Tag Archives: v8

Something is Returning

It could be genius, it could be simply the new purchase – a Range Rover Sport V8 Supercharged.  A tad over 500 BHP and fuel consumption that warrants buying shares in BP.  You gotta do it though – everyone should have a V8 Supercharged at some stage in their life right?

On the plane up to Aberdeen tonight, I happened across the perfect song to play first on my road trip back south.  You will get that at the very bottom of this post – just imagine, as I pull away out of Aberdeen tomorrow morning…….  OK, by my standards, Aberdeen to Rugby is nothing more than a quick hop, skip and a jump but every road trip deserves its own play list to see you through.

I found another blinder too, this one you don’t have to wait for though, take a quick look at this beauty.  This will be my sunset tune as I get further south.

Maybe the internet raised us – or maybe people are jerks !

So, where have I been you ask?  Dah – like you care?  Well, a year in Asia under my belt I decided to quit my job and take some time out to study for my next (and last) license.  The next one is as high as I can go,  Top of the shop – Nine – Oh.  February and March will flash by in a blur as I aim to convert my Y License over to an SV licence but also push the size of the boats 6 fold.

January will also see me studying for an Fgas license. What?  an Fgas license?  WTF?  No, its not ‘fart gas’ but does allow me to legally handle refrigerants for air con and fridges etc. I think it will look good on my ever expanding CV.

But enough of that bollocks

Tesco or Sainsbury’s?

Me, I am a Sainsbury boy through and through but I did see something this week that shocked me to my core.  I was out looking for printer cartridges for Poopies printer – a modest yet effective HP Envy 5640.  A nice wireless little model too I might add.  Anyway, a black and colour cartridge I spied in Tesco for £24 – nice little combo. Problem was, Tesco was out of own brand printer paper and by heck I wasn’t paying £5 for a premium ream, sod that!  I headed for Sainers so I could refuel with my double nectar points token at the same time.

Good old Sainers, had the ream of paper for just £3.50 – that’s more like it. Just out of curiosity, I browsed the printer cartridges too.  Holy crap I nearly shat my pants.  The same cartridge combo was £36 !!!!!!!!!!  £12 more expensive than Tesco.  12 pence I could deal with but 12 quid – come on.

Out of sheer disgust, I left with my paper, a hole punch and some of those little stick on paper circles to reinforce the punch holes – sod the printer inks, I ordered a pair of XL cartridges on eBay instead and got them the next day.

For the travellers amongst you – and I don’t mean pikies, the travellers that fly – I have a new game for you to try. I have been doing it for a while now.  I am still stuck on the name for it, either ‘spot the fuckwit’ or ‘shit your pants’ I can’t decide.  Get on a plane, wait for it to start its taxi and then take a good look around.  See if you can guess who will be the first to leap out of their seat to go the toilet the very instant that the captain turns off the seat belt signs – its amazing.

It doesn’t end there though – prepare yourself for the re-match.  After the pilot has announced the decent and the cabin crew tell you to return to your seats and buckle up, who will be the first dick (or dickette – lets consider equality for a moment) to get up for the toilet when the seat belt signs are turned back on again, even after the cabin crew have said the toilets are now out of service.

I struggle with these fools if I am honest.  I once held a poo all the way from L.A. to London and then last year smashed that record with a ‘hold’ all the way from Singapore to London.  Why people struggle for 30 minutes is beyond me.

OK

 

Back to the start.  The beginning of the road trip – the song I shall start my journey with is……..

 

Wait for it.  Let me explain the intensity of this song.  People talk about bucket lists (OK, yanks talk about bucket lists).  They wank on about sky diving, going to the Isle of Man TT, Lion Taming, stabbing a Vicar in the neck, etc etc etc.  The bucket list – A list of things you should do before you die (kick the bucket)

Well, all of the items on their bucket list are just plain piffle, twat waffle, a waste of space.  If there is one thing, just one thing that should be on everyone’s bucket list – it should be this.

Many years ago while having a night out in Edinburgh, a packed pub, rammed to the rafters, the DJ decided to play this song. The whole place erupted in grand voice so loud, even the walls were shaking, I swear the 4 storey building was swaying with the beat.  Scrub your bucket list and put this at the top – to be in a Scottish pub when this is played.

But before you look, let me translate, To Haver = To talk shit.

 

 

 

Lastly, a few hello’s

 

Mon & John.  Bumped into Mon in the TC last week while I was walking along dreaming about a Greggs sausage role and almost missed her, in fact, I did miss her, luckily she spotted me. Lexa – all the way down in South Africa, popping up for the Hugh Cornwell post the other week, Conor – always deserving a mention, my most avid follower, Mr Westwood (and I don’t mean Tim) a surprise meeting at the farm in Cathorpe.  Amy Beard for still not buying me coffee and a cake – MINGER ! Steve B for some very good Xbox sessions since I have been home and of course my bird for being spectacularly ace in every aspect.

 

Party on Wayne

 

 

 


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

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

 

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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 FHRITP.com) 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.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQK9k42ongU

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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