Tag Archives: radio 1

Tripping Twig Syndrome

Plenty of news to share with you this time, I know its been a while since my last post – deal with it !

The Great North Run has seen fit to give me two entries for this years event.  In June, I will be running in the 10k event, come September, I will be in the Half Marathon.  I accidentally upped my distance today in preparation for those events.  I left Rupert’s house in Cawston heading across the fields in the general direction of Draycote Water.  I was told it was 5k around the lake and with the extra bit getting there and coming back, I was expecting a healthy 10k hop.

I stopped for an emergency poo at the club house there, and was a tad bemused to see the runkeeper already at 9.1km.  By the time I was done, it was a 14.7km run or close to 10 miles – turns out that Rupert was talking miles when he said 10, I was thinking in kilometers.

Both of those Great North Runs are televised so be sure to tune in and shout some encouragement at your screen – don’t worry what your neighbours think – better still, get them shouting too.

The bird has accepted a job in England so the last few weeks have been spent finding a pad for her to move to – all done now and the move should be complete by the weekend – now all she needs to do is learn to drive on the right side of the road – the left !!

More details will follow in private dispatches.

Lets talk about twig tripping for a moment.  It’s a new phenomenon for me, which is surprising considering the amount of cross-country work I have done in my life.  Twig tripping happens when one of your feet hits the ground and catches the end of a twig or stick.  Because you have hit the end of the twig, the other end gets lifted up off the floor by a few inches.  This lift coincides with your opposing foot moving forward to take the next step when it meets the uplifted end of the stick, normally around where your shoe laces criss cross at the front of your shoe – then you have a problem, one foot on the ground behind you, the other jammed along side it while you have 5 or 6mph of forward motion.  If you are lucky, the twig doesn’t get tangled in your laces criss cross and your foot can slip around and off the end of the twig and plant firmly with a thud as you recover.  Worse case scenario is the twig gets jammed up in the laces and there is no escape other than face planting.

Not only is it catching me out at the moment, but I have seen others having exactly the same problems – which leads me to believe that there is a new breed of twig with the sole purpose of exterminating the human race by face plant or puddle suffocation

Puddle suffocation is a subject I will cover at a later date.

I was pleasantly surprised to hear a new Prodigy song last week and even more happy to pre-order their album for release later this month.  I was saddened to hear that Zane Lowe is leaving Radio 1 but am extremely curious as to what he is going to be doing at Apple. When I left the UK back in 2004, Zane had just recently started with Radio 1 and was shaking up the establishment and bringing a new breed of music to the airwaves.  I did have a blast on Radio 2 the other week too – Jo Whiley.  I remember listening to Jo way back in the early 90’s when she did the ‘Evening Sessions’ with Steve Lamaq – they were responsible for introducing me to Radio Head and the junkie slut tones of Courtney Love and Hole.

Almost time for Top Gear


In the arse end of nowhere

I had a new Italian teacher last night, so that makes a total of two in two lessons.  Not that I am scaring them off but I have since figured out that it is one teacher for language, another teacher for hand gestures.

That aside, I also figured something else out today.  This morning over breakfast, I treated myself to a little Amy Winehouse from her time on Jools Holland.  Way back in 2004, she was quite sweet and innocent, tattoo free and a fuller figure – her voice, purely magical.  A couple of songs later and the year was 2006,  the tattoos started to appear, the weight dropping, that glazed unfocused stare and of course in the background the worthless shite of a boyfriend.

Then over lunch, I happened across a BeeGees in concert movie so I stuck that on and we got to talking about the two brothers that had died.  It then hit me – you can tell how old you are by how many dead artists you have in your music library. I bet everyone has a bit of Lou Reed right? Jimmi Hendrix, Beatles, Nirvana, Joplin, Marley,Presley,Bolan, Beastie Boys, Barry White,  they very quickly add up. I would like to tell you now just how many dead artists are in my library but fear of knowing the true figure stops me counting.

Of course, it got me thinking about Winehouse. Being a hard arse, I have little sympathy for her way of life but I do fully appreciate the staggering loss of talent when she departed. I also remember when Cobain decided to take his head off with a shot gun, I never understood why. I am sure that will remain eternally unanswered but then one night many years ago while in bed in Abbey Street I was listening to Radio 1, before it got shite.  Back in the day (at 44, I am old enough to use that phrase, not like some of the spotty teens on the streets)   the evening was filled with Bob Harris (deceased) Nicky Campbell and of course the late and very very great John Peel.  Peel was hosting a show on Cobain and finished off with words along the line of feeling like he could have helped, invited him into his house to be looked after and helped through their problems – and I can’t help but think Peel was right, better still, there are many of us that would have volunteered our services to help to keep such talent alive.

But enough of that crap

Lets talk about my friend Rupert – or ‘Poopie Pants’ as he is known in Portugal.  During a recent stay in England, I talked Poopie into doing the Park Run with me on saturday morning (thank you Horley for the tip off).  For those of you unfamiliar with the Park Run, it is a weekly event ran by volunteers across the UK and 7 other countries (including S.A. Lexa) where you can run a 5k track, be timed and have your times analysed and compared by world record times, age, sex etc.   While out on a run on the prior wednesday evening, I was accompanied by the aforementioned Poopie and as we got talking I suggested he do the Parkrun with me on Saturday.  He actually agreed, I was agast and he was regretful almost instantly.  Building up to the saturday, he started to look grumpy about doing it but I kept pushing him until at 9am on an autumnal Saturday morning, the flag was dropped and we were off.  My previous 3 runs had all been personal bests and I knew I would be pushing it if I were to to another.

I never of course, I posted my slowest time ever of 23:53 but was very impressed to see Poopie coming in around 1:15 seconds behind me as a first attempt.  Now I have to admit at the time it was a bit of an eye opener.  I run a lot and I was aware that I need to pick up my pace but seeing this fucker post a time like this with a complete lack of training gave me a kick in the nuts that I needed. I did take some comfort in the fact that despite all of his moaning and groaning about not being a competitive person before the event, he did actually really enjoy it.

Since then, I can see his Runkeeper times are very respectable and I have no doubt that Poopie will be busting his nuts to get a better time than me next time we go, so I am upping the ante and have pegged a 7km course here in Genoa to ‘train’ on for my next 5k.  First time out tonight was under 35 minutes with mild poo cramps toward the end but expect that time to tumble as I naturally get quicker and time my toilet drops to perfection


Snow In Your Beard

Don’t get confused with the classic ‘Informer’ from the early 90’s http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqCI6QGVHIk&feature=related

But yesterday, I realised I had quite a few areas of snow in my beard.  Now, having snow on top would normally mean a man is turning into a man of distinction but snow in your beard with no snow on top must relate to some form of alpine ecstasy.  Better still, there are the obvious red extrusions too – a rampant revelation of multi coloured swap shop – Noel Edmonds would be so proud on many levels.

Enough nonsense.  I have been sitting in Southampton for a few days now – Oral exams looming tomorrow.  Being a brave sort, I decided to head deep into the city for the weekend, not my usual habitat for sure.  Always good though, to brush up on observation skills.  I also needed to buy a new suit for tomorrows melee into the MCA offices down here.

For the more connected with me, you will be fully aware of my recent change in regime and subsequent weight loss.  I say subsequent when really I mean substantial.  Hitting the dizzy heights of 18 1/2 stones late last year (around 116kgs to Europeans) and a lardy waist size of 40″ I decided enough as enough.  So in the last 6 months I have shed a little over 3 stone (20 kilos) and now sit more content at under 15 1/2 stones or under 98 kilos.  The real killer is the waist band has now dropped to 36″ – So I am on good form.  The best of it all is that I am, and always was fully aware of why people get fat and how to fight it.

So having purchased a new 36″ waist suit trouser and matched it up with a rather larger 46″ chest jacket (the standard drop is 6″ from chest to waist size) I went off to find McDonald’s and something that I haven’t eaten for a long long time, the breakfast muffin (calm down ladies!)

It does taste good, no doubt, but also not in doubt is that it is full of shit!  How else can anything so cheap taste good ?  It’s not through care, love and attention that a quality chef might add to your meal.  I sat eating my ‘treat’ and began to observe.

I wondered – McDonald’s have recently started showing the calorie content of anything you can order – it does seem to do little to put off the calorific challenged that seem to grace their doors on a daily basis. So I wondered, how about instead of the calorie value next to each item, why not put the average weight and IQ of the people who generally order those items – that might begin to scare people away to something healthier.  I watched people using the escalator up to the McDonald’s bar when clearly they needed the exercise of walking up stairs – better still, when you are already massively overweight, how about you avoid the place altogether?

I also realised that my recent trip would have adversely affected the weight/IQ display on their menu boards so agreed not to return for some time.  Before leaving, something hit me and it wasn’t the fat chick behind me as she squeezed her massive bulk into the chair behind. McDonald’s is actually a sociably responsible business.  They serve these breakfast muffins up until 10.30.  I had arrived just before 10am. Between 10:15 & 10:30 there was a noticeable incoming rush of clients, hot and sweaty from their clamber to get there before breakfast finished.  So not only does it get youngsters out of bed nice and early at the weekend, it also helps raise their heartbeat as they race to get out of bed at the last possible minute and still make it to the counter in time to order 4 double egg McMuffins, 2 hash browns a McFlurry and of course the inevitable diet coke.

Now, let me have a rant.  For someone with an American for a girlfriend, you might mistakenly think I have a little more tolerance to the youth of today using the bastardised american version of our beautiful english language.  NO NO NO NO NO!  I would love to have a job in McDonald’s.  When one of these fashion overloaded wankers walked up to my counter and said ‘ Can I get a big mac?’ – I would simply respond ‘No, I will get it for you – what would you like?’.  Clearly they would have no idea what was going on, being far too thick to appreciate or understand the correction.  Of course, I wouldn’t serve them until they had used the correct english or I had punched them in the face and been dragged away by security. It’s like that scrawny little twat on Radio 1 – Scott Mills – how no-one has punched the shit out of him yet is beyond me.  I strongly suspect two things, he had very strong arms as a baby – to have climbed out of the abortion bucket and lastly and quite rightly too – he was bullied at school.  Speak English you pricks!

Rant over – it was a good one too I feel

While I was on a treat day (or was too early to check in to my hotel) I also graced Burger King.  It is indeed my favourite of all the fast shite outlets – simply because it does just taste better like their adverts suggest.  It was here too that I began observations once more.  Lots of local football shirts were out so I guessed that Southampton were playing at home.  In the corner of  Burger King were what was, I assume, a father and son, both in their teams’ shirt, having a bite before the match.  I couldn’t help notice the fathers posture as he sat eating.  The expression ‘slumped like a sack of spuds’ was made for this chap.  While slumped in his chair, his man boobs (moobs) were resting atop his beer belly while he frantically crammed a large portion of fries into his mouth.  I do wonder heavily about this – but as adults, should we be taking kids to these food outlets as ‘treats’?  Be good at something and we will reward it quite literally with shite.

I left deep in thought about the overall plight of the human race.  It has been said for a long time that the human race will eventually destroy itself – that it will, assuming that it doesn’t get too fat to get out of its chair to start the Apocalypse in the first place.

Good, well I am glad that is over with.  I should have warned you all to make a cup of tea before you started reading.

Wish me luck with my endeavors

 

 

 

 


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