Gender: Male
Status: Swinger
Age: 32
Sign: Aries
City: A Tiny Village Near Birmingham
Country: UK
Signup Date: 1/10/2006
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Tuesday, July 07, 2009
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Category: Friends
Keep It Safe Out There!
A few weeks back, I'd decided that while Lill Boo was in Spain for a week, I'd take the opportunity to get together with a few people and spend the day on the bikes.
I figured if it was dry, we'd head off on the Sunday morning down some great roads to the 'Quat' biker cafe in Bridgnorth, Shropshire. After filling up on bacon butties, I wanted to ride the Bridgnorth-Ludlow road which is one of my favourite roads ever, then go on to... meh - Hereford? Or wherever anyone else wanted to go.
My mate Tom stepped in and said he'd put a BBQ on for us all back at his afterwards, a few people showed interest, and the day was on!
Sunday morning I woke up to sun and blue skies ready for a perfect day. Twenty mins before I'd arranged to meet everyone, the skies went blacker than Motown and the Heavens opened enough for flash flooing within about 5 mins! Argh!
After multiple texts to everyone, I figured as I'd kind-of organised it all, I had to at least go to the start point and see if anyone showed up. As it happened, 2 mins before I went, the sun was back out, and I was surprised to find three very wet looking bikes waiting already!
As time went by, that number swelled to NINE, with more to meet along the way, and my little bimble had suddenly started looking like there'd be a bit of pressure on me!
I'm not a fan of group riding. There are multiple reasons for this: I have to control The Red Mist - I know I'm fast when I want to be, and I know I don't have anything to prove... but when someone is riding faster or (heaven help me) overtakes me, then that switch flicks in my head. Aside from this, if you're at the back you're either being left behind or everyone ahead is holding you up - whichever way it's rarely a pace that you want to ride at. And if you're leading (which I'd never done for this many people), you have to set the pace which in this case was a total mix of very fast riders and totally unknown people I'd never ridden with before!
I didn't have to worry, because the roads were dry and I think everyone was comfortable and rode their own pace. The few usual Kamikaze overtakes were displayed by people who shall remain nameless, though! I found it easy at the front, and the bike was working perfectly on the new tyres so I was scraping pegs and knees just about everywhere in total confidence! I even overtook a Police car, much to the amusement of the others! What? He was doing 45mph in a 60 zone following some car driver who was obviously shitting himself! "Oh no! It's the Police! They're going to arrest me and taze me!"
I must admit I kept the revs right down as I went past them both, though... *ahem*
So all was great! As it turned out, most of the others had never seen that road and thoroughly enjoyed it!
A few from a bike forum split off with Tom to go home or get the BBQ ready, and I led the rest towards Worcester - intending to find a nice pub for a quick drink and chat then homeward bound for burnt food!
We came into another 60 zone following a car. The car braked hard in front of me, moving in to the left, so being unsure I'd be able to stop in time, and knowing there were also about 6 bikes right behind me, I pulled to the right and opened the throttle to clear the threat.
As I was alongside it became obvious that the car was going to turn right, across the road (and solid double white lines), to do what we later found out was a u-turn.
To me, this was just another of those 'close calls' that bikers get. No real drama for me.
I watched in my mirrors hoping everyone else stopped in time or got around safely, and saw Baz get through just as the car started turning slightly, then Wayne went around taking the same avoiding action as us. Still watching my mirrors, I saw the silver car turn across the road just as I rounded a bend with Baz close behind.
We slowed up to let the others catch up.
The we slowed some more as nobody appeared behind us. Eventually we stopped completely. I turned to Baz and asked if everyone made it through? I hadn't seen anyone go into the back of the car, but had the sinking feeling that that's what had happened.
no traffic at all came up behind us, and we turned around and very slowly headed back. I knew something must have happened, but I'd seen Wayne come past the car, so what could have happened after? I thought maybe someone had lost the front end - not pleasant, but a relatively minor crash.
A car came towards us flashing his headlights. Oh fuck.
As we rounded the last bend we could see all the traffic stopped. Our crews bikes were parked up at the sides of the road. The car was across the road having pulled into a driveway. Someone was holding Wayne back as he shouted at someone in a rage.
As I stopped I saw the green and white Kawasaki ZXR400 lay on the ground near the car. A few people were stood over it's rider, Scott, who was lay on the grass verge next to a fence. Luckily, he was conscious and sat up, although I could tell he wasn't right.
The first part was all a blur as I tried to figure out what the Hell had happened. I still can't really piece together how it would have all fit in.
Apparently Wayne had just missed the idiot in the car, and then pulled alongside her to give her a mouthful. He'd then pulled in front - and bearing in mind this was now THREE very loud bikes that had just narrowly avoided a collision she caused - she then STILL turned across the road to do a u-turn!!
This is when Scott had seen her parked at the side of the road, with some of us gone past the car and others stopped behind, and so gone around the car... but of course suddenly all he saw was the side of the car. He hit just behind her front wheel arch and flew 20 yards through the air landing on the grass verge with his head under the fence. He remembers seeing sky and then me getting off my bike - so must have been out of it for a fair while!
The dumb bint had then panicked and floored the accelerator, wheelspinning across the road and taking out a large section of fence - which must have also been close to running over Scot where he landed! Scott's bike was totally trashed. Bent frame, every piece of bodywork smashed, huge dent in the tank seemingly made by a massive cock, sub-frame bent, chuck out of the front wheel - even the glass in all three gauges was shattered! He'd JUST spent about a year getting the bike perfect in every way...
The next hour or so was full of shouting, ambulances, Police, etc... The woman driving didn't seem to give a shit about it!
The long and short of it is that eventually the rest of us made the BBQ and the day was great apart from the crash.
Scott was very lucky. Later on that evening I found out that Lucie Stone (aka Grib) - one of the two girls who did that speedway training day with me a few months ago - had taken her brand new Fireblade out for a first ride.
I saw a few peoples statuses on Facebook and thought the worst, and checking her boyfriends page saw he said "Lucie's never coming home - she's been killed in an accident..."
A lovely girl who I at least had the pleasure of meeting once, and who I was sure to meet again for something bikey.
By some twist of fate, on page 40 of the August issue of Bike magazine, there is an article by Lucie about that speedway day that she'll never get to see...
R.I.P Grib, and the rest of you buggers keep it safe out there...
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Wednesday, July 01, 2009
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Category: Art and Photography
Angel To Demon
Whilst you may think I've done bugger all in my time being quiet on here, I've actually been a busy little beaver!
Unfortunately, this is going to be a boring bike blog with technical stuff in - if I can even be arsed to write that without boring myself!
There is a funky picture you can scroll down to - so feel free to tell me how sexy that is!
Right, for the first time ever, I decided it was time to have a look at my bikes suspension settings. It's a big old slow (hehehe!) sports-tourer, so is never going to outrun my mates on their superbikes in the twisties, but I was vaguely aware that I should be able to stay in the seat through bumpy corners like we saw on the Isle Of Wight.
With great trepidation, I found out where my adjusters were for compression and rebound at the front and rear. Then I found out what the Hell they meant.
Basically, Compression is how the bike loads up the front end on the brakes and tipping into a corner, rebound is how it behaves when you release the brakes and drive through the corner, and it should all work together to keep the tyres in contact with the road.
There's the simple way of making your suspension harder or softer - but go too far one way and it has the opposite effects, i.e. loss of traction from being too hard or too soft. Then there are a billion other factors, and quite honestly you need a damn degree to fully understand it all!
My first step was to try and get the bike back to the standard settings that Mr Kawasaki lets it leave the factory with. This is an 'ok' setting for most people most of the time, but ideally you want to tailor it to yourself. It's the best place to start from, either way!
First thing I found was that it's remarkably easy. You literally shove a screwdriver in and turn it until it clicks. By turning each adjuster all the way anti-clockwise, you then count how many clicks to match it to the stock settings.
The front was way too soft! Not only that, but each side of the forks were on different settings - which should never happen! That could account for some strange tyre wear I've had on the front - and also why my front has worn out faster than the rear (they usually last up to twice the miles of a rear).
Onto the rear. Standard compression setting is the 5th click of 20 - so fairly soft. Mine was on 20!!!
So this is probably why when I'm hard on the brakes the rear wheel is almost always waving about in mid-air somewhere above me!
Straight away, returning to stock settings made a huge difference. The bike turned in much faster and must have understeered like a pig before - I just didn't know any better so rode around it! The back also stayed on the tarmac most of the time, and drove much better out of corner without spinning up.
I chose a favourite road and changed one thing at a time through loads of runs... and then it rained just as I was getting it! Bah!
Since then, I've been playing around with the front. It's still better than it was, but not right. I'm not sure if that's me, or possibly a low oil level in the forks? Time will tell...
So, to completely screw all that work up, today I put brand spanking new tyres on.
Brace yourself, because this is as sexy as fuck:
Hoo-haa!
The brand new of the newest Pirelli Angel ST.
The picture in the tread of the angel wears off after around 500 miles and turns into the demon instead!
I was totally drawn in by this - whether it's just gimmick or not, you have to say that it kicks ass!
Technically, they should be the best sports-touring tyre ever made - giving better grip wet and dry and more mileage than all the others... We will have to see...
So first impression is that they felt very slow an heavy, but also very stable banked over. They will take some getting used to, and I'll definitely be changing my set-up to suit them better.
After 15 miles on the motorway to get some heat into them, the first sweeping left-hander I came to saw my pegs scraping the road without the slightest twitch (new tyres have to be 'scrubbed in' for up to 100 miles before they grip well). Even better is that inspecting them after that showed they weren't scrubbed right to the edge like most other ST tyres seem to at that lean angle. Bargain!
Well, I say 'bargain'... the set cost me £220, and if I get more than 3000 miles from them it'll be a bonus...
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Tuesday, June 30, 2009
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Category: Pets and Animals
Cooking Fat!!!
Recently, I've been getting a visitor to my usually pet-less home.
I think she's called Rebel, and the neighbours cat. The neighbour has what sounds like 60 little shitty yappy dogs, so Rebel understandably doesn't go in there very often.
Re-winding a little here, my old neighbour died, leaving Rebel seemingly unfed and starving on the streets, with mangy dropping-out fur etc - I thought the little runt was going to buy the farm, so showed it some love when I saw her.
Rebel got over the initial fear then went absolutely batshit crazy for any fuss! She'd literally jump all over you, flinging herself face first at your hands in a constant barrage. This much hasn't changed - although now she's looking healthy again!
Of course, she remembered all this, so she started legging it over to us every time she saw us, and even started coming into my house if any doors were left open.
It was ok. I miss animals around the place - although... don't you feel a bit dirty stroking someone elses pussy? It's fine for a quick stroke on the streets, but when they come into the privacy of your home it just feels a bit seedy and inappropriate!
If it was my pussy in some strangers home getting stroked by all and sundry I wouldn't be too happy about it's betrayal!
So this cat won't sit still. It's all over you all the time desperate for fuss. This gets irritating after a while - the picture I took was almost impossible because the damn thing will just about paws (get it?!) for a millisecond then she's off again! I don't think any camera in the world has a shutter speed fast enough to get a good face-on pic.
Anyway, now it's Summer, and with the heat we have some windows open.
A few weeks back Rebel surprised us by jumping in one of the windows and trotting into the room to dive at hands and stuff. Ok...
The other night, after kicking Rebel out the front door, I was sat there when the living room door opened slightly followed by a familiar squeaking miaow.
Sure enough, in she trots. She must have snuck back in before I'd got the doors closed? Out she went again, Flintstones style.
About 30 minutes later, the living room door opened and in she came again! Huh.
Out I put her yet again, then did a quick reccy of the house, knowing she could get in through the windows. They were all closed apart from the tiny top window in the kitchen - above the sink that was piled with washing up. No way the little runt could have got up to that one, let alone got inside and back to floor level without some serious noise!
I went back to playing GTA and buggering about on the laptop, then headed up to bed.
From upstairs, movement caught my eye and the cooking fat came bounding up the stairs towards me! WTF??!?
Here I am worried about preventing wasps getting in, and some filthy great kitten is bypassing my defences! Last night I opened a window that probably hasn't opened for 5 years, and is at the side of the house overlooking a 10ft high roof.
Guess who saw this somehow and decided it was an invitation?
That's right - Christopher bloody Walken!!!
No - hang on... I mean Rebel!
I'm not feeding Rebel or anything, but I suspect she'd take fuss over food, anyway...
I'm starting to think I may have acquired a cat.
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Thursday, June 18, 2009
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Category: Life
I have a sort of love/hate relationship with my brother. We mainly just
tolerate each other these days, but when we were younger we were pretty
close.
We got up to all kinds of malarkey. We were generally little arsonist, trouble-making, mischievous shits.
Oh yes, we had fun!
I shall try and remember some of the things we've done, and some
classic fights, and recount them on here. This story still makes us
howl with laughter today! I think I've posted it before, but can't be
arsed to dig it out of the archives, so will re-write it:
Egging The Local Psychopath
One of the things we started doing was egging people.
It's much funnier if they can't see who's done it, so we had A Plan.
Bear in mind I was about 8 and him 10, so we could have planned it all
better.
It was late on a warm Summers night, just after dark, when we grabbed a few eggs each from the kitchen.
We went out into the front garden, eyes ablaze and giggling in
anticipation of what was to come. We took up positions behind the hedge
at the top of the garden, and waited. In hindsight, it would probably
have been much wiser not to have done this from our own damn garden,
but at that age, you're immortal, and don't even think about the
possibility you may get in Trouble... or even get caught!
There's a service road on the other side of the hedge, then a steep
grass bank that leads up to the path that runs along the main road,
with a graveyard across the other side.
Yes, from the age of 5, I have lived and slept about 30 feet away from
dead bodies. Before that I was just down the road in a haunted cottage.
It was gauranteed that I'd turn into the sick little monkey that I am
today! Anyway...
A few unknown people walked past on the upper pathway, and we lobbed
eggs over, mortar-style, but our targeting wasn't quite tuned in, and
they missed the targets so badly I don't think they even knew how close
they'd come to an egging.
We were still pissing ourselves, biting our tongues to stay quiet with
tears rolling down our faces, when a local alky woman walked past.
We let rip and ducked back down, and heard her footsteps stop.
Our hearts stopped, and we tried to see through the hedge as she looked
around wildly, shouting out: "OI!!! I know who did that! I'll tell your
Dad!!! Who did that?!"
This was even better! We were Invisible Egg Assassins! The Water Margin and Monkey had nothing on us!
Then someone else was approaching.
We dived back to our positions, eggs at the ready. As he got closer, we
recognised the long black coat, boots and Evil Cloud that could only
belong to The Local Village Psychopath.
My brother lowered his egg, then looked at me. I kept mine raised. His
look turned to horror, as he started to furiously shake his head at me,
obviously still seeing that gleam in my eye.
I waited until he got level with us, and hoofed the egg up and over...
Everything went still and quiet, save for a small eggshell breaking over something soft.
Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiit......
We suddenly weren't invisible! Psycho was staring straight at us as if the hedge wasn't there!
"COME HERE YOU LITTLE CUNTS!!!"
LEG IT!!!!!!!!!!
We moved just about as he started running down the grass bank. It was
probably the scariest moment of my life so far! Not only had he just
roared a C-Word that I don't think I'd ever even heard then ('fock off'
was seen as the pinnacle of swear words), but I will NEVER forget the
quick glimpse I had of that coat flapping around him as he fired
himself towards us!
Think Russell Crowe's 'Hando' from Romper Stomper:
 
I was slightly quicker off the mark than my bro, and Psycho was one fast bugger when killing was on the cards!
I wasn't even at the bottom of the garden (I was in full-on panic and
just trying to get around the back of my house to hide better), when I
heard the tiny voice of my brother somewhere behind me:
"It wasn't me it wasn't me it wasn't me!!!". You've never heard such sorrow, despair and fear in all your life!
I felt bad that my brother was now dead, but felt much better once I'd
cleared the gate and huddled shivering underneath an old mattress in
the outhouse.
After a while, my bro staggered up, pale faced and ill-looking, but not dead.
We never egged anyone after that.
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Wednesday, June 17, 2009
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Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping
Ethical Products - Tough Titty To The Slaves!
There's been a lot of fuss (again) lately about major highstreet shops like Primark getting their stock from Indian sweat-shops.
Everyone cries about how it's exploiting these poor people, and they're paid mere pennies per day, and so we shouldn't buy the stock.
It bothers me how these stupid Nob-heads give a damn.
How the Hell did you think that top you bought was so cheap?
Do you think these shops are giving clothes away?
Here's some very simple business: If you're not making at least 80% profit on an item, it's not worth selling it.
Even when you buy an item in a super-cheap sale, you can rest assured that the business is raking in the profits still. That IS business.
So some poor Indian woman is sewing sequins onto dresses for 56p per day - so what? I bet that woman BEGGED the factory to let her do that job for that wage! So boo-bloody-hoo!
By saying we shouldn't buy such products, you're making the difference between that poor Indian woman making 56p per day and her getting paid absolutely fk-all.
Wake the Hell up!
We don't all live in countries like the UK and US! There are poor countries out there that will always be poor, because there will NEVER be equality in this world, and if you have that dream then go shoot yourself and save us all from your whining pansy crap.
The bottom line is that they can make a -ing shirt and I can't. I pay - they give.
When I can AFFORD to pay top dollar for my clothes, THEN it would be Wrong of me to buy cheap stuff that I know is being made by sweatshop workers. While I'm scraping by then I'm going for the cheap stuff! And God bless them for it!
*waits for the gunshots*
Right.
I live in a better country than those workers, and that's life, I'm afraid. Tough titty to them. Unlucky.
Now, I have a theory about the REAL problem here.
WOMEN.
Men don't buy clothes. Men will buy the absolute bare minimum - we're happy to have t-shirts that are 15 years old, as long as they don't have holes in them (that you can see).
Men will have a pair of trainers, a pair of shoes, and maybe some boots. We may have lots of t-shirts and trousers, but that's just so we can pile the buggers up in the washing basket and not have to worry about it for a few weeks.
Oh no - Men are not contributing to any of this unethical industry stuff.
Women, on the other hand have CREATED this whole situation!
They buy shoes, clothes and handbags like they're stockpiling in case the Earth's natural resources of cotton run out!
I bet every single one of the women reading this has a dress they've bought only to wear once... or a pair of shoes they've never even worn?
And the chances are you bought them because they were a 'bargain', right? So guess how they were able to sell them that cheap?
People making cheap products in sweatshops is always going to happen, because WE want it.
And it's a good thing.
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Friday, June 12, 2009
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Category: Pets and Animals
Anti-Wasp Tactics 2009
[This is a yearly re-post to highlight my ongoing battle]
've told I a previous blog about how I had the shit stung out of me by several wasps in the past, and since then I've waged war on the black and yellow bastards! (oo-err - that sounds racist!)
This morning, after actually getting some decent sleep for once, I was suddenly wide-the-fuck-awake in bed. My clock read 05:30. Son of a biscuit!!!!
After working up a rage over my bodies betrayal, I lay there in the dawn silence and heard the noise which had obviously awoken me.
*BzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz.... BZZZZZZZZzzz... zzzz... ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*
A fucking wasp!!! I swear the little shit had some kind of Wasp Megaphone, too!
The small window was open a fraction, and like some kind of little buzzy Ninja assassin, Cunto The Wasp had crept inside to sting me to death as I slept!
Luckily, the net curtain had foiled his initial attack, and the little runt was bouncing around between the window and the netting.
With a bloodcurdling roar, I tore open the curtains, intent on crushing his head like a miniature grapefruit... only to see him successfully negotiate the netting and fly free into my bedroom sanctuary!
My flesh crawled as he flew straight at my face, my hair stood on end, and I uttered a kind of "Gnnn-argunk!!" sound as I flapped wildly and ducked and dived like Prince Naseem Hamed in his prime fighting days!
Jumping from my bed, I went all chameleon - with one eye tracking Cunto, and the other searching for a suitable Squishing Weapon. Then I realised I was naked!
Now, I've survived wasp attacks before - having been stung on my back, my legs... even my face. They don't hurt as much as people like to have you believe (unless you go into anaphylactic shock like some girly poof - QUITTER!!!).
But the thought of that little leaky barb jabbing into the side-wall of my Japs-Eye, or, heaven forbid, emptying his load deep into my scrotum - was not something I EVER wanted to experience!
I focused my own Magical Ninja Powers, and skilfully Boshi-Kenned the nasty bugger back at the window, where I met his attempt to rise again with a stout troll ornament and cracked his thorax like a dropped M&M.
Well, ok - maybe I flapped my hands around like I was signing the commentary to a deaf audience - but it still had the same end result.
Mission accomplished.
My extensive knowledge of the enemy has taught me that wasps emit a distress pheromone which could attract others to his corpse, so I closed the window and gave the carcass a quick "AHHHHHHH!!!!!!" to show it who was the Daddy.
I'm sure this conflict will be repeated over the coming months, as happens every Summer. What can I do?
Is there some substance the little buzzy buggers hate that I could smear around the sides of an open window and they wouldn't want to get past? Fire is tempting, but not a practical option.
There must be a way. The battle lines are drawn, and I need to prepare my tactics to ensure my survival!
I shall fight them on the window ledges!!!!
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Thursday, June 11, 2009
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Category: Automotive
Flashing Blue Skylines and Daily Ramblings
Last night I finished work and donned my biking armour ready for the jaunt back home. Much the same as my morning run, this is an excuse for me to have as much fun as possible, and something that i always look forward to.
As I pulled out of the car park and up to the island outside work, I filtered to the front of the traffic up to this sight:
Ooh yeah! I've loved the Nissan Skyline right from first seeing it in Gran Tourismo on the Playstation. What man doesn't? They're still very few and far between over here, and it's always a pleasure to see them on the roads.
As I filtered towards this on I heard the revs rise to Naughty Boy levels, and thought he had probably seen me in his mirrors and either wanted to play or try and prove something to me. As I'd never got to ride with one driven in anger, I liked the look of this!
I held back rather than pull up alongside him, and just as I did he let the clutch out, and in an instant cloud of rubber smoke he blasted forwards with all four wheels spinning, the car dropping down on it's haunches as it shot forwards...
And I thought "You Tithead" as he then slithered to a halt about 2ft later, narrowly avoiding being t-boned by the car that was coming.
The next time he did the same again, and he'd waited until the road was clear this time (bear in mind this is during the full-on rush hour commute with loads of cars everywhere), and as he shot off at max speed I casually pulled off behind him using half revs on cold tyres, having to brake so as not to run into the back of him.
He then undertook and overtook everything he could around the island, looking and sounding very impressively like something out of an action movie.
I calmly rode behind him waiting for the accident, eventually changing up to second gear as he reached the dual carriageway...
A lot of the time I wish I had a camera rigged up to my bike so you buggers could see the kind of stuff I see on a regular day! Admittedly, most of the drama is usually served up exclusively by little old me all on my own... But then there are some complete Nobbers out there who would see themselves and have to admit they shouldn't be on the roads because they're too -ing dangerous. And in almost every case speeding would not be a factor at all.
why the Hell we're so jumpy about speeding being so deadly is beyond me! It's the fuck-tards who just aren't paying attention to the world around them that are the ones more likely to cause fatal acidents! People speeding are at least usually focused on staying on the road and avoiding everything!
Anyway, there is a time and a place to speed safely. That Nissan last night? No way!
But pootling behind him and still keeping up so effortlessly was just one more moment that made me appreciate what I have.
I don't have the words to describe the performance of litre superbikes! They're so stupidly fast - so much faster than anything else on the roads! Mine is a 10 year old 'sports tourer' that's allegedly slow by the standards of the bikes from the last 5 years... and yet I still see 60mph from a standing start in around 2 seconds!
I can literally pull straight out into passing traffic between two cars with no drama at all! I make a game of it! You know how you have a walking speed, and you reach that full speed pretty much with your first step as you set off? That's the best way I can describe the way my bike gets up to speed.
I'm a lucky bastard!
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Tuesday, June 09, 2009
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Category: News and Politics
Anti-Facist Protesters Egg Politician Because, Err... They Don't Want To Hear His Views!
I'm sure most of you know about this story by now. If you don't then here's a link that's no doubt got the video somewhere:
Right, so a bunch of stinking hippies pelted the BNP candidate with eggs when he was giving a talk.
He wasn't 'sieg heil'ing or anything, and I don't think there were any burning crosses around. There may have been a few skinheads in Bother Boots and red braces - but they get everywhere, don't they, the little scamps!
The BNP is a bit like our version of the US Ku Klux Klan - only we don't have all the white hoods, pickup trucks, nor chewing tobacco. Or they're like the NF in France, although I suspect they're harder to spot as they no doubt still ride bicycles with onions strung around their necks. Maybe they just don't have the black stripes on their black and white stripy tops?
The way I've generally seen the BNP is as a bunch of football (that's 'Soccer') hooligans. Although in these modern times people would have us believe that they are the friendly face of racism. They want England for the English, with severe limitations on letting any imigrants into the country, and allegedly this means they want England to be full of only white people or 'Honkeys'.
Now, being serious for a brief moment here, I have to say that whilst I disagree with many of their policies, there are also many of them that make much more sense than any other party, and I am fully in support of them. And bear in mind that I'm a quarter Polish with Polish family who are imigrants living in the UK.
Something that does strike me is that all any of the other parties have to say is "The BNP are racist/facist/whateverist" and that is the end of ANY discussion.
Nobody ever seems to say "Wait a minute! Aren't you their opposition? Aren't you the ones trying to slur the reputations and policies of every other party, too?". But the 'Racist' card kills any argument or sensible thoughts stone dead every time.
Even more ironically in this specific Egg Attack is that it is these so-called Anti-Facist Campaigners who are silencing this man because they don't want to listen to his views!
So, umm... that will make the Anti-Facist Campaigners... facists???
Ah. I'm not sure they thought that one through, did they?!
So I may not agree with everything the BNP have to say, but I will defend to the death their right to say it! I can make up my own fucking mind, thank you very much!
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Tuesday, June 09, 2009
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Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Back When Movies Needed YOU!
I was born in 1977, so grew up in the golden time of movies.
I got to see all the 80s classics like ET, Ferris Buellers Day Off and The Breakfast Club first hand (although about 5 years after they were on at the cinema because that's just the way it was. Can you remember that? Nobody had a video cassette(!!?!) player and even if they did it would literally be YEARS until cinema releases went to tape! And then years after that before most of us got to see them on TV! Now I get most releases before they're on at the cinema!!! Ahem, anyway, enough of this side-tracking stuff - back to the blog...).
I know some are arguing that the 'classics' were all before this blah blah Monroe, Mansfield, Charlie Manson (ok, maybe not HER) - but I'm talking about the golden time of Movie Special Effects. Even more so, the fact that they weren't all that good - so the film HAD to have a good storyline.
That's gone now. Effects are so good that it can all be done on computers that are decidedly better than an Atari 2600, and they look real. Real enough, apparently, that without them a film is rubbish.
I watched Terminator the other night and it was shocking how bad the effects were! I remember everyone was raving about them at the time! I had a similar experience watching Robocop - the ED-209 animation is all jerky and looks so fake if a modern film tried using it it would be laughed into oblivion.
But it didn't matter - we used our IMAGINATION to fill in the visual gaps! Fancy that!?
We never even used to mind doing that back then!
And have you watched Sinbad or Jason And The Argonauts lately? You must have! They're on every Bank Holiday! Check out those monsters and skeletons! Did they used to scare us and get us all excited??
Now we have crap like the James Bond movies which seem to rely solely on having 'great' special effects in high definition...
On a lighter note, this morning I went to unlock my chain on my bike and instead found my hand wrapping around teh cold, fluffy body of a dead rat - covered in some unknown animals saliva.
Which was 'nice'. Yeah, thanks for that God, you clever Tit.
*gestures rudely at the sky with his plague-ridden rat-picker-upper hand*
I'm hoping that doesn't set the tone for my day...
So are there any movies you love with crap effects? What do you think watching them now?
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Monday, June 01, 2009
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Category: Life
Confessions Of A Nasty Evil Ninja, Aged 8 1/2
I have several incomplete blogs 'in the pipeline' (wait, does that mean 'up my arse'? If it does than that's not what I mean at all!), including at least one that will be all about the Little Shit that was me.
Before I get down to all the nice, rose-tinted memories, a thread today on a bike site got me opening up. It should be noted that I seem to be the only one so far who's actually done this. Anyway, the thread was about confessing to something you did back when you were a kid that you've never actually come clean about.
It has to be said that although I got caught red handed for a lot of stuff, I also managed to, in the words of Red, "crawl through a mile fo shit and come out clean the other end".
So today, before Jesus (or some elephant-headed dude or whatever your beliefs want you to picture), I am going to confess:
The Red (Reliant) Robin
When I was around 8, I regularly had wars with Tommy Morris from down the road. I justify most of my actions because he was a greasy, stiggy kid who had a yellow dog whose mouth he used to urinate into. And he once pointed an air rifle at my head at point blank range and threatened to shoot me. Ok, ok, so that came after I'd sent him to hospital three times after splitting his head open by pistol whipping him with a metal cowboy gun (err... twice), and pushing him down a very steep grass bank on a toy tractor.
On this particular hot Summers day, we were sat on the kerb at the side of the road lobbing stones at each other. I'm not sure how we never got injured by this, but I remember this being a pretty common occurence.
Anyway, I hoofed a great big rock towards him... I should probably have mentioned that during this rock-chucking malarkey, we didn't bother going somewhere that, you know, didn't have any stray kittens or puppies who could get caught up and injured in their innocence. Or, say, your neighbours pride and joy car: a red Reliant Robin three-wheeler. How this vehicle never got overturned by hordes of jeering Big Kids during the night is beyond me. Perhaps it was actually semi-cool back in those days?
But this big hoofing rock sailed straight towards the greasy skinned birds nest of hair that was Tommy, threatening to once again crack his skull and send him into his merry slumber towards the A&E. Except my eight year old spastic hands (this was a good 6 years before I became a Quarterback of Redditch Arrows Youth Team) flung this projectile straight into the side window of the car.
There was the moment of the whole world being silent just to amplify the sound of glass shattering, and then another brief moment as I locked eyes with Tommy in open-mouthed terror before we both legged it home as fast as we could to Dob The Other Kid in. As I'd actually thrown it, he had more reason to do this, technically - but the way I see it he was throwing stones at me too, and could just have easily been the one to smash the window. So I swore blind it was him!
Our parents were soon called, and payment for the window was made before the Police were called... I think I did have to pay for it, but I still swore it was Tommy.
Shoplifting
This was a part of growing up for most of us. One day, probably aged 10 ish, I got caught.
All I'd done was eased some big squishy ball thing out of it's already damaged package, and as I turned for the door the shopkeepers hand fell on my shoulder, and I was led into the back room while the Police were called. I sat there bravely in defiance and blubbed like a girl until they arrived to take me home...
As it turned out, the shopkeeper had already caught about 10 other little Scrotes just like me that day, so I think I got the hard treatment. This also gave me enough ammo to claim he'd been far too jumpy and nabbed me for no reason...
I was let off with a Warning, and to be honest it put an end to a nice little shoplifting run I'd been having! Oh yes, the blow was softened a lot because I'd already nicked all the rare Action Force figures I wanted from the vehicle boxes in Macro...
A Good Deed?
Probably somewhere between the two above, I did the Good Deed of knocking on a neighbours door to tell him that one of his cars tyres was flat.
I was praised by him and my parents, but I think in the eyes of God this Good Deed was probably somewhat marred by the fact that, err... It was ME who'd let all the air out of his tyre...
Eggcellent Shot!
This story is due for a re-post because it's one of my favourites, but I'll do a quick recap here simply because there was very nearly death involved.
My big bro and I found it was very funny if we hid behind the hedge in our front garden and lobbed eggs at passersby. It was funny when an old lady got hit and started ranting that she knew who it was and she was telling our Dad - while we hid there giggling and watching her quite clearly not knowing who it was!
So I had to take things one step further...
When the local Village Psychopath came stomping along, and my brother pleaded with me not to do it, I of course pulled off the indirect fire shot of a lifetime, and managed to hit him. I then legged it extremely quickly and left my big bro to try and convince the raving mad beast of a man that he probably shouldn't twist his head off on account of his innocence...
The Valentines Day Massacre
This one most of you should know because of my blog earlier this year.
I fancied a girl at school for ages, and when I was around 12 I finally plucked up the courage to send her a Valentines Day card. But in my twisted little mind I thought the best way to do this would be to cut the letters out of a newspaper and stick them to the card with celotape - much as you might expect a demented kidnapper to do for a ransom note.
I then compounded my idiotic numptiness by lying to her face and telling her it wasn't me when she asked... Uhhh...
I did remedy this one earlier this year by finally admitting it was me in an email that I sent to her!
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So how about you lot?
Got something you want to get off your chest?
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Thursday, May 28, 2009
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Category: Sports
"Why Are You Hitting Yourself In The Face?"
Ahh, the words uttered by many an older sibling as they hold your arms, making you smack yourself in your face.
Can you remember how frustrated you were? Can you imagine trying your best to pound someone's face in and only succeeding in hurting yourself?
Because it's very easy to do!
Body mechanics of humans are both amazingly simple and mind-numbingly complex. It takes very basic knowledge to see when someone is off balance and to know that if you push them really gently just THERE, then they'll come a right cropper. Whenever humans are moving (or fighting), we are essentially off balance, so it's just a case of being able to exploit this.
I found body mechanics were always mystified in most martial arts. When they did touch on them, it was in a stiff, structured way - "They will hit like THIS and you will block like THIS" - which was about as much use as a dog in a canoe. It wasn't until I studied fluid arts like Ninjitsu and Systema that it was all made so simple and blindingly obvious! Actually, to give Wing Chun it's due, 'Chi Sau' or 'Sticky Hands' (oo-err!) made good use of this, too.
Another of the most valuable thins I ever learnt was that if you ever lose your balance simply drop your weight. No - not go on a diet! I mean BEND YOUR KNEES! This lowers your centre of gravity and your balance will recover. And it it doesn't then you're closer to the floor when you fall over!
It's natural to all of us. If some 5 year old kid hopped up on sugar jumps full force onto your lap, you know instinctively (providing you're not still holding a hot cup of coffee and a plate of buffet food), that if you squirm about slightly it will deflect most of the impact and hopefully your pink bits will survive without being crushed by little spiky knees and elbows.
If Uncle Knobhead has been pissing you off all night with his drunken wedding reception ways, when he staggers and falls into you for the fourth time you'll know instinctively that if you subtly deflect him then he'll go crashing down in a heap on the floor.
The trick to most fights is to use as little effort as you possibly can to completely destroy your opponent. The easier you can win, the more energy you have left to leg it before all their mates catch up with you and give you the good news.
I used to practise this stuff by winding my dog up so she'd be jumping at me and trying to bite me, and with the smallest, relaxed movement I'd deflect her and stay out of harms way. Lill Boo has opposable thumbs and more anger than most wound-up dogs, but the same techniques work against her, too.
"So stop blathering on and tell us what the easiest moves are, Nasty Evil Ninja!"
I will.
The problem with deflecting someone and making them fall over, is that if they do get really mad they'll fight harder to kill you. They may run out of energy or smash their noggin on a bar stool, but you can't really count on this unless you really know what you're doing.
I've said before that the best way is to use your natural defence - which in most people will be to try and cover your head up when someone's punching you in the mouth. Adapting this slightly will leave your elbows sticking out pointing towards the attacker. If the attacker punches you on the point of the elbow with any force then it will snap their fingers or hand or even their wrist. This same defence works if you're on the ground being kicked - you just direct your pointy elbows at their shins as they kick.
If you break their hand, then they won't want to punch you with it again, and this is a Good Thing. The fight will go right out of most people when they break their hand - giving you the opportunity to run the fk away. And you haven't even had to fight!
I'm not an advocate of kicking men in the balls. If you manage to do this, then a lot of the time the man knows he has a few seconds before the pain will drop him, and so he'll use that time to bite your eyeballs out of your head. Fighting someone in a bezerker frenzy for even a few short seconds can leave you in all kinds of trouble (and pain).
Another nice easy target is the eyes. It's harder to poke them in the eyes if they're flinging their fists at you, but if they've grabbed you then get poking!
None of this one or two fingered stuff, either! Put all your fingers together and ram the lot into their eyes. You don't need to gouge someone's eye out to end the fight - just a small scratch on their eyeball will stop most people dead, and they certainly won't be up to running after you when you try to get away!
Are you expecting lots more fancy moves? Tough titty! I'm aiming this blog at people with no knowledge of fighting, and no confidence to perform physical violence. Nice and simple stuff that will work against anyone.
Hopefully you'll never need it - but if you do then I hope you remember!
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Wednesday, May 27, 2009
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Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping
Doh!!!
As Mr Hanky Poo might say:
Hi de-hiiiiiiiiii!
I'm not dead, contrary to popular opinion, but I haven't had much will to bugger about on here lately. This is a mixture of work and 'doing other stuff' and whatever else I can get away with as an excuse.
As Summer's here, at the weekend six of us on dirty great big superbikes headed right down accross the country for a few days hooning around the Isle of Wight annoying the locals. It was bloody marvellous!
I already knew three of the others, and made pretty good friends with the other two, as well. We had a right laugh, with one of the others being a Right Funny Fkr and coming out with almost constant jokes! His highlight was probably walking down the street with really dark glasses on pretending to be blind, tapping the road with a stick! That was all on film but we seem to have lost the footage.... We had planned to have him get off the bike and do it, but ran out of time.
The Isle Of Wight is lovely - we had great weather and all the people are very friendly and laid-back even when a group of bikers are sat farting and telling rude jokes in their pubs.
And of course there was lots of riding. LOTS. Over 500 miles in the three days we had, actually. No knee-downs for me, because some of the roads were smooth and awesome, but others were so rough we all got launched about 6ft in the air at one point. My trusty steed showed me it really does not like bumpy roads - much to the amusement of the others behind me who got to see what looked like a Muppett tied to a bucking bronco!
Good times!
But on to the 'Doh!!!':
I recently bought a ground anchor off Ebay. Well, not THAT recently because the bugger should have been here weeks ago!
I decided to send the seller a nice mail before going over there and *puts on his best Noo Joisey accent* kickin' tha fokkin bums mouth open!
I learnt a lesson, here. You should always make sure that when you're emailing your 'seller', that you are looking at your 'Bought' list rather than the items in your 'Watching' list.
Here are the emails that followed:-------------
Dear 1st-harrison,
Hi, This item still hasn't arrived yet. Can you confirm that it has been shipped? Thanks - James
- nastyevilninja
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Dear nastyevilninja,
Hi there,
I don't think you've bought from us.
Regards,
Richard
- 1st-harrison
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Dear 1st-harrison,
Ack!
You're absolutely right! Sorry - must have clicked on my watch list
rather than the bought one... I feel like some kind of cheap, evil
Nigerian scammer now... =o(
- nastyevilninja
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Dear nastyevilninja,
Excellent!! I was thinking the same thing!
Cheers,
Richard
- 1st-harrison
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Wednesday, May 20, 2009
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Category: News and Politics
Guy Fawkes Politics
Kin ell, I've written three words and already bored myself!
'Politics'.
What a bunch of arse!
Not many things turn me off as quickly and fully as those words. The only time politics ever grabs my attention is when it's so fucking stupid that even a palsied monkey could have made better decision which way to throw his shit.
It annoys me.
The bits that don't annoy me about politics don't annoy me for the sole reason that I ignore them!
Fuck them all, the dithering, power-hungry, self-obsessed, tit-holes!
Nobody becomes a politician to 'make a difference'.
Nobody does it to improve the lives of people.
They all do it to make a shitload of money and have the power of the people.
I've never felt more like cattle than when listening to the latest bullshit policy that's been put through 'in my best interest'. We don't get a say for shit - hell, I doubt even THEY do in most cases!
People have the nerve to talk shit to me if I don't vote.
"Oh, well if you don't vote you can't complain!"
Yes I fucking CAN! Vote for what? They're all the same - all equal in lies and I honestly don't want ANY of the fuckers in power! So why the hell should I even vote for the party likely to fuck up my life the least?
Not gonna happen!
You know how good a job I've done of ignoring it all? I'm not even sure I know who the PM is now. Gordon Brown? I know Blair fucked off and someone else took over. I don't know who leads the other parties, and I don't care. What difference will it make to me? My voice won't be heard by any of them, and I'll do what I'm told just like everyone else - no matter who's telling us to do it.
So it's with great pleasure that with some voting coming up, and all our politicians 'in the shit' for claiming money off us for swimming pools, extra homes, and porn, that thoughts around this time of year turn to one of my personal hero's:
Guido 'Guy' Fawkes.
He gets my vote any day of the week. The single greatest politician who ever lived.
Blow all the fuckers up.
*starts humming 'Roll Out The Barrel' to himself*
Incidentally, as an added bonus, it's thought that the amount of gunpowder he used would not only have took out the Houses Of Parliament, but a considerably huge chunk of London, too!
As I -ing hate London, this is a Good Thing.
Please note that I am in no way condoning terrorist attacks, I just think we'd be better off if we nerve-gassed all the bullshit Politicians.
Nice try, Guy.
FIRE IT UP!
FIRE IT UP!
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Thursday, May 14, 2009
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Category: Parties and Nightlife
Snoring
The other night, I was very rudely awakened by the sound of some inconsiderate cunt-monkey sawing up wood at 3am.
Then I realised it was me!
It never used to happen. Then it would happen occasionally if I drank. Then occasionally if I had a cold or allergies.
I was still blissfully unaware of it, for the most part at this stage.
Now it's pretty much official, as I keep waking myself up - I snore.
There are several types of snore, apparently. Some people snore because of their nasal sinuses, and most because of the soft pallet in their mouth vibrates because it's too... err... soft.
I think the main cause of mine is down to being a fat bastard.
My brother always used to snore big-time. We shared a room for years, which would result regularly in me getting up in the middle of the night, stumbling delicately and silently through the darkness up to his bed, and then giving his mattress a hoofing great kick.
Sometimes he stopped snoring for just the amount of time it took me to creep back through the darkness, finding that very pointy Star Wars figure with my bare feet, and fall into bed after smacking my knees on the bedpost - then, THEN he'd carry on snoring.
Other times he'd wake right up, sit bolt upright and stare at me accusingly as if I'd just kicked his bed hard enough to launch him a good 12" into the air (which you're damned right I had, you machine-mouthed bastard!).
But now as it's becoming a problem for me, I should try and do something about it.
I'm convinced the best cure will be to loose weight. No doubt my big fat neck is full of bacon and Mars Bars which block my breathing at night and make me snore. If I lose a stone or two then it might fix it... only that's not exactly easy to do when my only exercise is riding a big fast superbike and having Wild Monkey Sex with Lill Boo.
So what else is there? Tying ping-pong balls to my back isn't an option. Partly because I think that's bullshit and I rarely sleep on my back anyway, and partly because this would mean, literally, stitching a ball onto the bare skin of my back. Nu-huh!
Herbal cures... well let's face it - they're bullshit made up by rich hippies and taken by stupid rich yuppies. Screw them all and their fancy Holland & Barrett sweaters.
I shall be buying one of the nasal spray things that coats your soft pallet in Nonoxynolembryotitsandassis or whatever and stops it vibrating. If that doesn't work I shall have to rip out my soft pallet with a knitting needle. And I don't even know anyone who's knitted in the last 40 years, so this would probably mean it would be rusty too.
Are you a snorer?
Even better, are you a Reformed Snorer, and if so how did you fix it?
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Wednesday, May 13, 2009
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Category: Food and Restaurants
Continental Breakfast Dilemma
I think it's a 'European' thing. You go on holiday and your hotel offers you the Continental Breakfast thing.
This is usually laid out as a grab-all-you-can buffet with sliced ham, sliced processed cheese, croissants and normal bread. There will probably be other stuff there like natural yoghurt, jam, butter - and if you're really lucky(?) you might find scrambled eggs or something they call 'bacon' which bloody well isn't! Oh, and there's usually some cereal stuff for Hippies.
Now, with a Full English Breakfast, it's nice and straight-forward in that you have a plate full of bacon, eggs, sausage, mushroom etc, and you eat it. Job jobbed.
I have to come clean and admit to you all here that I have no idea how you're supposed to eat a Continental Breakfast.
There's the English part of me telling me that sliced stuff like the ham and cheese HAS to go on a sandwich. It's like an inbred OCD that tries to stop me eating sliced stuff straight off my plate - somehow I recognised this early on and refuse to make breakfast sandwiches from this stuff.
Plus a lot of the time all you get is some light fluffy croissants which are impossible to cut open - let alone spread with anything or load them up with sliced stuff!
Do any of you know what you're SUPPOSED to do with this???
To confuse things even more, in Prague there was also some hot vegetables available - they looked like cauliflower and carroty things on my brief, disgusted inspection. What's THAT about?
And I'm still scarred from my last Spanish experience where they were catering to the Brits Abroad crowd by offering chips and tomato sauce with the breakfasts...
*shudders*
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