Well a compo related pea

(Sat 26th Sep 2009, 23:00, More)

Faaaaaaaaaaaaar too long. 'ningles all.

(Thu 5th Jun 2008, 11:15, More)

Mornin' ppl

(Fri 20th Sep 2002, 9:38, More)

» Housemates

Leave Mrs. B alone!
One of the places I used to live in Southampton was a bikers chapterhouse (basically a house that was the headquarters for a biker gang).
When people think of biker gangs they think of drug taking, kneecapping, granny beating antichrists.

Some are, lots are not.

I moved in about 2 months after the house was taken over. There were lots of big, smelly, scary bikers living there.

The area was a huge blue rinse zone and it didn't take too long for them to realise that we weren't what we appeared.

Before long I'd be wandering down the road in cut offs, long hair, three days growth and generally looking quite scary.

More often than not I'd have a little old lady coming up to me at the pedestrian crossing and asking me to help them cross the road (deary).

In the back garden we had about 15-20 apple trees. They were all cookers and there was a little old lady next door that came round to ask, as we weren't using them, if she could use them to make pies.

We had no problem with this what so ever, infact we'd pick them when they became ripe and take them round to her and she'd bring us vast quantities of homemade apple pies
. Everyone loved Mrs. B.

One day about twenty of us are lounging around smoking herbal cigarettes and there's a shout from the driveway.

A biker runs in and shouts, 'They're mugging Mrs. B.'

We all run out. Fuck with Mrs. B and you fuck with us!

We get into the road and there's two guys (obviously pissed off as Chavs haven't been invented and yet to find a way of defining themselves).

I still to this day feel sorry for them. Textbook granny mugging and they hear from behind, 'OI! LEAVE MRS. B ALONE!!!'

They had the living shite kicked out of them, even Mrs. B put a dainty boot in.

The police did turn up and talk to Mrs. B and said, 'So they fell over then.'

We never had any problems with the police after that and they pretty much relied on us to keep an eye on the granny fraternity afterwards.

Sod Help The Aged. You need more bikers.
(Mon 2nd Mar 2009, 11:47, More)

» Strange things you've been paid to do

Run round Soho drinking double shots of tequila!
This would be about 2001 shortly after I stoped working in IT. I was then working as a guitar technician and I had just landed a contract with a quite well know group. I got a call saying they wanted to meet me as I had been hired not by the group but by the agency. I'm guessing the wanted to see what toss pot the had been saddled with.
So, three hours later finds me in the intrepid Fox in Soho I had been chatting to the guys and gal for about an hour and was on my third bottle of Dog (Newcastle Brown Ale [I don't know - Don't ask]). This is the point where I am told that they have very little faith in the agency and would like to test me to see if I know my stuff. I'm expecting them to ask me questions, instead they give me a fifty quid note, and tell me to find a guitar shop, buy a certain set of strings and get there and back downing a double tequilla at every bar I pass on the way back. Once I get back I then have to then restring and tune the guitar(an electric in a noisy room. Almost impossible as there is no amp). On top of this I have 15 minutes to perform the whole feat!
Now I know that some of you are familiar with Soho but for those who are not soho is made up of mainly three things; strip clubs, brothels and bars. We're talking a lot of tequilla. A lot of double tequilla! Fortunately I know Soho very well (no the bars! get your mind out of the gutter. The bars and there are a lot of production compaies there [again get your mind out of the gutter. Music production!]). I make straight for the nearest shop but this still took me past a good seven or eight bars. You do the maths! I arrive back with five minutes to so and the growing desire to eat something spicy containing synthetic meat preferable with killer chilli sauce with it. I spend about the next three minutes restringing the guitar answering dubious question ranging from 'were they all doubles?' to 'I don't believe you went to all the bars!'. Being freelance and a mercenary bastard I furnished them with recepts. To be honest I would have liked to have sat down with a nice tandoori, and I did, unfortuately it was about eight hours later after a great deal more alcohol. But they were nice enough to give me some smelling salts that were quite restorative.
(Thu 30th Sep 2004, 15:50, More)

» Housemates

The shiniest trike in the South East.
So, as I said earlier, I used to live in a biker's chapter house. One of the guys was a fanatical biker but couldn't ride safely as he'd taken a bullet to the thigh in Goose Green.
Being a lully bunch of chappies we decided to make him a trike from scratch from beetle parts and whatever we could get out hands on.

About this time there was a huge marijuana shortage and some of the guys thought it'd be a good idea to travel to a 'contact' in Reading and pick up five ounces and make a tidy profit.

Obviously I had nothing to do with thing as this would have been highly illegal. They, not me, get back and the guy they, not me, bought it off was so wasted they, not me, got about eight ounces not five.

Now this being obviously a master plan every other bugger had the same idea. They, not me, now had eight ounces of mind bending hashish and no one wants to buy it.

Anyway back to the trike. We start sorting through all the parts of greasy, rusty parts and start cleaning them up with T-cut.

Back to the eight six ounces of hash. We've only cleaned up some of the parts but boy, are they shiny!

Obviously as we weren't going to shift any of the gear we're smoking the evidence and the cyclic, repetitive motions of cleaning up the parts are just what you want when stoned. They go from rusty to blackish, from blackish to clean, from clean to shiny, from shiny to super shiny, from super shiny to dazzling and from dazzling to divine, godly brilliance.

There were only four currently in residence at the time and within a month we get through all eight ounces and make a trike so shiny it probably blinded the oncoming traffic.

Still to this day hearing any songs from Jagged Little Pill reminds me of these times and the beautifully hot, sunny Summer we had that year.
(Tue 3rd Mar 2009, 13:23, More)

» Housemates

Brian Molko you cunt.
In the late 90's I lived just off Holloway Road. He was not my flatmate but I suppose my housemate due to living in a maisonette.
Steve Hewitt the drummer from Placebo lived above me.

He was actually a lovely guy. Even if he was so coked up that he though I was the sister of me landlady.

Brian Molko was on the other hand a complete twat. Not even going into the tales I got from the techs that I worked with at the time, I'll just go on personal experience of the cowardly shit.

When they were in the UK Brian used to love to scream and chunder his womanly tits off out of the window above my bedroom.

On one occasion I had to be up at about 4am to do guitar tech gig for a much more talented 'artist' than he was and I shouted out my window (after his vomit had spewed onto my front gardon, 'SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU PATHETIC LITTLE GOBSHITE!!!'
Cue 'bom bom bom bom bom bom' of mini rockstar descended the stairs.

'WHACK WHACK WHACK' went my front door.

Starkers I open it. Brian Molko looks down, looks up (he only reached my chest in height).

'bom bom bom bom bom bom' straight back up the stairs again without a word.
(Mon 2nd Mar 2009, 19:41, More)

» School Days

The Ghost of Dorm 10.
I used to go to boarding school and it was just after lights out and the dorm as pretty empty as a lot of the kids had gone home for the weekend.
I seem to recall that there were only four of us there that night and one of the guy had the bright idea of doing a séance.

As I remember it I was the one that wasn’t interested, where all the others were eager to participate. In the end I bowed to peer pressure and too part reluctantly. First of all we had to agree on whom we were to try and contact and we soon agreed on King Ethelwolf , he had been buried in the 4th century chapel that was now part of the building we were in before being relocated to Winchester Cathedral, I digress.

Anyway the ringleader informs us that whatever we do we’re not meant to break the circle. So we’re all being very sombre and séancing away like good little séancers and one guy suddenly shouts ‘Ow!’ and breaks the circle. No one really wants to continue and we sojourn to bed.
After about five minutes the light comes on. How this isn’t remark able in itself but there is one bunk bed by the pull switch, the top bunk is empty and the bottom is my bed. I know that no one has got out of bed as the floorboards had been there for about 200 years and creak. Not believing that it was not me that turned it on the guys tell me it’s not funny, they’re not falling for it and that I should turn it back off, which I do.

About two minutes later the light turns on, again my dorm mates do not believe that it wasn’t me and things pretty much go as before expect I’m about 5mm from touching cloth. The light stays off and this time a wash bag flies off the shelf by the sink, no one nearby and the light turns on.

This time there we poo ourselves in four part harmony.
We come to a sensible, rational and effective solution to our dilemma and I turn off the lights and dive for the impenetrable fortresses of our collective duvets. Yes again the light comes on and this time from Castle Duvet I see a shirt flapping on the floor and it looks like there’s it’s being pulled apart like a woolly jumper.

Abandoning Castle Duvet I decide the only option is to run into the safety of the dorm next door. There is only one person in there, as I said earlier it was the weekend, I’m shaking like a leaf and babbling semi-coherently about us going a séance and there being a poltergeist in my dorm and that there was no fucking way I was going back in there.

So basically there ya go. Proof such things do exist. It confirm it the guys in my dorm decide that they’ll join me in the dorm but only to tell be that they’d planned the entire event. The light pull cord, the wash bag and the shirt had all been attached to fishing line. The thread that saw being pulled from the shirt was my imagination and was just the line they’d used to move it. They were almost wetting themselves and I was still shaking for about half an hour later. I hadn’t noticed the line as when they’d finished rigging everything up they got straight into bed and when I arrived after my shower they told me to turn the light off as they all wanted an early night. The utter, utter, utter, utter bastards. Still I see the funny side now. What a prank!
(Wed 4th Feb 2009, 12:24, More)