Went to the Norwich Beer Festival yesterday.
Bit of a rum do !
Odd opening hours 11.30am to 2.30pm then 7.00pm to 11.30pm. Why ???
Probably the worst organised beer festival I’ve ever been to.
Never mind, all the beer was good.
Strange folk, Norfolk people.
Very Strange
Today I’ve been cutting wood for my mother – fuel for her wood-burners.
It pissed down of rain a lot. It was quite nice really as I was in the garage, sawing away, happy as a sand-boy – rain on a corrugated roof. There’s something very satisfying about rain on a corrugated asbestos or tin roof.
As a kid I would love to sit in our shed when it rained. Hard to explain why, but the sound of the rain, coupled with the feeling of being dry and sheltered, while all around is wet, gives one a nice warm feeling.
Sad really !
Tuesday, 4th November 2003
Remember, Remember the 4th of November
When I was a lad, and when my father before me was a lad, the 4th of November, in these here parts, was always known as baulking (pronounced borking) night.
It’s a practice that seems to have died out now, sadly, but it consisted of knocking on people’s doors and running away. Oh how we laughed – in fact we laughed ‘til we shat.
We Shat
Clearly over the last couple of weeks we’ve been having a damn fine laugh, in the bar of the Hammer & Sickle, at the expense of the brainless ones that are the Tory party. It’s a shame that the squabbling appears to have come to an end. At least temporarily. Never mind we’ll just have to go back to making our own fun. There’s always Nobby’s elephant impression – that never fails to get the lads chortling and the ladies screaming !
"Something of the night"
Wednesday, 5th November 2003
Thespians take note
I think it is fair to say that masturbation doesn’t really work in the context of street theatre.
Vin Ordinaire
We felt we had to buy this when we saw it in a French supermarché, on our holiday in September. Obviously it was the name that did it for us. We’re not really wine buffs, although we know what we like. It turns out that it’s made from a mixture of Syrah and Grenache, so hopefully it should be okay. If it is, it will be a bonus.
We’re not going to drink it until we can think of a suitable occasion.
Perhaps an International Paint-Drying contest ?
I’ve been coding my own comments system, but it’s taking longer than anticipated to get it to work exactly how I want it to. So using good 80/20 principles, I’ve decided to use enetation, at least temporarily.
Speak your mind, or out of your arse - the choice is yours.
Friday, 7th November 2003
Who switched the light out ?
My site disappear up it’s own existence today – Woe is me !
This was due to, what my provider termed as, “emergency maintenance” – they clearly can’t be arsed with restoring stuff so I’ve had to reload everything myself. Just hope it’s all working properly now. Curses !
Failed to get to the pub this evening – canned beer is not as good. Bummer !
Sex, Lies and The Prince of Wales
It’s seedy. It’s tacky. And…
…it’s frequented by spotty Herberts, drinking lager, and student beauty therapists called Kylie, pouting moronically, and sipping the latest alco-pop.
There is a great deal of anticipation in the air. This is probably due to the spotty Herberts hoping to shag the Kylies at some point in the evening. Or in the interests of equal opportunity and balance, Kylies hoping to shag spotty Herberts. As long as said spotties have a car of course.
The place is awash with hormones and cheap perfume. It’s sex, sex, sex and more sex oozing from every crevice !
The walls of the Gents are adorned with some very choice graffiti, and a prophylactic proliferation of rubber johnny machines. Both of which could be described as having exotic content.
The Prince of Wales is also literally tacky. Tacky from years of abuse by the clientele. Spilling their drinks and dropping their fag ends. The bar has carpet like fly paper.
The music is too loud, and the beer tastes like horse piss. Plus, I’m probably too old to stand the excitement.
Guess what ?
I don’t go there much, except when I need re-assuring how good the Hammer & Sickle is.
So there you have it. The Prince of Wales. A shit pub.
How many hits from search engine referrals will this get me I wonder ?
Perhaps I should add in: Buggery, Sex, Man on Man Action, Sex, Charles, Sex, Table tennis, Sex, Royal Household and Sex for good measure.
Opportunistic or what ?
Sunday, 9th November 2003
Le Weekend
As a working person, who pays a reasonable amount in tax (god I'm in
danger of sounding like a Tory - heaven forbid), would it be too much to
ask, to have the movements restricted, at certain times of the week, of a
delinquent section of the population ?
They are disruptive, grumpy, and they hang about the streets getting up to no good at all.
When I go to town on a Saturday they get in the way. They’re everywhere. In shops, in building societies, wandering around the market.
What’s needed is a curfew. A curfew for pensioners !
They've got all fucking week to go shopping, do their business in town etc. etc.
Why do they have to get in the way at the weekend ?
I broadcast my opinion in the bar at the H&S, suggesting that disobedient OAP’s should be clapped in irons. That was by the end of my second pint.
Nobby suggested that we should be allowed to carry electric cattle prods, “That’ll move the old buggers out o’ the way !”
“I fucking hate town on any day”, was Albert’s only contribution to the debate.
Come the revolution this problem will be sorted.
Reg and Bert, flat cap wearers probably from birth, sat hunched up in the corner. They supped their pints in disgruntled bemusement. I suspect that they knew that they would be on the list.
Monday, 10th November 2003
Fiddlers Elbow
My site seems to have been back and forth in various versions over the weekend, whilst my ISP appears to be sorting out the problems they experienced at the end of last week. I hope I now have everything updated again on my site.
Scary Tears
I’m rather partial to the version of Mad World by Gary Jules, that is apparently being released early in December. It’s getting a fair bit of radio play at the moment, and I can’t seem to get it out of my head.
It’s not often that I like a cover version equally or more than the original, but this is pretty damn good. It fact I’d go so far as saying it’s “Teen Terrific !”.
Tuesday, 11th November 2003
Animal Cruelty
I don’t watch commercial television much but happened to catch a bit of it last night. As a consequence the adverts are usually a fresh experience to me. And so it was that I was treated to the delights of one that was possibly eulogising the merits of the Renault Mégane.
The ad appears to be advocating the rough treatment of mules, as they are constantly singing about “Shaking that ass”. It could be of course that this reference is metaphorical, and what they are really suggesting is dealing with the car’s designer, who is clearly guilty of the most heinous crime against humanity for designing such a hideously ugly car.
Every car has the right to be considered ugly, take the Fiat Multipla for instance, but the Megane abuses the privilege. It’s nauseating features are only surpassed by that of the Renault Vel Satis.
I’ve never understood why anyone would buy a Renault when they can buy a decent car instead.
Also confusing are the images of les derrière. I can only assume that this is reinforcing the view that the Mégane is an arse of a car.
Prior to watching the advert, I would have had no intention of buying any sort of Renault without first having a taste bypass. Now I would not own one even if I was paid to do so.
The French are very defensive about their language, and rightly so.
So why is a French company degrading our language ?
A little bit of solidarity against the cancerous growth of American wouldn’t go amiss.
“Is it me ?”
Nice car !
Thursday, 13th November 2003
And Did Those Feet
A small knobbly vegetable. A tuber resembling an exotic if not slightly knarled salad potato, or an old man’s gonads. It all depends on your way of looking at the world.
Boiled and served with a little butter, they make a very tasty vegetable. Dished up on their plate, most people would probably find them very acceptable.
That’s it then. Jerusalem Artichokes taste nice. Go forth and consume.
Not quite. Anyone who has ever eaten them will, I’m sure, testify to the following. The Jerusalem Artichoke is not at all what it first might seem !
Unless you have a cast iron constitution it will not be many hours after eating the said vegetable that they will start to weave their glorious magic.
There is an initial bubbling in the stomach, a bit like the morning after the curry the night before.
A little while later comes the wind, and boy is it wind !
Gale force and smelly.
Baked beans pale into insignificance compared to the humble Jerusalem Artichoke
If you were intending to enter the Word Farting Championships, for gold medal results, you would train on this powerful vegetable.
For those who’s cross to bear in life is constipation, fear ye not and suffer no more. The Jerusalem Artichoke is your godsend. They’ll shift anything. Just light the blue touch paper and stand well back.
A boon to mankind, and guaranteed to break the ice at parties !
Sunday, 16th November 2003
“What We Need Is A Great Big Melting Pot”
Bloody Foreigners, they come over here, they don’t learn to speak our language, they don’t respect our ways, and refuse to accept our culture, forcefully maintaining their own.
They live in ghettos that maintain the pretence of being their own country. They import their own food, their own films, they don’t pay taxes and they get cheap petrol. Bastards !
These immoral immigrants are predominantly, but not exclusively, white. Their ghettos have names like Mildenhall, Lakenheath and they are here to keep the western world free from democracy.
“Over paid, over sexed and over here”.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate American people as individuals. Except perhaps No-brains Bush and his cronies. I think I could make an exception for them. But in general I like American people. I have even been known to fraternise with them, here in Occupied Suffolk, including one poor chap who had the misfortune to work in ‘American Intelligence’ (shame on you who thought oxymoron) – which although he was a nice bloke, intelligent he was not. But then Uncle Sam likes yes men !
I have also enjoyed visits to the US of A. I have always found the people very friendly and very open. But when it comes to the USAF, I have only one thing to say, “Yanks go home !”.
“And take your WMD’s, and cultural and political imperialism with you”.
I’m sure that those who want to stay on, as civilians, would be most welcome, as I think we should be making others welcome that arrive at these shores.
It’s a very strange society that we live in where we seem to tolerate a whole bunch of people who put nothing into it yet, don’t want to welcome the very people that want to work hard and integrate into British life. Namely the vast majority of would be immigrants to this country.
There are a lot of lies spread in this country by the likes of the gutter press and the Brainless Nutters Party. It’s time that people woke up to the truth, instead of being in denial. Immigration is what makes this country great.
The vast majority of would be immigrants to the UK are single young males – they should be helped to stay – it’s a fact that they will help generate wealth and act as a balance to our ageing population.
We are actually more tolerant than most Europeans to immigration, but we still need to get a bit better at it. More practice I think !
It’s good that curry has become our national dish. I rest my case.
The Birdman had an entry in his blog today about face transplants and asked the question, “…whose face would you like if it were possible?”
My thought was Michael Jackson !
I can hear the sharp intakes of breath as I type – but hold ye hard just a mo – I’m an ale fan, and to ale fans there is only one Michael Jackson, just like to music lovers there’s only one Elvis.
Others with the same name are just talent-less twerps.
My reason for wanting to look like Michael Jackson – all the free beer you’d be able to scrounge of course.
Polite Notice
George Bush, please fuck off to where you came from.
Sunday, 23rd November 2003
”Goodbye Blackberry Way”
I’ve been out of action for a few days, with pains in my shoulder, and a mighty stiff neck. I could hardly move, let alone even think about going anywhere near a computer. In an effort to cheer me up The Lady bought me this bottle of beer. Which was nice.
Here are my tasting notes:
Brewery: Fullers
Beer: Jack Frost
Alcohol: 4.5% vol.
Not Bottle Conditioned
A full-bodied winter type ale, flavoured with blackcurrants.
You can certainly taste the blackcurrants; the flavour lingers, along with quite a bitter aftertaste. Just the thing for a cold winter’s evening.
“Jack Frost roasting on an open fire,
Chestnuts nipping at your toes.”
“Christmas comes but once a year,
And when it comes it brings good beer.”
Real Ale, Real Ale, Beer, Beer, Real Ale. Jack Whiting
Monday, 24th November 2003
I Never Studied Geography At School, I Couldn’t Find The Classroom !
One of the things I like about blogging is that it gives me the chance to have a damned good moan.
And today’s moan is about West Wales.
One thing that’s guaranteed to get right up my nose is what I see as the misuse of the English language and other inaccuracies. Even though I realise I must be guilty, at times, of misuse myself.
One of the many things that makes me want to throw the nearest available object at the television or radio is when someone mentions West Wales when they really mean The West of Wales. West Wales is what we now know as Cornwall (or there abouts) and not the west of the country we now call Wales. Sheer laziness that’s all it is.
I don’t like bashing the BBC but I do feel that they are “dumbing down”, to use the popular parlance, when they allow such misuse to carry on.
Controversy that’s something else that most of the BBC seems to get wrong. It’s pronounced con-trov-er-sy and not contra-versy. Get it right you dickheads, or should that be Richard Craniums ?
Thank you. I feel better for that.
Where are we boyo ?
Thursday, 27th November 2003
Bits & Pieces
Good to hear on the radio news this morning that one of this country’s greatest living poets, Benjamin Zephaniah, has turned down an OBE. I’m glad everyone’s not selling out.
Thanks goes out to Times New Roman in his Saturday, November 22, 2003 blog entry, for pointing out that I’m, ventilateur de bière anglaise in ‘French’. It made I chuckle.
If he’d have lived, Jimi Hendrix would have been 61 today, RIP Voodoo Child.
This day in 1970 The Gay Liberation Front held its first demonstration in London.
Good rant by Occupied Country, With God on our Side, 26th November.
Religion is a very personal thing, I have Quaker sympathies but I don’t go around expecting others all to believe the same. We have the choice of many different pathways to walk in this life.
One thing I do believe is that there are basic universal human rights, which everyone should be entitled to, and which no religion has the right to devalue. Things like the equality of sexes, sexual orientation, age and disability. The right to birth control and the responsibility to not contribute to the over population of the planet. Other rights including sufficient to eat, schooling, medical care etc. etc. etc. etc.
Something I think is totally immoral and that's religious schools. It’s wrong to indoctrinate children. There would be a great deal of outcry if political parties had their own schools (I realise that the Tories already do with the public school system), so why do we allow religious bigots loose on our children ?
Not sure I agree with Part 2 today though OC – Football bah ! Sport bah !
