Grain Of Truth Publications presents:
Diary of an Ale-Fan
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September
Monday, 1st September 2003
Question
Have you ever been to a meeting – either at work or elsewhere, where someone’s given a serious presentation or speech, and then finished off with those immortal words, “Any questions anybody ?”
It’s at this point that I usually have an almost overwhelming urge to ask,
“Who won the FA Cup in 1955 ?”
I say overwhelming because I’ve never had the courage to actually ask this particular question.
The year is a significant one, but I’ve never really been that interested in football, or sport in general come to that, so I don’t know why I should want to ask this question. It’s probably just that it seems like the ideal question to ask after some pompous arse has just been waffling on ad nauseam.
Perhaps one day I’ll get around to asking it.
Next time you’re in this situation please feel free to use it.
Oh by the way.
Who did win the FA Cup in 1955 ?
Tuesday, 2nd September 2003
Knickers !
Boxer shorts. Why ?
Why does any bloke want to wear boxer shorts ?
They must be one of the most uncomfortable pieces of clothing known to man. They don’t give you any support. They just keep you hanging around.
We were discussing this topic over a pint, like you do, in the Hammer & Sickle last night.
Baz and Daz both claimed to wear boxers, but then they would, they drink lager !
Then Roger piped up, with a smile on his face, “I go commando chaps !”
He then had to be forcibly restrained from dropping his trousers.
“Careful” said some old boy, “Stan’s in tonight”.
Nobby reckoned that boxer shorts were worn by blokes who were somewhat bereft in the tackle department.
Indignant and well on the defensive, “I tuck mine in me sock” said Baz.
“Sock fucker” came the cry from the far corner.
Daz was conspicuous by his silence.
Albert, the landlord and cardigan-king, joined in with “my ‘Y-Fronts’ were a quid for three pair off the market. Come up to me armpits they do. Don’t need a vest.”
Rosie, who had been listening to our nonsense with a smile on her face, and a roll-up behind her ear, said she didn’t care what a man was wearing, as long as she could rip ‘em off with her teeth.
Whether she meant, with them in her mouth, or as a kind of hand tool, straight from the glass, still foaming with Steradent, we were not sure.
Nobby and I both agreed that M&S briefs were the only thing for the man about town, even if they do give you the betty’s in the heat of the summer.
Stan winked and whispered that he was wearing pink silk ones. He said he was feeling lucky tonight!
We’re a broad church at the H&S. Which is nice.
Wednesday, 3rd September 2003
Fashion Tip
Crotch-less Earflaps are the next big thing, you mark my words.
Remember you read it here first.
Eat your heart out Jean Paul !
Thought for the day
The collective noun for bankers is a wunch.
“Have a nice day !”
Maths - Lesson 1
A billion is 1,000,000,000,000 (a million multiplied by a million) and definitely not a 1,000 x 1 million (1,000,000,000).
Have you got that you stupid journalists and businessmen ?
Thursday, 4th September 2003
Esperanto
Have you seen the Nissan Micra ads “Do You Speak Micra ?” where they take the first part of one word and marry it with the last part of another word:
This has created quite a discussion on Terry Wogan’s Radio 2 show (yes I admit I’m a TOG, or as The Lady once inadvertently put it, a WOG – not a word we would normally use – guess she must be a TOG as well). People have been writing in with their own examples. I laughed ‘til I shat !
Here’s one I’m sure you won’t disagree with: Phil Collins,
shame he can’t write.
You can play this game at home !
Send me your best.
I personally wouldn’t touch a Micra with a barge pole – they’re driven by the same sort of people as Rover drivers – you know, dosey bastards.
You know who you are, driving at a constant 45 mph, regardless of the speed limit. Getting in the wrong lane at roundabouts. And generally not having a fucking clue what’s going on around them.
Come the revolution they’ll all be given a good seeing to with the electric cattle prod. That will wake them up a bit.
I need
This week I have been mostly wanting, the new Half Man Half Biscuit EP - "Saucy Haulage Ballads".
Friday, 5th September 2003
One man band
Rosie can swear better than any man I know. A regular at the Hammer & Sickle, she’s very much one of the lads.
She drinks pints of Abbot, has false teeth, which she has often been known to leave in her pint, guarding her ale while she ‘powders her nose’.
“I’m just off to the lavvy”, she’ll holler.
Plop go the nashers, slowly sinking to the bottom of her beer.
Abbot, the ale that bites back !
She claims it stops people swiping her beer. She’s not far wrong.
Her hair is short, blonde to ginger. In a style that could easily be described as post-modernist garden sheared.
Rolling her own ciggies, she wealds a flame-thrower like lighter, which one day is sure to engulf her roll-up in an instant, leaving her lips charred and pouting. When not smoking, she will always have one on standby, tucked behind her right ear.
Albert our genial host doesn’t mind the swearing, but occasionally complains when the discussion, as it invariably does when Rosie’s around, turns to what he describes as ‘farmyard activities’.
When dealing with this subject, Rosie doesn’t believe in leaving anything to the imagination. If you’re an available man, with even a hint of inadequacy in the bedroom arts, steer clear of Rosie – unless of course you court infamy and ridicule.
When drunk she can often be found challenging all comers to pickle egg eating competitions, bouts of arm wresting, or both. Men or women, she doesn’t discriminate. Rosie knows no prejudice. Or fear come to that.
And if you think that’s cool, as a career woman she delivers bricks, driving an HGV !
She’s a good old boy is Rosie.
And now a word from our sponsors:
Sunday, 7th September 2003
Stuff
On this day in 1859 Isambard Kingdom Brunel died.
I bet he was pissed off about that !
Sunday: “It should be different from another day. People may walk, but not throw stones at birds”.
Dr Johnson.
The big news on the front of Friday’s Bury Free Press was that the Production of Branston Pickle is being transferred to Bury St Edmunds.
It’ll be a big day for our town.
It’s just one long helter skelter of excitement here – we know how to live !
Monday, 8th September 2003
Hooray up she rises
My calendar is suggesting that: “1580 – The first yachts appeared, at a water festival in Amsterdam.”
This presumably was an hour or two after the coffee shop festival.
I wonder if HMS Ganja made an appearance ?
Nibble
Don’t you just hate people who use the word supper when they really mean tea or dinner ?
I do. They get right up my nose. Come the revolution they’re for it.
Supper is a snack that you have at bedtime. To ward off night starvation !
It’s cheese and biscuits, beans on toast, a tub of coleslaw or a few Hobnobs.
Nibbly things, not a full scale meal.
It’s often a solitary pastime. For me it’s usually standing up in the kitchen (ooh err missus), beer, cheese and pickles (Bury’s own Branston soon).
You don’t ask people round for supper, unless of course you’ve got group sex in mind. In which case carry on.
The next time someone asks us around for supper I’m turning up with me nightshirt, a pack of condoms and a jar of gerkins.
I always practice safe supper.
If you're the sort of person that serves fondue or soufflés, then you’re probably the kind of stupid fucker that hasn’t got a clue what supper really is. You’re also bound to read the Mail or the Telegraph and vote Tory (or Labour come to that !). We know who you are.
And while we’re on the subject of tossers getting it wrong in the food department, a muffin is something you toast. It’s not a bun with fruit or chocolate in it !!!!!
Muffins are bready things not cakey things.
A bun in a bun case is a BUN, not a muffin, okay ?
Thankyou.
Rudyard Kipling made exceedingly good cakes.
“Do you like Kipling ?”
“I don’t know I’ve never Kippled !”
Every one a gem !
Wednesday, 10th September 2003
Pisces ?
Hi I’m Paul.
And I’m a vegetarian.
It’s been 12 years now and there’s no going back. Despite holidays in France.
It’s certainly a lot easier to be a vegetarian now, than when I first toyed with the idea around thirty years ago.
Eating out in this country is now never a problem. Even the Hammer & Sickle offers more than just the dreaded vegetable lasagne.
These are truly enlightened times that we live in.
Sadly the enlightenment seems to have passed some poor folk by. Those found wantonly lacking in the brain cell department.
Fish.
That’s right Fish.
Fish is the subject of my sermon today.
Now you’re probably thinking, “what possible interest could a vegetarian have in fish ?”
Apart from keeping a few in the garden pond etc.
And I have to say to you “low and behold, none whatsoever”
So why in the name of God do some people seem to think that I might ?
One very good way to annoy a vegetarian is to ask them if they eat fish.
If you’ve ever asked this question, then you are probably one of the most moronic members of the human race that could ever hope to walk the planet !
(Notice I held back a bit there).
If it’s any consolation, there is one group of people that are even more cretinous than that. They are those that put fish dishes under the heading Vegetarian Options or Meals etc. on restaurant/pub menus. They are guilty of committing their stupidity to paper.
Brace yourselves. A fish is not a vegetable. “This new learning amazes me..”
I realise that this might be stating the bleeding obvious but it does seem to be a concept that the more intellectually challenged brethren have a problem grasping.
Vegetarians don’t eat fish – if you eat fish you’re not a vegetarian.
It can’t be plainer than that really.
Amen.
I understand the Patagonian Tooth Carrot is an endangered species.
Some other good ways to annoy vegetarians are: poking them in the eye, farting in front of them (especially when it’s their turn) and sticking your tongue out at them.
Houmous, pitta bread and olives. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Thursday, 11th September 2003
Anniversaries
Today is the Feast Day of St Theodora of Alexandria, St Peter of Chavanon, Saints Protus and Hyacinth, St Deiniol, St Patiens of Lyon, and St Paphnutius.
On this day in:
1922: A British mandate was declared in Palestine – Bastards.
1973: A military junta, with US support, overthrew the elected government of Chile – Fascist Bastards. And the US wonders why nobody likes them !
A big happy birthday to:
1524: Pierre de Ronsard, French poet
1700: James Thomson, Scottish poet - I wonder if I'm related ?
Sadly we said goodbye to:
1971: Nikita Khrushchev, Russian leader – A big blow for soft-shoe diplomacy.
1973: Salvador Allende Gossens, Chilean politician
1987: Peter Tosh, Jamaican reggae star
9/11 has been 49½p since 1971, and nothing else !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, 12th September 2003
Going up in the world.
My blogging is a/going to be a bit erratic for a while.
One reason is I’m painting the outside of our house. Why did we buy one that has painted rendering I ask myself ?
Woe is me !
Second only to flying is my fear of climbing ladders. Unfortunately you can’t paint our house without getting up a ladder.
My ascent is always slow, particularly when compared to the pace of my heartbeat. I hang on for dear life at the top, painting very very slowly, not daring to look down, and constantly catching my breath for fear of passing out. I shall be glad when it’s done.
I’m sometimes accused, usually at my place of work, of being a bit negative, or rather, not positive enough. So in an attempt to put a positive spin on the house-painting predicament, I can certainly say that I’m currently not troubled by the constipation that I am sometimes a martyr to.
And for my next impression, L.E.G. Oates.
I thank you.
Sunday, 21st September 2003
Brrrr
Blimey, it's cold out there !
Actually, we've just come back from a week in Burgundy, and it was wonderfully hot.
More about France later.
Work tomorrow.
Bugger !!!!!
Monday, 22nd September 2003
Rut
Back to work today – bugger !
I hate my job.
One thing that bought a smile to my face was finding this e-mail from one of my colleagues:
-----Original Message-----
From: ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
Sent: 15 September 2003 15:02
To:All Male Staff Members;
Subject: Aromas
To prevent the dispersal of unfortunate aromas into the reception area can
the door between the sit-down and stand-up departments of the gents please
be kept closed and the window open.
Thanks,
John.
Some things never change. Deep joy !
Now, The Ruts were a good band !
Details of A Week In Burgundy might follow in the next few days if I have time.
There's still the house painting to complete, weather permitting.
Tuesday, 23rd September 2003
Drink !
The Ipswich Beer Festival starts today, yipee – I hope to make it there sometime this week. Don’t drink it all before I get there, save some for me !
Whilst we were away, the following good news story appeared in the Guardian:
“One of Britain's most celebrated breweries is returning to family hands in a surprise move which promises to return control of jobs, training and the legendary tipple of Old Peculier Ale to a small market town.”
Click here to read the whole story.
Chocolat
If the one in Reims is anything to go by this chain of Boulangeries is well worth a visit. Their hot chocolate is unbelievable. PAUL – great name as well.
Wednesday, 24th September 2003
Blogging
Today seems to be the day for writing about blogging. Not sure why. No deep analysis, I just enjoy it. The ones I enjoy reading are the ones that make me smile, or ones with sentiments I can empathise with.
1815
“The miners’ safety lamp was invented by Sir Humphrey Davy.”
A Man Thing
One of the topics of conversation in the Hammer & Sickle last night was cosmetics for men. Cosmetics, for men.
Apparently, it’s big business now.
Nobby said he didn’t hold with that sort of thing, which I can well understand.
Now I’ve known Nobby man and boy. He’s only just started using deodorant, much to the relief of us all. He could sweat for England.
Albert said he didn’t believe in any of it. “But it exists”, we insisted.
The occasional dab behind the ears, with a drop of vinegar from the pickled egg jar, was the only concession towards fragrance pour l’Homme he was going to make.
Stan, who has a different perspective on life (and why not ?), claimed to use a wide variety of available products, including cream to hide dark circles, and clear nail varnish.
Baz and Daz, not normally noted for being in touch with their feminine side (apart from drinking lager), both admitted to using lip salve. Which they justified by "being in the building trade". I have this image in my head of the Hard-Hatted Village Person. Can’t think why.
I am the proud owner of a tub of Nivea for Men face-cream, and I’m not afraid to use it. I know someone who wears nail varnish on his toes and goes out in public wearing sandals. I wish I had his courage !
Directors, make mine a pint. (Little ale joke there – did you spot it ?).
Sunday, 28th September 2003
Pilgrimage
I had a certain spring in my step yesterday, as I set off to catch the train to Ipswich. On the news there had been a report saying that there was no such thing as a beer belly. Obviously what’s hanging over the top of my jeans is a figment of my imagination. Fantastic !
This news made me feel extra good, because I was on my way to the 21st Ipswich Beer Festival.
The first beer festival I ever went to was in Ipswich, so it has a special place in my heart. Brings a lump to your throat, doesn’t it ?
Beer festivals, for the uninitiated, are not about getting pissed out of one’s head, although inevitably you see the odd poor soul, who’s somewhat the worse for his ale. Beer festivals are about enjoying, sampling and celebrating real ale. Appreciating the complex and often subtle tastes and flavours. After which you wander out with less than complete control over your balance, and a big stupid grin on your face.
I had some good beers – they had the usual soporific effect – I slept like a log last night – the power of the hop, hey ?
A big fart goes out, in the general direction of Railtrack (or whoever was responsible) though. Because of engineering work we were bussed between Stowmarket and Ipswich. Bastards. Clearly their planning department are all lager drinkers.
latest
Monday, 29th September 2003
More, Oliver ?
I never shop at Sainsburys. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an old person’s supermarket, and I ain’t that old yet !
The Lady shops there, because once a week she takes her elderly father, who won’t shop anywhere else. I rest my case.
It’s Tesco or Waitrose for me. Nothing else will do.
Anyway, I digress. There was a big smile of the Lady’s face when she emptied out the shopping last week and presented me with a certain bag of something.
She said that when she saw the label she just had to buy them. Well we are vegetarians after all. And this wondrous product is suitable for vegetarians. Perfect.
It seems that Sainsburys have stolen a march on their rivals (unless you have spotted them elsewhere), and introduced vegetarian PEAS. What will they think of next ?
I almost wet myself with excitement.
As you can see below, the label states “suitable for vegetarians”.
I await the vegan potato with great anticipation.
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