated for their dispositions, Bichons traveled much through antiquity, finding early success in Spain and frequently used as items of barter internationally.
Bichons were rediscovered by the Italians in the 14th century and became great favorites of Italian nobility.
The "Teneriffe" ("Teneriffe" being the Canary Island) or "Bichon" made its appearance in France under Francis I, the patron of the Renaissance, but its greatest success was in the court of Henry III.
The Bichon was also a favorite in Spain, becoming a favorite of the Infantas and painters of the Spanish school (the breed is featured in a number of Goya's paintings).

Weaning off the weed

2005-10-25T12:54:00.000+01:00

November the 1st is the day I stop smoking. I have done it before so I know I can do it again. I smoke 20 a day and it costs a fortune.

The last time I gave up, I went 6 years without wanting a fag. I started again by having one now and again when I went to the pub. I was in control. 2 fags in a night then nothing for ages. Trouble is, it creeps up on you and the next thing I know, bugger, I'm smoking again.

Have been back on them for about 3 years now. It will be harder this time because when I gave up the first time, I worked with my hands and kept myself busy; now I either sit at my desk at home or travel a lot in the car for work. It's at those times I'm at my most needy.

Only 6 more days to go, wish me luck.

Oh my aching arms.

2005-10-25T12:11:00.000+01:00

As it happens, the first gig went quite well. Started our first set and the reaction was a bit muted.
Second half I told the other guys to turn it up to stop people talking. (Pete Townshend once said: People come to hear me, I don't want to hear them.)

It worked. People actually took a bit of notice and got off their arse and danced.
Dropped a stick during 'Substitute' but I think I got away with it. My arms still ache, which proves I'm not fit enough to be a drummer and that it's probably due to me smoking.

Which leads me on to my next post.

First Gig

2005-10-21T00:45:00.000+01:00

Playing my first gig with Spiny Norman tomorrow, Friday 21st October.

Had our final practice last night. We sounded very rusty and tired. Hope it doesn't carry forward to tomorrow.

We are playing in St. Mellons, Cardiff and I think it's a retirement do. Oh my god they will all probably be over 60 and we will be too loud.

F..k 'em.