Monthly Archives: October 2014

Flange – A word of beauty and hidden meaning.

Recovering from my ‘I hate Florida’ rant of the other day, I am looking forward to Colorado next weekend and hoping that it will revive my faith in human nature on this side of the pond.

Today, I would like to invite you all to discuss the following statement…

If your ball sack hangs lower than your bell end, is this a sign of age or a sign of a warm ambient temperature ?

I will leave you to chew that one over for a while (poor choice of expression I am sure).

I am also wondering about the street cleaners here that use leaf blowers.  All I ever see is these guys wandering around blowing leaves.  I never see anyone scooping them up.  Am I actually watching a guy that has blown those leaves down from Alaska, across California, through Death Valley, across Texas Louisiana and Mississippi before stopping for a burger in Alabama and then pushing across the state line into Florida?  Better still, are they even this seasons leaves?  I wonder.

I also wonder about the veeeee-hickles they use over here and the amount of flashing lights they have on them. School buses I can understand, Police, Fire and Paramedics I get that too – Park Rangers?  really?  Parking Enforcement Officers – why? Postal deliveries – come on.  I even saw a golf buggy the other day with strobe lights flashing all over the place.  It seems every veeeeee hickle has them and for me it de-sensitises you to them – but not the yanks of course.  Put a delivery truck on a half mile long and straight section of dual carriageway, all lights flashing while it is unloading and watch the locals drive all the way up to the back of it until their noses are pressed on the light lenses before they realise it’s not moving and they need to change lanes.  First class!

That’ll do for now, I need to find a Donnie Darko Skeleton suit for Halloween


That is one big nasty gash!

That is one big nasty gash!


WTF Americuh – it’s like so whatever – OMG OMG OMG

Lets get this monster moan out of the way immediately.

Tonight I went to a place called Markham Park with my mountain bike and one of the crew from the boat in front of us.  When we got there, I was in trouble – no helmet!  If I am honest, I never wear one, my choice, and many of you say it is a stupid choice I know, wearing a helmet hasn’t done much for Mr. Schumacher now has it.  In fact if you believe the press, wearing a helmet with a go pro attached has caused all of his damage, but that is for another posting.

Anyway – when we got there, signed everywhere, helmets mandatory. I pushed ahead – fearful that at any point someone would call in SWAT and have them waiting for me at the exit gate, lights flashing, tear gas popping, military spec hardware ready to take me down as they shout ‘stop resisting – stop resisting’, helicopters buzzing overhead, drones tracking my every move and a bright orange jump suit with hand and ankle shackles and a private jet direct to Guantanamo Bay – the fucking pricks!

After around 30 minutes on the trails, I had heard enough – every muppet that we met would tell me I should be wearing a helmet – every one of them.  I am sure in bars, homes and internet chat rooms all over Florida tonight, there will be wide assed yanks talking about the criminally insane English man that rode Markham without a skid lid.  For fucks sake – leave me alone you twats !  One kind local offered to cycle us out to the exit so that we didn’t threaten their cycling privileges.

The biggest bollocks of it all – they weren’t black runs you soft Floridian cunts – some of them vaguely resembled red runs – VAGUELY! but dare to call them black?  No wonder the black community get annoyed with white americans – they don’t know what black is !

As you might have noticed from tonight’s post, I am a little peeved – actually that is an understatement – I am very annoyed, close to livid even.  I will be very glad to see the back of ‘America – fuck Yeah’ in 7 weeks time.  My only hope is that when I get away from Florida later this month, being somewhere more rugged like Colorado might restore my faith in the stars and stripes.  We will be there over Halloween, maybe I should have some fun with that to relieve the pain of today?


I can’t be bothered to write any more

Una Paloma Blanca !

If there are a few things I have learned in my near on 45 years on this planet, Algebra, Trigonometry and Transposition of Formulas are not three of them – although I will be attempting to learn those again early next year.

No, but I have learned a few things, specifically this week, I have been learning about Gym things – let me share them with you.

1. Why do people drive to the gym to then use a running machine?  How about you run to the gym, don’t go in, turn around and run home.  Saving yourself the gym membership and the cost of fuel in your 5.0 ltr V8 monster truck and getting a run out in the real world!

2. Better still, why the hell would you go to the Gym to use a step machine?  How about you head to the pikey flats around the corner and climb the stairs to the top (guaranteed the lift will be out-of-order or at least stinking of piss so much you wont want to use it).  If you really want to hot things up, you can knock on the drug dealers door and tell him you are selling on his patch, then see who can make it to the 12th floor first.

3.  The Gym is not a social club – Social Clubs are for socialising so go there instead.  There is nothing worse than watching a 50 something man, cheesing all over the women in the gym, leave them alone !  One guy at my gym, gets off his machine and gets onto the one next to the chicks and then constantly talks to them, worse still, he talks across the gym to them too, so I have to hear it over my headphones.

4.  If you are one of those women that likes the attention of the cheesing saddo’s mentioned above – please bear in mind that if you put as much effort into your workout as you do talking to the Cheese Meister – your arse would be half the size it actually is.  With a smaller, lighter arse, your big 5.0 ltr V8 monster truck won’t use quite so much fuel and you will be more attractive to less cheesier options.

5. Lastly but by no means least – NEVER FART IN THE GYM.  People are breathing hard, the last thing I need is to have to chew the eggy air around me after someone has dropped their guts in front of the vent for the air conditioning. What is wrong with you fucktards ?


There, moan over.  I got my first puncture on my new bike this weekend.  Quite a hefty one too

IMG_0634 IMG_0636


And if that wasn’t enough for me, I also found some Chimay Blue for my troubles




Now all said and done – the beer went down well with a Pizza – and me still weighing in at a pokey 88kgs !!  I am still left wondering how I managed to pick up suck a big nail on a bike tyre (sorry ‘tire’ for any yanks reading) but as a kid, I could always find punctures too – thankfully I was taught well on how to fix them.

Boulder, Colorado is drawing closer although I saw on the news today in the Gym while rowing hard and chewing eggy air that there was heavy snow on the mountains.  We have a saying on boats – there is no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes.  Well, I have one lightweight army jacket with me and 4 T-shirts (5 if you include the so I might struggle a bit.

There, I think I am done for the evening, just want to leave you with a footnote.  In the 70’s when I hit the social club scene pretty hard with the parents, there was a song that everyone sang. Una Paloma Blanca. Turns out Paloma is spanish for Pidgeon, all this time they were singing about a white Pidgeon and I bet no-one knew.  If you need help remembering the song, check out the link below, turn up the volume, roll down your flares and file me under groovey.

Ah, rocking the Bedworth Working Mens Club, Radae Club, Roots at Ryton – man alive they were the days – Brownsover Social Club

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