yanny mac (ret'd)

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 05-02-12

2012-02-05T09:23:00.000-08:00

Lascelles Opticians: Great eyecare is our goal! - Plymouth Argyle

Great Victoria: Best bedrooms in Bradford! - Bradford City

Gordons: Lawyers on your side! - Bradford City

DEAR CLARE BALDING.......

2012-02-04T08:05:00.001-08:00

Dear Clare Balding,

I'm sorry I stopped following you on Twitter last year.
I was reckless & stupid.

I'm also sorry I stopped following Emma Freud and Elly Olroyd.

I now understand how Twitter works, and I realise that you are an important part of the whole experience.
I felt I could cope without you, as long as we had our Ramblings on Radio4 and the odd horse-meet.
You even said 'hi' to me when Luke Wright (the poet, not the cricketer) was with you on Saturday Live.
Our relationship felt consummate.

It was when I topped 200 'Followings' on Twitter that I realised I had gone too far.

I should've unfollowed Frankie Coccoza and The Real Gok Wan, but instead I rejected you, and for this I will be eternally sorry.

I hope you will accept my apology and we can tweep-it-up together again soon.

I have a horse called Albie.
He is very young, and we backed him ourselves.

Love Yanny.x

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Alys Fowler)

2012-02-04T05:23:00.000-08:00

The little economy fish-finger is up to her old tricks again.

I've written about the green-digit goblin in the past.
She has form when it comes to the sexualisation of our multi media world.
I don't mind Carol Klein or Monty Don getting a little jiggy in the strawberry patch, IF (and only IF) it serves a purpose, and does not refer to genitalia or readers' wives.

But Fowler has gone too far this weekend.
Yet again.

She starts her Guardian Weekend supplement piece by informing us that she pops off to the shed to look at her secret stash of 'Garden Porn'.
Apparently she gets off at looking at pics of bushes in full bloom.
Now, I'm all for a hirsute leylandi, but I don't think this warrants being referred to as 'porn'.
Editorial work immediately goes online these days, so imagine the horror of a part-time gardener entering (and I use that word carefully) search terms into his or her Google, and coming up with an article about pornography.

Amateur + Gardener + Tool + Muck + Redhead + Snow + Muff = moral minefield.

Fowler goes on to say she wishes she didn't have to resort to 'Garden Porn' because she prefers the real thing.
I would go on to say that the 'real thing' is probably indoors, in the warm, waiting for her to stop going blind in the potting-shed.

I would further go on to say "Bring Back Mary Whitehouse".
I've had just about enough of this commodification of Mother Nature, and her feminine wiles.

MENSWEAR La La La.

2012-01-26T04:47:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that no-one is really into Menswear anymore.
Everyone loved Menswear in 1995.
If you Google 'Menswear' now, the band isn't even mentioned until the 25th entry.

I was into Gene and Marion in 1995.
I had Menswear's album, but I preferred the Morrissey-like dulcet tones of Martin Rossiter, and the Johnny Marr-infused rock of Macclesfield's finest.
It's hard to believe that no-one is really into Marion or Gene anymore.

My girlfriend at the time was into Candyskins.
The two Cope lads' dad was Kenneth Cope from 'Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased)', 'Corrie', 'Brookside' and both 'Carry On Matron' & 'Carry On At Your Convenience'.
I went to see Candyskins at The Water Rats in London, and stood next to the bloke from The Fast Show.
It's hard to believe that no-one is really into Candyskins anymore.

Menswear went on to have 5 hit singles including 'Sleeping In', 'Daydreamer' and 'Being Brave'.
Their single 'Stardust' appeared on 'Shine 3', a various artists' showcase of Britpop talent, featuring singles by Marion, Gene, Cast and Echobelly.
The Boo Radleys were also on 'Shine 3'.
It's hard to believe that no-one is really into Cast or Echobelly anymore.

Candyskins didn't feature until 'Shine 8', the fourth of the double Shine albums, that included Bennet, Whitetown, Monaco and Sleeper.
Whitetown was from Norwich.
I met him a few times.
I also met Louise Wener from Sleeper at the first ever Port Eliot Festival.
She writes books now.
It's hard to believe that no-one is really into Bennet, Whitetown, Monaco or Sleeper anymore.

After 'Shine 10' there was a Best of Shine album released in 1996.
It pretty much featured everyone mentioned above, except Marion, Gene, Candyskins, Sleeper, Echobelly and rather surprisingly Menswear.
Luckily new bands like Seahorses, Embrace, Mansun & Republica had come along to replace the ageing Britpop originals.
It's hard to believe that no-one is really into Seahorses, Mansun or Republica anymore.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (w/e 17-01-12)

2012-01-18T06:01:00.000-08:00

MID-SUSSEX FORKLIFT SERVICES: FORKLIFT SERVICES - Crawley Town.

HEATING CONTROLS: HEATING CONTROLS, BURNERS & COMBUSTION EQUIPMENT (OFFICIAL UK SUPPLIERS OF MADAS PRODUCTS) - Bury.

CLAYTON PARK PIES: PIES - Preston North End.

WINTER'S NAKED CHERRY TREES

2012-01-18T05:20:00.000-08:00

We passed by the mill for a while
the cherry trees stripped bare
nude, but for Winter's leather & lace.
The wife in heelies, draped like glory in nylon
a mistress to nature, like a fetish embrace.
Me in plump normal shoes (without holes)
a completely free rambler
with nothing strapped on
to inhibit my pace.

(I'll write almost anything if it gets my blogger stats up)

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (w/e 09-01-12)

2012-01-09T08:28:00.000-08:00

At last count, I had only three people admit that they read this blog.
I have no idea whether they still do, but would like to dedicate this TTNPAH to one of them;
my friend John Osborne.

John is a published author (Radio Head, The Newsagent's Window) and published poet (What If Men Burst In Wearing Balaclavas, The New Blur Album), and an avid Carlisle United fan.
I haven't heard much from 'Jozzers' recently as he has been very busy.
When he's not entertaining Radio1 DJs with his fantastic Radio4 show "John Peel's Shed", he's off doing gigs with Arthur Smith, Emmy the Great and Tim Key.
I miss him greatly, but cracked a huge smile when I heard that Carlisle had won 4-1 against Leyton Orient at the weekend.

This is for him.

CARLISLE REFRIGERATION:REFRIGERATION & GAS ENGINEERS - Carlisle Utd.

REAYS TRAVEL: OFFICIAL TEAM COACH PROVIDER - Carlisle Utd.

PAUL FERGUSON & family: SUPPORTING - Carlisle Utd.

THE RETURN OF THE TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (w/e 02-01-12)

2012-01-06T04:44:00.000-08:00

It is with great sadness that I have to inform you that TTNPAH may not be able to continue after this season. Word from Twitter is that Manish, Steve, Elly and Leroy may be taken off air in May, and therefore the whole concept of the independent or smaller operation getting free advertising on the BBC, will be null & void.
Global banks, soft drinks manufacturers, leisure wear retailers and online betting operations will continue to receive advertising support from the licence fee-payer via Match Of The Day, but it may be the last we see of David Fishwick - Mini Bus Sales for a while.

Sad times..........

LEENGATE VALVES: valves - Sheffield United

WHITBY MORRISON: ice cream vans - Crewe Alexandra

R&H ELECTRICAL: electrics - Swindon Town

YANNY MAC'S TEN-MINUTE SUPPERS

2011-12-31T06:54:00.000-08:00

Having just read the Literary Review of the Year, and noted the huge absence of poetry anthologies & blogs from the overall Top 100 publications, I've decided that to make this writing lark more profitable, I'm going to get into recipe books.

This is my first recipe from my forthcoming collection Yanny Mac's Ten Minute Suppers.

FRIED EGG SARNIE

I always use the freshest eggs I can find, preferably from a hen, but I like to experiment as well.
(Check the little stickers on the front of the box - the later the Use By date, the fresher the egg).
My old housemate Joel used to fry his eggs in olive oil.
Although this is proper posh, I tend to bung mine in hot vegetable oil, and IMHO, I think they taste well nice.
The olive oil can sometimes make stuff taste a bit foreign, but a lot of people like that.

For the bread, always use fresh.
If you can't get a bloomer from Greggs, get the best sliced stuff from Tesco.
DON'T GO FOR VALUE BREAD.
It's full of chemicals that might one day kill you.

Real butter is hard to find these days, but if you can get Vitalite or Flora this will go a long way.
If you can't get a spread, try mayonnaise or tommy ketchup.

When your egg is properly fried (I like mine well done - the wife likes salmonella with hers) stick it in between the bread slices and bosh!

Voila!
An egg sarnie to take away the winter blues, and put a spring in your step.

Ingredients:
Eggs
Bread
Butter (optional)
Oil (for cooking)

**For a little something different, try some ground white pepper & table salt for an extra kick.

I AM NOT TIM DOWLING

2011-12-31T06:47:00.000-08:00

As we approach the compulsory shit & piss-fest that is the NYE celebrations, I guess we should review the past year, recollect the bad memories and good, and be thankful that some of us are still here.

I nearly lost the wife back in July.
Not in the garden centre as per norm, but to a collection of pulmonary embolisms and secondary pneumonia.
Like George, it was all a bit 'touch & go'.
We also had to move house whilst she was in hospital.
As a consequence, we got behind in our regular readings of Tim Dowling's column in the Guardian Weekend supplement.

It's become a fairly pleasant routine.
I read the wife to sleep with a series of back-to-back TD escapades; ones that I rehearse in advance, in order to provide humour or gravitas when required.
I even do the voices.
I never attempt TD's mid-Atlantic nasal drawl, but I've mastered a trio of teen petulance for the kids, and do a slightly bored, if massively indignant wife.
I've even bestowed a Southern Irish lilt upon TD's best friend Pat, and my drummer from the band can often sound like Mick Jagger.

The problem we have with Mr.Dowling's articles is that they are far too short.
Reading them is like watching the daily half-hour repeats of 'Come Dine With Me'.
After several recaps and an abundance of DFS adverts, you're not left with much substance.
We now record CDWM and watch them back-to-back with the assistance of a f/fwd button on the remote.
And this is how we enjoy TD, with a few of his columns back-to-back.

In July of this year, we had several TDs outstanding, but there was no immediate fear of not completing them by year end.
Most of them focussed on yet another holiday in Cornwall, or yet another festival appearance by the band.
But by the end of October, I had so many Weekend's piled up, that they resembled a dog-eared bedside table.
Tim Dowling was growing in stature, but only on my bedroom floor.
I set about reducing the dust topped mountain with passion and theatrical prowess, and I'm happy to be able to tell you that we are down to the last three (yet another technophobe one, Dinner with the kids & Choosing the Xmas tree).

Tonight we will spend NYE with my friend Luke and his family.
I have less than ten hours to complete my task, a task that looked improbable in August of this year, particularly when my wife was hooked up to a life support machine.
Perhaps I'll read the final three to tonight's assembled party-goers, whilst quietly praying that this year can happily come to an end?
Or perhaps I'll save them for the marital bed later?
Or perhaps I just won't bother?

After all, I'm no Tim Dowling.

The Strange Story of John Osborne, the Wireless & Quite a Long Day

2011-12-21T08:37:00.000-08:00

Made the mistake of leaving the wireless on all day.

I weaned myself off FiveLive some weeks ago by reducing background noise altogether, and by trying to read the book the wife bought me last Xmas.
My alarm on my phone (I know! It's got a camera too!) reminded me that I needed to tune into Radio4, as my friend John Osborne (no 'U') was prattling on about music, girls and sheds again.
The subsequent programmes held little of interest until 'All In The Mind' around mid-afternoon.
The presenters were examining stress-levels and were asking listeners to take part in an online stress test.
I'd chopped logs, fed the cats, and been as witty as I could on Facebook (not Twitter - I'm not witty enough for Twitter), so I thought what the hell?

After about twenty minutes I received my results, and it turns out I'm borderline psychotic!
The beeb's analysts have urged me to seek medical help as soon as possible, and to contact a relative or friend with my news, in order to ensure assistance.

They didn't give any indication as to who would put my bins out, or who would draw my wife's bath?
Amateurs probably.

I've switched the wireless off now.
No good will come of all this modern technology.

THE RETURN OF THE TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (w/e 18-12-11)

2011-12-20T07:34:00.000-08:00

WORLD OF CARPETS : Carpets - Southend United

MICHAEL SPIERS : Exclusive Jewellery - Plymouth Argyle

Mr. CROPPER : Hydraulic Concrete Pile Breakers - Burton Albion

Campaign Update (Focus DIY)

2011-12-08T05:41:00.000-08:00

More importantly, the retail behemoth that is Focus DIY, is no more.
Hopefully this will bring much needed business to the paint-sellers, nail-floggers, plant-punters and padlock-dealers of Olde Beccles Town;
but I fear the new Poundland may absorb some of that trade.
(6-7-2011)

The Poundland I referred to above, was in fact a 'Pound Stretcher'.
Along with QD, Gary's Discounts and the multitude of charity shops, it's hoped that no one will have to pay through the nose this Xmas.
Not in Beccles.

We do still however need somewhere for the kids to go when the lido is closed.
Our hope that the massive warehouse vacated by Focus DIY would be turned into an Open Venue, or youth club, or sports hall, or skate-park or gym, has been dashed, only a fortnight away from Xmas week.

I'm not sure what our new retailer is actually called, but it has a gaudy fascia that highlights the words FAMILY, DISCOUNTS, BARGAINS, and it appears to have a glut of plastic exclamation marks!!!!!!!!

The kids may be roaming the streets this festive period, but no one will have to pay for anything through the nose.
Not in Beccles.

Merry Costa everybody..........

THE RETURN OF THE TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS

2011-12-04T13:11:00.000-08:00

I've been asked by an online publication to re-start TTTNPAH.

They thought there was 'mileage' in another season.

They asked if I could explain why I thought certain advertising hoardings were humorous, or of note?

I told them to fuck off.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (w/e 4-12-11)

John Hill Associates: Architectural & Surveying Consultants. 01302 35565 - DONCASTER ROVERS

John Brocklesby Metal Management Ltd: "For all your scrap metal needs" - HULL CITY

Dave Ridge & Sons: Pebble dashing - CRYSTAL PALACE

Campaign Update (Merry Costa)

2011-11-02T08:31:00.000-07:00

To be fair to Beccles Tesco (and I'm not fair that often), taking delivery of Xmas stock in Autumn, and placing it directly onto the shelves, that are taking brief respite from barbecue charcoals and citronella tea-lights, is a space & labour-saving device, that the public, rightly or wrongly, see as a piece of cynical capitalism.

Costa Coffee however, do not have this excuse.

Whereas Tesco is still punting pumpkins and fireworks, with not a Xmas decoration in sight, Costa Coffee has festooned it's windows with the most garish, unattractive, badly fonted posters, wishing everyone who can read, a 'Merry Costa'.

What does it even mean?!

A Merry fuckin' Costa?
It's not even a crappy seasonal period!
It's a brand name.
For a coffee-shop.
When did buying an overpriced cup of java ever have anything to do with Xmas?

What next, a Merry Costa and a Happy New Starbucks?
Ding dong merrily on high, in Devon the tills are ringing?
Costa time, mistletoe & caffeine, children singing Christian rapping?
(I'm angry and I didn't really give these my best shot - your suggestions please?)

And why now?
It's November 2nd ffs!

No.
We've managed to get rid of Julian Assange, Focus DIY and Woolies.
We've stalled Wetherspoons.
It's time to rid our town of this obnoxious chain of space-hogging, money-grabbing, sanitised nonsense, and embrace the twelve or so independent coffee shops that we already have.

If you want a skinny latte' ask Elsie for less milk.
If you want a cappucino ask Doris for a sprinkle of cocoa.
If you want the world to disappear up its own arse, ask Santa for a Merry Costa.
(You never know, you might get it in a proper cup)

JULIAN ASSANGE WANTS TO SCREAM "I'M FREE"

2011-11-02T04:32:00.000-07:00

A man who struggles to understand when 'No' means 'No'.
Let's look at the facts;

Visits police station in stockinged feet, even in winter

Knowingly breaks his curfew to watch Titti T Rash.

Doesn't know who Ricky Ponting is.

Illegally films inside Beccles Police Station, outside of curfew.

Sanctions his autobiography, then denies its validity.

Actually isn't 'that bloke from Wikipedia' at all.

Prefers Waveney Valley in a tag, than Sweden without.

Cannot maintain a sensible haircut.

Didn't follow the Ashes, but happily redacted cables about boring stuff.

Thinks extradition should be requested by defence, rather than prosecution.

Has been told 'No' twice now, and still appeals, wasting valuable court time, and losing credibility in doing so.

Looks suspiciously like John Inman.

If you didn't do it Julian, go face the music.
The Swedes are lovely.

Justice will prevail, you know that.........

IS JULIAN ASSANGE THE NEW MESSIAH?

2011-10-19T04:39:00.000-07:00

And on the seventh day, although He should've been resting, God put a large patch over the still smouldering blimburn, somewhere near Papua New Guinea.
And He put a few Adams, a few Eves, dingoes and a tiger or two therein.
He then added eucalyptus trees and wattle, marsupials, crocodiles and columbine-tantalite, in case Adam or Eve were ever in need of a mobile telecommunication vessel.
But he did not foresee the coming of Adam's naughty forebears, who brought rabbits, foxes, camels and brumbies, Catholicism and a desire for diets containing high levels of sugar.

And though the cane was for the beetle alone, the forebears laid claim, and introduced toads that would save their precious crop.
But the toads took to emulating the promiscuous behaviour of the rabbits, instead of eating the beetles, and you can probably guess what happened next?
And so Adam's forebear tried to harness the brumby. And when he found he could not, he developed an equine contraceptive that he exported all around the globe, along with wine, ocker-blokes and Dannii Minogue.
And then, just when it was all getting a bit too much, He sent His son Julian into the world, to sort things out a bit. He also gave him a real mum, that took him into hiding, and as Angel Gabriel was a bit busy, he gave him the protection of a Guardian. But Julian was arrested by the authorities, and as a cock crowed 'Aussie' three times, when asked who Ricky Ponting was, Julian denied all knowledge of him.
And then he sort of wrote an autobiography, and then changed his mind about it later.

The Last Ever TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS

2011-09-18T13:33:00.000-07:00

As it's the LAST EVER Top 3 N-P A H's, we at TTNPAH thought we'd let you have a TOP 10 to go out on.

Thanks for watching.
It's been lovely........

KEIGHTLEY COLLINS FLOORING - AFC Bournemouth

A.P.S. SPECIALIST METAL POLISHERS - Rochdale

ZONECLOTH - Colchester Utd

POLLARDS CLASSIC CLEANING SUPPLIES - MK Dons

YATELEY MOT CENTRE - Aldershot Town

E&P FIREPLACES - Huddersfield Town

SPEEDY SKIPS - Cheltenham Town

DRAINAWAY - Morecambe

QUEDAM SHOPPING CENTRE - Yeovil Town

WAITROSE - Reading

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (w/e 11-09-11)

2011-09-11T03:26:00.000-07:00

Is anyone reading this, or has this been an 18month-long excuse, just to stay up late on a Saturday night?
Does anyone care that the BBC has a 'no commercial advertising' policy, yet every weekend, Match Of The Day gives over nearly two hours to punting Barclays Bank, McDonalds, Budweiser, Nike and BetFred?

No worries.
As the summer break has just finished, this week's theme is 'holidays'.
(I'd like to dedicate this to Colchester United's celebrity supporter, Luke Wright, who is currently on tour in Australia and China)

CAMPBELLS CARAVANS - Preston North End

WALDEGRAVES HOLIDAY PARK: MERSEA ISLAND - Colchester Utd

HAYCOCK HOTEL - Peterborough Utd

A Little Bit Of History Repeating (Part IV - More War, Sex & Recession)

2011-09-08T05:19:00.000-07:00

I watched the slug crawl across the carpet, my eyes still hazy from the caustic vapours rising from my mouth.
I couldn't tell through the bloodshot, whether this morning's temperatures were spiked with window frost or condensation?
The tinny voice in the clock-radio on the floor confirmed frost.
And an announcement that several thousand public sector workers were to lose their jobs.
Color Me Badd then sexed-up sleepy Wiltshire without our consent, followed by GWR FM's looped infomercial on AIDS, sandwiched perfectly with Salt 'n Pepa talking about sex. Again. Baby.

Swindon. March. 1991.

The single bed was cold, yet heavily indented, and wet.
Was that sweat?
She was certainly a big girl if I remembered correctly.
No.
It wasn't legacy.
It was condensation. She had obviously left a lot earlier.
She'd also scrawled her telephone number on my mirror, in lipstick, and circled it in a defiant flourish.
A cosmetic loveheart that looked more like an arse.

Dodging the fag butts and used condoms, and kicking over a heavily fingerprinted glass of Thunderbird, I stumbled to the dressing table and tried to remove Revlon's greasy message.
This month's paltry wage had already been spunked on three successive nights out, and I was now in desperate need of Windolene.
I switched on the portable black & white telly and fiddled with the blu-tack+coat hanger aerial.
It was 8-27am.
And we were still at war.

I'd been made redundant three times since Saddam had invaded Kuwait, and both sides were now hurling missiles at each other indiscriminately.
Was this the beginnings of World War III?
Was this even a war?
The comics I had read as a child never featured saturation bombing or scuds.
Dresden and Guernica were never considered battles or combat.
Just fuck-off punctuation marks.

My head pounded with unsuitable empathy.
The guy who rented the upstairs room had switched on his Montego's engine and left it idling while it defrosted.
This was a less than salubrious area of town, and I couldn't help thinking how trusting he was. The car was worth less than a tenner but the cost of a barrel of oil had just reached unprecedented heights.

The slug had stopped.

I made the decision for the second time that week, not to go to work.
What was the point?
My commission-based job wasn't paying any commission, and there was little I could do about it.
A typical day would involve punting out-of-work accountants into a soul destroying void of joblessness.
I was in 'recruitment'.
And I needed a new career.
And I also badly needed to pay my £30 a week rent.
I was an itinerant temp without baggage.
Or a car.

By 9-30am, Cheese had arrived unexpectedly.
He had important news. A mutual friend from back-home had been involved in a near-fatal car crash, and was critically ill in hospital.
Cheese took one look at the crimson coloured mirror, another look at the slug on the carpet, and said "Come on. We're getting you out of here".

We sang Oleta Adams all the way along the M4.
We arrived in Surrey before Hannah Gordon had begun introducing the guest artist on Watercolour Challenge.
I offered Cheese a fiver for the petrol, and he laughed.

You can reach me by caravan
Cross the desert like an Arab man
I don't care if you get here
Just, get here if you can......

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 04-09-11

2011-09-04T13:30:00.000-07:00

It's Gus Poyet's week.
To be fair, his football club are looking good for promotion to the Premiership, despite keeping his sponsors fairly local.
What the good inhabitants of Hove & Shoreham will make of a world made of international airlines and Thai brewers, nobody really knows?

BURT FAMILY BUTCHERS - Brighton & Hove Albion

SOUTHERN PILING: SPECIALIST PILING CONTRACTORS - Brighton & Hove Albion

BRIDGE GROUP: FABRICATORS OF CATERING EQUIPMENT - Bury

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 28-08-11

2011-08-28T05:15:00.000-07:00

I make no apologies for re-posting Rotherham's vacant advertising space.
What more do they have to do?!
Play-off finalists last season, top of the league & unbeaten, moving to a new multi-million pound stadium, and home to the Chuckle Brothers.
Why will no-one advertise at their ground?

ADVERTISE HERE: TEL 0114 223834 - Rotherham Utd

COLCHESTER SKIP HIRE: RECYCLING FOR THE FUTURE - Colchester Utd

THE FIREWORK EMPORIUM - Ipswich Town

Just Another Bit Of History Repeating (Part III - 1984)

2011-08-22T15:21:00.000-07:00

Lyme Regis. August 1984.

I'd only agreed to come, if they'd agreed to driving-lessons.
I had no reason to doubt them.
But fuck, I was bored.
The last-minute deal, summer holiday-plan, resulting in Spain, or at worst Greece,
had been hastily replaced by a safe, home-fires vacation, in Blighty.
Mum & dad had grown up with the blitz and bombs, real ice-cream and bicycle rides in the country.
Abroad was still very foreign.
And it was safer therefore, and ultimately more enjoyable, on home shores.

Dad was constantly on edge with regard to the Middle East.
He'd spent a lot of time there, peace-keeping on behalf of the rest of us.
Mum, having worked in the Benghazi Library in the 60's, was equally sceptical.
After the shooting of WPC Fletcher, and the Libyan Embassy siege,
dad, Thatch, mum and Ronnie Reagan all went a bit gung-ho
(the latter taking it all a bit too far, a couple of years later).

So, I was stuck in Lyme Regis in 1984.
And I was horny.
Lots of doublespeak, and very little sexcrime.
Mum & dad were still a bit edgy with the new-age business crowd, taking over the tea-shoppes with their arty things, and their homegrown produce.
I was intrigued by the fat woman with no bra.

Daily, we enacted a favourite routine;
a walk, a cream tea, back to the caravan for a pretend shower;
pub, another pub, fish & chips and back to the caravan again.

An English family holiday, prior to the concept of 'stay-cation'.

I tried to get pissed on the shandies my father proferred.
I made roll-ups from the ash-trays I dutifully offered to empty.
I wanked in the caravan-park toilets, and I wished I was at home.
Or in Torremolinos.

The telly in the clubhouse bar was full of Arthur Scargill and the police and disturbances.
The jukebox in the games room was playing 'Two Tribes' by Frankie Goes To Hollywood.
The formica tables were littered with cockle-less polystyrene cups, and grubby pots of Saxa white pepper and malt vinegar.
And I was a mess.

I was emphatically in-tune with Billy Bragg, the miners, the GLC, and Red Ken, and the Smiths and CND & everything.
I bought The Clash's 'Sandanista' and voted in a Smash-Hits Reader's Poll concerning Nicaragua.

But I just wanted to have sex.
Lots of it.

With every girl I fancied.
(And quite a few I didn't)

And there wasn't any of either, in olde worlde Lyme Regis.
Just pickled eggs, warm beer and fossils.

In the morning, I stuffed a pound-note into my jeans, and walked to the campsite shop.
I bought a copy of the Sunday Mirror to find out exactly where Libya was.
And a copy of TitBits.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 21-08-11

2011-08-21T13:26:00.000-07:00

Bit of a slow week.
The missus' been ill, and I had to do a Joe Pesci on a rabbit.
Unless someone complains, I ain't gonna feel guilty.

ASHWORTHS: MENS & KIDS SPORTSWEAR - Accrington Stanley.

CHINA ROYAL RESTAURANT - Scunthorpe Utd.

CAPITAL TAXIS: 43-43-43 - Exeter City.

More of a man than Philip Larkin (Warning:contains disturbing images)

2011-08-19T13:21:00.000-07:00

Today I killed an animal knowingly.

In 1978, I claimed to have shot a sparrow with my uncle's air-rifle;
but on reflection I clipped its wing at best.
I was 11 years old.

I am now 44, and I have never killed, or attempted to kill, another animal knowingly.

Until today.

Today, I bludgeoned a rabbit with a piece of metal scaffolding.

I missed its head and neck with the first blow, and it squealed.
(Rabbits don't make noises in everyday life)
I broke its back, before despatching a blow to the head, and rendering it unconscious.
I continued to batter it repeatedly, in order to ensure the swiftness of deaths, that a man of little skill could best administer.

And tonight, I know I will have nightmares.

Of the thousands of rabbits that burrow and forage the grounds of Geldeston Hall, only a small percentage are blighted with myxomatosis.
But it's in the summer months when these poor, ravaged creatures are at their most apparent.
Grazing the lush verdant pasture at dusk, within the safety of the numbers from their warren, it's hard to distinguish the weak from the plenty.
It's only when they scatter, in flight and in fear, that the diseased are exposed.
Oblivious to sight or sound, blinded and deaf to approaching danger, these half-dead lagomorphs dribble on grass with no sense of impending mortality, or anything other than cruel raison d'etre.
Myxomatosis makes zombies out of rabbits.

Today I had to 'poo-pick' my wife's horses' field.
With a radio blaring out Test Match Special, and a determined stride, I entered the field with purpose and a desire to be done as soon as possible.
Rabbits scarpered and crows flew away.

Except for one.

I knew immediately that Benjamin Bunny was a myxi-case.
Oblivious to my grumblings and the trundling of the wheelbarrow, BB continued to nuzzle the nettles that littered the shallow hollows, that discredit East Anglia's claim to 'flatness'.
On closer inspection, BB had only half a face.
No cheek. No chin.
Tumours covering the remaining flea-bitten fur.

His eye complete in its decay, the lower jaw was exposed and his rotting gums were bleeding and raw.
The rest of BB's afflictions are too painful to describe, let alone endure.

I left the field and sought about procuring a weapon that would bring an end to BB's suffering.
A pile of builders' scaffolding poles provided the implement that would bestow upon me the title of 'God' for the next five minutes.

When I had finished, and was sure that the suffering had ended, I scooped up the carcass and dumped it with the horse-shit on the compost heap.

The right thing had been done.
I was shaking and I was numb.
But I was sure the right thing had been done.

I then went home and cried.

For BB - RIP.

A Little Bit of History Repeating (Part II)

2011-08-15T06:32:00.000-07:00

Springtime in Hampshire.

A tiny glimpse of sunshine, and a chance to dry out my karate shoes.
Mum said I couldn't have tukka boots because they were too expensive.
Everyone I knew had tukka boots.
My decision to rebel lay solely at my mother's door.

With the teenage yearning to fuck anything that moved, in a small town where the village-green offered little opportunity, and after the coldest winter 'on record', I was left with the ability to do nothing more than watch the recently created TVS, whilst dreaming of MTV and the girls out of the Human League.
To me it was still the same old shit.
Pipkins, irregular Schools Progammes and Fred Dineage.
All that had changed was the livery, and the 'greed-is-good' mindset of its owners.
Unemployment had hit a post war all-time high, and the Saatchi-Tory claim that 'Labour Isn't Working' appeared to be coming back to haunt them.

A philosopher once said: "Man does not normally wish to fight.
If you want a man to fight, make him feel he is under attack"

And somewhere in the South Atlantic, a scrap metal dealer was bringing out the man in Margaret Thatcher.

Yateley. St.Peter's Churchyard. March. 1982.

I understood Paul's rejection of me as a friend.
With me only home from boarding school during the holidays, our relationship was strained.
He had other friends around him, and I was becoming increasingly more 'strange'.
It was Paul's dad that told him to be wary of me.
With my badly applied make-up, my flasher's coat and girls' school cardigan, I didn't really fit in.
And if I was honest, this was exactly what I wanted.

Bizarrely, the older kids from the village-green didn't have a problem.
They knew I was weird, but they liked nothing more than interrogating me on subjects such as 'life in a dormitory of 20 boys', over an illegal Pernod & black in the Dog & Partridge pub.

Paul didn't come to the pub.
A year younger than me, Paul was yet to get the awkward bum-fluff and forced chin-stubble that I had developed.
With cheap foundation stolen from my sister, and a red greasepaint stick, stolen from backstage-drama, acting as a substitute for blusher, I hoped I would resemble Philip Oakey.
Later in the year Don't You Want Me would become my lament for Paul.

And mum & dad seemed particularly agitated today.

Home from work early, dad depressed the silver cylindrical button at the top of the TV.
The picture rolled and switched from Fred Dineage to Richard Baker;
and as if fulfilling my parents' week-long prophecies out of spite for my holidays, we were informed by the voice of Mary, Mungo & Midge, that we were at war.

Why would Argentina invade a Scottish island?
Who is Lord Carrington?
What the fuck does this have to do with me anyway?
How old is Richard Baker now?
Are you wearing eyeliner?
What are you? A poof?!?

Questions bounced off the artexed ceiling.
A family united in turmoil, embroiled in a battle several thousand miles away.
Mum said 3 Para were already on stand-by.
Dad said 2 Para were better equipped.
I told them that Andy from school's dad was already in Scotland.

"It'll mean more overtime" said mum.
"It'll mean less overtime" said dad.
I didn't care, but I didn't say anything.
"Go and wash your face" said mum.

The churchyard was one person short of the usual habitue'.
Zoe explained that Paul no longer wanted to be mates.
Adam & Jason giggled and said something about pillows.
I lit a crumpled JPS that I found in my overcoat lining, and spat amongst spit, hitting the flagstones littered with butts and Juicy Fruit gum.
I felt nervous, embarassed and flushed.
One by one they walked away.
Zoe stayed, and I asked her what she thought about the Falklands.
"Dunno" she said, grabbing my cardigan and ramming her tongue down my throat.

I walked home alone, hoping the breeze would rid me of the smell of cheap cigarettes and teenage fumbling.
One of the older kids shouted 'homo' and then farted loudly.
His friends, too young to be jobless, but angry, and too pissed to care, grunted in appreciation.

The lights were quickly switched off on my arrival.
I turned on the telly and listened to Fred Dineage bid "a goodnight from all at TVS".
I scrubbed at the greasepaint with Imperial Leather, irritating spots I never knew I had.
I went to bed and dreamt about Zoe.

By the end of 1982, nearly a thousand lives were lost in the Falklands conflict, and many more suffered horrific injuries.
Margaret Thatcher was lauded by the tabloids as the greatest home premier since Churchill.
Ignoring the race-riots of a year earlier, she set about creating a police-state, and systematically destroyed the British mining industry.
Less than 25 miles from Yateley, 30,000 women set up a peace-camp at Greenham Common.
It was to last for nearly 20 years.

I swapped 'homo' for 'pinko', Human League for The Smiths, and make-up for a flat-top haircut.
Mum & dad were both made redundant.
And I never saw Paul or Zoe again.

I was a teenage new romantic
We wore make-up
I had spots
It was shit

IS NATHAN SYKES THE 'NEW' JULIAN ASSANGE?

2011-08-14T03:04:00.000-07:00

Has anyone else noticed that Nathan Sykes (The Wanted) and Eric Sykes (Harry Potter) have never been seen on stage, or in a movie, together at the same time?
Although I can't suggest they are one & the same person (there is a slight age difference) it is possible they are closely related, and have been part of a long-standing family feud.
The fact they have the same surname would seem to support this.

The important question is; can we really trust Nathan Sykes?

I'll leave that one up to you.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 14-08-11 (New season- New rules)

2011-08-13T16:05:00.000-07:00

Let's be honest, it's been a tough start to the season.

The BBC appears to be blurring a lot of the hoardings, with particular interest to the 'local' advertisers, in the higher leagues.

NPower, Coca-Cola, Rainham Steel and Bet365.com appear to be immune to this blurring.

Of course, my failing eyesight may have something to do with this, but even so, this is about how small business advertises on the BBC.
Partially-sighted people need product too.

As a consequence, for the first time in ToNoPrAdHo history, we will be announcing the Top 4 (yes FOUR!) Non-Premiership advertising hoardings on the BBC w/e 14-08-11.

(This may become a weekly thing, depending on vision)

B.LECKEY: ROOFING - Scunthorpe Utd.

GARY FINNEY: GENERAL BUILDER - Aldershot Town.

MIKE LOCK: CONSTRUCTION - Yeovil Town.

GUTTERFIX LtD. - Doncaster Rovers.

TWITTER FEED MENTALITY

2011-07-30T08:13:00.000-07:00

I'm an old-fashioned guy.
I like things the way they are;
but so often, they become something else entirely.
So quickly.

And I'm ashamed to say
I don't understand social-media.

I'm an old-fashioned guy.
I like it when things are planned;
but so often, things bombard your very senses
to the point of overload.

You feel ashamed to say
"I fuckin' detest social-media!"

It makes me sound like a psycho
or a schizo at best.
It's what I call my Twitter-feed Mentality.

Egypt.
From Hossam.
RT. @Robert Mackey - New York Times

"the tear gas canisters r being shot @ v dangerous level, like knees or abdomen.. We have to dodge them"

Via Facebook.
From Yanny Mac & Pikey Paddy.

"Homecoming Gig! Great Yarmouth Pier's Pasquale & Depp reunited for one last time. This Saturd"

Norwich.
From TractorGirl
RT. @YannyMac

"Ipswich FC are guilty of commercial suicide"

Beccles.
From YannyMac
RT @Robert Mackey @Hossam

"the tear gas canisters r being shot @ v dangerous level, like knees or abdomen.. We have to dodge them"

I'm an old-fashioned guy.
I like it when things are peaceful;
but so often your laptop window gets fogged up
with reality.

This is what I call my Twitter-feed Mentality.

Cricket's Greatest Ever Test Series (Bob Willis)

2011-07-20T12:54:00.000-07:00

BBC Radio 5Live had a phone-in-cum-wankfest yesterday evening, about what should 'top' the all-time best ever cricket Test Series.
Inevitably, 2005 and 1981 demanded the greatest amount of airtime.
1960 and the Bodyline tour were given a scant glance .

And it all coincided with a Botham 'tribute', on the BBC.

If 1981 is voted 'the best' this evening
(and listening to the 40-something pundits' glee at reminiscing over O'Levels and 3 channel TV, I have no reason to doubt it will),
I sincerely hope Mr.Willis is given the credit he is due.

Bob Willis won the 1981 Series for England.
It was Bob that bowled out the Aussies.
Even with the follow-on.
Lest we forget.

The Incredible Story of The Fat Controller & Julian Assange's Penis

2011-07-13T08:03:00.000-07:00

*Apologies*
I should've alerted you to the fact that this is a continuing 'Campaign Update'.

Tesco have finally removed the incredibly annoying Noddy Car from outside of their store.
Instead of "Come & play with me in Toyland' repeated over and over again, by a man who sounds suspiciously like Joe Pasquale, we now have the dulcet tones of Ringo Starr as the Fat Controller from Thomas the Tank Engine.

Julian Assange has not been seen in Ellingham or Beccles for over 48hrs now.
Knowing him, he's probably on some escapade in that London, chasing skirt and following his penis!
That lad will get himself in trouble one day. you mark my words.

Campaign Update (Assange's Birthday Party & Asbestosis)

2011-07-12T04:48:00.000-07:00

So the reason we can't have a Wetherspoons is because of too much asbestos.
When did product quality or customer care become part of Tim Martin's remit?
Now we've got an empty pub, slap-bang in the centre of town, that no-one wants, and may be a danger to public health.

The King's Head stood there for nearly 400years without any problems.
JD Wetherspoon came along, and fucked Beccles into a hole.

The checkout manager at Tesco is a rude cow.
Yesterday she closed two tills, as I was obviously approaching them, without a word of apology or consideration.
If it wasn't for their Value cider, I'd boycott them.

Julian Assange was 40 on July 3rd. We invited him to our Birthday Cricket game on the common, but he declined to attend, favouring a party with Vivienne Westwood and the girl who plays the lead in Australia's 'Rocky Horror Picture Show'.
I'm not sure if they slept over, or if Jules drank so much, he lost his moral-compass, but he did end up nicking some of our cricket attendees.
I just wish he would get over the whole 'Ricky Ponting' thing.

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Sauce)

2011-06-17T05:46:00.000-07:00

I enjoy my weekly trip to Tesco, especially when it's a little cooler than of late, and the young folk are dressed sensibly.
But this week, despite it raining on most days, I was horrified at what I saw in aisle 15(condiments & sauces).
Since when did Guinness make ketchup?
And why is Jack Daniels making barbecue sauce?
I understand Levi Roots wants us to get jiggy-jiggy with his chilli & vinegar concoction; and due to his relentless tv appearances, he appears to have convinced the buyers.
But why alcohol brands?

Is this an attempt at subliminal association?
"Ere Duchess. We'll need sauce for the burgers. Oh, and pick us up a crate of cool, refreshing sour mash whiskey while you're there?"

Or is this just global domination by manufacturer?
This week, Heinz meets Diageo.
Next week Nestle' meets Pampers - "it's not what you put in, it's where it comes out".
I'm all for innovation, but peddling the same rubbish, under bigger marques or logos, doesn't really suggest progress.
No-one wants fish fingers made by Durex.

Mary Whitehouse would never have put up with this.
You know what to do.......

THERE ARE NO MOUNTAINS IN SURREY, MOHAMMAD

2011-06-08T15:39:00.000-07:00

We can only imagine how the conversation went.

(SUNDAY 5th JUNE. 10-30AM. A Surrey village green)

Addington Village Cricket Captain: Hello Bob
St.Lukes Village Cricket Captain: Hi Gerry.
You ready for a damn good thrashing today! (chortles)

AVCC: (chortles too) You bet!
Listen Bob. We’ve got this teenage Pakistani lad who wants a game.
I promised his dad.
You ok with him having a swing?

StLVCC: Pakistani hey? As long as it’s not Imran Khan!
(both chortle, one less convincingly than the other)

AVCC: We’ll probably give him a bowl before lunch, and see how he gets on.
If we win the toss?!

StLVCC: You always do Gerry! You always do.

************

(2-37PM. Early Tea. A Surrey village green)

St.LVCC: Four wickets and sixty runs already eh, Bob?
Which part of Pakistan did you say he was from?

AVCC: Carshalton Gerry.
Carshalton.

Campaign Update (Matches on the Common)

2011-06-07T04:56:00.000-07:00

The recent spell of dry & windy weather has left Beccles Common parched, but it would appear that it has nothing to do with God, Julian Assange or Wetherspoons.

Many years ago, some 'bright spark' decided to plant the far-from-native poplar tree on the common, with the intention of selling the wood to the lucrative matchstick industry.
Then along came '5 for a Pound' lighters, Gary's Discounts, Julian Assange and Greggs, and hey presto! We didn't really need to have done that after all.

It's estimated a poplar tree can take up to 50 GALLONS of water, every day!

I say "chop down the trees!" and encourage something more indigenous, and in line with the common's best interest.
And we must do this before Wetherspoons or Greggs espy the vacant space, or before Assange introduces cane-toads.

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Norfolk Showground)

2011-06-06T05:15:00.000-07:00

Thank God for Sarah Teather & David Cameron!
A proposed website for like-minded people to complain about the vile muckiness that most of us are subjected to on a daily basis.
I sincerely hope they let Mary Whitehouse be a moderator.

Only the other day, my teenage daughter asked me to get tickets for an event at the Norfolk Showground, a venue that has, in the past, showcased 'Wheels of Steel' and ' The East Anglian Game Fayre'.
I asked the ticket-vendor who was performing at this so-called 'weekender', and you can only imagine how disgusted I felt on hearing the line-up.

One of the musicians claimed to be a 'Professor', although subsequent investigations suggest he didn't even get his GCSEs, let alone a PGCE.
This is how peadophiles roll, I'm told.
Another pop-star seemed happy that he had a temper, albeit a very small one, and another felt proud of his achievement in not being able to increase his stride.
Do they not teach PE in schools anymore?
I can only assume that the organisers have their Rex Harrison films mixed-up, as the appearance of Eliza Doolittle alongside a talking, singing chipmunk, suggests that the doctor is not in the house.

The Norfolk Showground, once an arena for the Best in Breed, is now a breeding-ground for the worst in filth & degradation.

Please Mary Whitehouse.
Come back and save us all......

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Countryfile)

2011-06-05T11:59:00.000-07:00

What IS going on?

Last week we had the ginger one, ejaculating over his family-home, where they farm stuff, and drive big 4x4's with legitimacy.

And this week we're subjected to Matt.

Back at his childhood stomping ground, creaming over the rides he experienced in the back lanes of Ruralsville.
Mr. Baker nearly exploded when he donged the school-bell, behaviour more suited to an onanistic campanologist.

Why the self-indulgence BBC?
Why does this say anything to us about our lives, particularly on Sunday evenings?

What next?
Julia Bradbury showing us where she was first titted-up, in a haystack, behind an oast-house owned by her forefathers?

No.
It's time to bring back Mary Whitehouse!

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Britain's Got Talent)

2011-06-05T07:07:00.000-07:00

Shocking.
Absolutely shocking.

BBMW.

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Chelsea Flower Show)

2011-05-24T05:04:00.000-07:00

Thankfully, in our house we use the television guide to filter unsuitable content.
I am often found sitting on the loo with a pencil, putting my ring around things we shouldn't really be watching.
So imagine my utter disappointment when I had to edit tonight's Titchmarsh-Fest from our proposed viewing, all because of the 'new girl' on Gardeners' World.
This is not a feeble attempt to bring back the economy fish-finger Alys Fowler - the wife and I get enough of her in the weekend supplements.
No. This was outrage at the perpetual filth plastered across the goggle-box, and this time before the watershed.
I quote:
"Rachel De Thame finds out what makes a successful entry" (RHS Flower Show.BBC2. 8pm)

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE!

BBW - Going down on a Sunday

2011-05-23T16:17:00.000-07:00

A lot of people (including me) thought it would be WWW come the final hour.
Wigan, Wolves and West Ham, were many pundits favourites to go down (and I came across many more who thought it could be BBC)
I guess BBW will satisfy those who don't like A, B or E (or even BMW)?

Stats-wise, 'Nigella's Tits' was my finest moment.........

The Ubiquitous Ms.Long

2011-05-23T16:12:00.000-07:00

We followed you for a bit
on Twitter
but it felt like teaching politics
to a classroom full of six year-olds
And then you did UK Uncut
and Skins
some things
we're much more grateful for
And what’s more
we liked seeing you
at festivals and such
But today we heard you
on FiveLive radio
with Nick Hancock
and Rhona Cameron
And someone talking loudly
about how some sport is rubbish
if it isn't quite British
And how the workmen
in your proud London boroughs
migrate every day from Essex
by the sea
But we didn't want to hear that
not from you
not from anyone
You are much less crapper
than ropey idle chatter
So go back to Hackney Ms.Long
and pick up a pen
Go home Josie, go home
and start writing the good stuff again

Campaign Update (Focus DIY)

2011-05-04T07:45:00.000-07:00

WE DID IT!
We're hoping to convert the warehouse in Beccles into a climbing gym & 5-a-side pitch now.
(Failing that, we'll take a Homebase)

*Julian Assange is currently appearing at Brighton Festival alongside Carol Ann Duffy & Aung San Suu Kyi

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Underwear online)

2011-05-04T04:38:00.000-07:00

I am not a man that cares much for personal image.
The comedian Patrick Lappin once remarked that I was luckier than most, due to having a full head of hair. I was surprised at this remark, as I thought he had observed at first-hand, my constant struggle to maintain my mane, whilst creating a look of nonchalance & carefree abandon.
Other than hair & make-up, and the occasional amphetamine-based diet, my interest in how I look is far from healthy. This all changed recently when my wife decided that I should now be alluring in the bedroom.

I change my underpants, on average, once every five years.
I purchase a job-lot of trunks/shorts, consider pouches, dismiss pouches, go commando for a week or two, and then reach a compromise with my testicles, that normally involves compulsory bagging-up whenever we have house guests.

So imagine my concern and disgust when I was confronted by the cheap, tacky and exploitative nature of gentlemen's knickers, freely available online.
The suggestion that fellas only wear grundies for the act of sexual pleasuring left me astounded.
What sort of messages are we sending out when our posteriors are covered in suggestive slogans such as "I'll work hard for your happy ending" and "I'll shake you all night long"?

No. This must be stopped, before we end up in a society that portrays men as sex objects, and prevents them from experiencing an innocent upbringing.
Shame on you clothes manufacturers.

I say again;
Bring Back Mary Whitehouse!

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Local Poet & Son)

2011-05-03T08:28:00.000-07:00

It saddens me to see such disagreeable filth on the shelves of our local newsagent, ranging from magazines designed for those who think a house interior is some sort of money-making project, to periodicals aimed at women of a certain age, with a sick penchant for crochet and baking.
But imagine my disgust when today, on purchasing the Beccles & Bungay Journal, I was subjected to the most abhorrent picture my eyes have ever laid upon!
A young 'man', with the largest of gay faces I have ever seen, gazed wistfully into the newspaper's banner, clutching another young 'man' to his chest, the latter sporting the smallest of gay faces possible. The so-called 'local poet' was involved in a tawdry affair, so vile in fact, that I could not bring myself to read the article in its entirety, but needless to say, the strapline ended "....gay library fight".
Inside the paper, on page 3 no less, the big gay face (this time looking like a lesbian that wears dungarees) had written a poem criticising politicians, that positively encouraged our youngsters to "drown....in beer".
Another line cried out "Hurrah! A bum......year".
The other smaller man, screwed his little gay face up for the photo, reminiscent of a young John Lydon, and pointed at the camera, as if to say "You lot can fuck off!"
He was quoted as saying " (I) loves to run around in the beautiful enclosed garden", presumably half-naked and monged-out on Relentless?

The state of our media is in crisis.
And this is why I emphatically plead once again;

PLEASE Bring Back Mary Whitehouse!

Coming Off Meds Again (Week 1 tba)

2011-04-28T02:01:00.000-07:00

I am just about regaining full mobility.
Received a phone call from my GP today, informing me that Croc Snooze & I ARE actually eligible for IVF treatment!

So here we go again......

London-Types: keep those jam jars warm please.

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Women In Love)

2011-04-13T07:30:00.000-07:00

Filth.

Pure filth.

Bring back Mary Whitehouse!

THE TOP 15 ALL-TIME NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (2010/11)

2011-03-28T04:23:00.000-07:00

THE SOFA KING: OUR PRICES ARE SOFA KING LOW, YOU MAY WET YOUR PANTS - Northampton Town

BUFFET CITY: ALL YOU CAN EAT FROM 3-15 - Plymouth Argyle

ADVERTISE HERE: TEL 0114 223834 - Rotherham Utd

FAMILY SIZE PIES - Liecester City

ANTHONY - Wycombe Wanderers

MARINO FISH BAR and TAKEAWAY (and CAFE) - Gillingham

KEITHS - Bristol City

DAVID FISHWICK: MINIBUS SALES - Burnley

WHIP STREET MOTORS - Ipswich Town

DIVORCE ONLINE - Swindon Town

WILFREDA BEEHIVE - Doncaster Rovers

MANNERS PIMBLETT - Stockport County

mc CARPETS - Wycombe Wanderers

ew SPECIALISTS - Lincoln City

TORBAY TAXIS: 211611 A LESS TAXING TAXI - Torquay Utd

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS (The penultimate one)

2011-03-24T16:07:00.000-07:00

POTT'S PIES - Morecambe.

IDEAL SCAFFOLDINGS - Aldershot Town.

FARMHOUSE BISCUITS - Burnley.

Campaign Update (The mysterious reappearance of Julian Assange,butter & nipples)

2011-03-24T08:36:00.000-07:00

Julian Assange was seen by my neighbour, signing his tag-thing, yesterday morning in Beccles Police Station.

He was accompanied by a cameraman, who he referred to as 'one of his own'.

They took shots of him entering the police station, and different angle shots of him signing the register.

Assange's original bail conditions (that were made public) required him to attend between 2pm and 5pm in the afternoon.

All press were advised that there was to be NO FILMING or PHOTOGRAPHY inside the station.

Is Julian Assange still on bail, or is he putting the final touches to his forthcoming film?

If he is required to meet bail guidelines, why is he deliberately flouting them?

We say "Oi Oi Oi Jules. What's going on?"

In other news, Tesco Beccles have re-stocked Country Life butter, but it would appear at the expense of Ecovert washing-up liquid.

A customer comment form has been submitted.

And in rather sad news, the media attention given to the increases of breast & skin cancer in women under 30, appears not to have been heeded by the bright young ladies of Suffolk.

Following two days of warm sunshine, nearly every girl in this small town literally had their tits out today.

I thought I saw melanoma at one point;

I can only hope it was nipple.

Take care of your bodies girls, and cover up when you can.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 24-03-11

2011-03-23T16:06:00.000-07:00

DUNCAN PHILLIPS - Barnet.

J.G. JONES - Hartlepool Utd.

MORRIS LUBRICANTS - Shrewsbury Town.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 23-03-11

2011-03-22T16:01:00.000-07:00

DAGGERS HOLIDAY CLUB - Dagenham & Redbridge.

SWANSEA FASTENERS - Swansea City.

BRADFORD DECORATING - Oxford Utd.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 22-03-11

2011-03-21T17:17:00.000-07:00

'FLAMINGO LAND' - Bradford City

'CRUMBS' - Carlisle Utd

'ELTON JOHN' GREENHOUS MEADOW - Shrewsbury Town

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 21-03-11

2011-03-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

ALAN WOOD. PLUMBING & HEATING - Barnsley

IP WILLIAMS. FLOOR SCREED, CONCRETE & FLOORING CONTRACTORS - Bury

JOHN LEWIS PARTNERSHIP - Reading

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 20-03-11

2011-03-20T16:20:00.000-07:00

MASON'S SCAFFOLDING - Millwall

METALLON: DERBY'S PREMIER METAL RECYCLERS - Derby County

DEMOLITION, EXCAVATION, AGGREGATES & ASBESTOS REMOVAL - Oldham Athletic

Coming Off Meds (Week 7)

2011-03-19T04:08:00.000-07:00

So I done fail.

I'm back on the meds.

Me & Crocodile Snooze are massive fans of the NHS, and we are only too aware of the financial constraints it operates under, but when we received the 'menu' for Kings Hospital's Assisted Conception service, we were astounded.

It's not cheap.

And it's not cheap because it's not that simple.

Wanking into a jam jar is just the start of it, if you ignore the compulsory consultation and it's relevant fees. The defrost & insemination take the costs into the thousands, and that's just not feasible for a couple with our income.

So it's back to traditional methods.

And it seems pointless to go through this all-consuming, chronic pain, if we aren't totally sure of when we want to conceive.

So look out Beccles & Norwich area! When I finally reduce the multiple swellings and regain mobility, I'm gonna be back out there. It feels like years, not 8 weeks, since I actually went out for a pint.

It could get messy before it gets better.

And hey! I saved myself £14-50 in prescription fees.

Win!

BABY BOYS' NAMES

2011-03-16T09:27:00.000-07:00

Struggling to come off the meds leaves me a lot of time to plan ahead. The missus & I think we've got a great selection of girls names, should our progeny be willy-less.

But boys names are proving a little more difficult.

So far I've only come up with two; 'Herod' (meaning song of the hero) and 'Caligula' (meaning little boots).

The missus is keen on 'Gary', but I feel this is inappropriate for a baby.

Any suggestions?

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Gardeners World)

2011-03-16T02:17:00.000-07:00

Great to see hot-walnut Monty Don back on our screens on Friday, instead of that smug git Toby Buckland.

The Don gently forced rhubarb for our viewing pleasure, whilst new girl WhatsHerFace helped prune Helen's clematis.

But what's with the overhaul BBC?

Where's economy fish-finger Alys Fowler?

And what's wrong with Carol Klein's shrubbery?

I'm not sure Gardener's World is ready for a sex-up yet.

Save it for World Naked Gardening Day on May 14th. (wndg.org)

Coming Off Meds (Week 6)

2011-03-16T00:45:00.000-07:00

I have chafing thighs.

Despite major weight gains in the past, due to steroids and/or beer, I have never had chafing thighs.

This is new, slightly uncomfortable, but ultimately not very interesting.

I'm performing at this year's Latitude Festival.

Felt I had to gen-up on the bands that were headlining in July. I'm confident I know a bit about Suede, but The National and Paolo Nutini are fairly new to me, what with my personal embargo on Radios 1 & 2.

After enduring several bumper ads for Budweiser and Cravendale milk (when did cows get so brand-conscious?), and all sorts of internet recommendations for musical salvation, I managed to listen to a few tracks by each, based on hits & downloads, now that chart positions have been hijacked by the shit-pimps.

And they're ok.

Nutini has a good voice for a fug lump teenager, but his music is not anything more than 'easy listening'.

I thought I'd heard The National once or twice before, but then remembered it was Editors, Elbow, Tindersticks, Kings of Leon, Pavement et al.

Perhaps it was the sight of bearded geeks in suits & glasses that made me think it was all a little unoriginal, or maybe pop music can only be recycled these days, rather than reinvented?

I dunno.

I'm over the moon that OMD are playing - nothing more than nostalgia for me. And I recently saw C.W.Stoneking live; he is indeed recycling a genre, but not one that drenches our airwaves in sullen mediocrity.

I guess I'm just getting old, and the organisers expect me to be enjoying headline poets or comics, or back in my tent by 10pm.

And I guess they might be right.

I just hope my chafing has ceased by then.

Data Mining Game

2011-03-15T07:02:00.000-07:00

It's official.

I'm no longer an ABC1.

According to the Office of National Statistics, my shopping basket is no longer representative of the average consumer.

I should've seen this coming when I started growing my own veg, and I opted for a payg phone, with incoming calls only.

As an ex-vegetarian, I was surprised to see pork shoulder joints removed from the list.

My local Tesco devotes at least 30sq feet to freshly slaughtered pig, but only a tenth of that space to 'veggie-hippy-stuff'. Cigarettes have also been taken out of the average representative shop, despite my local Tesco devoting twice as much space to these (per unit) as for dead porkers.

I can only assume the normal UK shopper is eating too much chicken, and has been forced to give up the weed by do-gooding campaigners & politicians who don't like Ken Clarke?

With sparkling wine now included, along with dating agency fees & apps(?), the average British consumer could be seen as a Bridget Jones type, desperate for the right fella, and in denial of her social-alcoholism, capable only of cooking oven-ready meals.

The problem here, is the removal of the fleece.

Why was the fleece in the shopping basket in the first place?

Did a shameful piece of mass-produced clothing, suitable only for festival camp fires, and slouching about with a pyjama'd partner, really represent the typical UK shopper over the past few years?

Is it any wonder dating agency fees are on the increase?

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 14-03-11

2011-03-13T17:49:00.000-07:00

IAN WRIGHT - Hartlepool Utd.

mc CARPETS - Wycombe Wanderers.

GRAHAM TRESSIDER. NANTWICH FUNERAL SERVICES - Crewe Alexandra.

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Embarrassing Bodies)

2011-03-11T13:53:00.000-08:00

I'm not being funny, but do we really need to see a bent erection, only 45 minutes after the watershed?

I'm as happy as the next man, that this man, from Great Yarmouth man,

can now show his penis with pride on Channel 4;

but was there really a need for us to witness his own pride, when the general consensus seems to be "no wood on telly"?

And why perpetuate the myth that symmetrical breasts are somehow 'best'?

Shocking.

I say bring back Mary Whitehouse.

Coming Off Meds (Week 5)

2011-03-08T12:05:00.000-08:00

My toes are splitting. My toes & toe-nails are splitting and bleeding. My joints are so swollen, they don't fit my skin. And Norwich are being held at Leicester. It's not been one of my best weeks.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 06-03-11

2011-03-07T05:10:00.000-08:00

PYRAMID HYGIENE - Cardiff City

TOOLTASTIC - Port Vale

MANNERS PIMBLETT - Stockport County

Coming Off Meds (Week 4)

2011-03-02T05:50:00.000-08:00

For those of you not up-to-date (and it's sometimes a little hard to reach all 24 of you), I've been coming off my long term medication, since the start of the year. The intention is to have med-free sperm available for mid-May, thus enabling myself & Crocodile Snooze to start planning a family.

I've been on a drug called methotrexate for twenty years now.

It's a frighteningly powerful immuno-suppressant drug, often used in recovering cancer patients, and effective in combatting the anti-bodies responsible for associated rheumatoid arthropathies.

This is Week 4 without any methotrexate at all.

I can't begin to tell you how painful this all is.

The thought of continuing to decline in health, at this very rapid rate, for the next 11 weeks, is more depressing than following myself on Twitter.

I have a window of opportunity every day, where my distalgesia collides with my anti-inflammatories, in which I have to decide upon a physical task to complete, avoiding anything sharper than paper, and everything that could traumatise my extremities.

Stairs, shoes, hard-floors, firewood, tin cans, tables, jars and child-proof lids are all becoming inaccessible or potentially dangerous.

My half-hour bath is now a ten minute job, leaving me twenty minutes to get in & out.

I know every character in The Archers inside-out (and I still detest Pip).

And I've even started reading a book.

This is Week 4.

By Week 15, I will have clean & healthy sperm.

Not only med-free, but booze & nicotine free as well.

Crocodile Snooze can then think about giving up the Marvelon & Pinot Grigio at a time suitable to her career and social life, but in 11 weeks time I will have almost done my bit.

All I have to do is get myself from Beccles to King's Hospital in London, part with £400, and wank into a jam jar.

Piece of piss.

A First Date Rule (for Susie Orbach)

2011-03-01T09:50:00.000-08:00

Please don't shave off
your pubic hair for me
as it's a little disconcerting
to a man who's 43.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 27-02-11

2011-02-27T15:05:00.000-08:00

MUSCLE FINESSE.COM - Peterborough Utd.

DIVORCE ONLINE - Swindon Town.

MARINO FISH BAR & TAKEAWAY (and CAFE) - Gillingham.

Campaign Update (Beccles & Bungay)

2011-02-18T04:31:00.000-08:00

In the week we appear to have lost Julian Assange for good, along with Bungay Library, the second of our three independent book-shops has announced that it is closing down.

Greggs will now open on Sundays, so lunchtimes will be much nicer, way up until the new Wetherspoon's gets going.

The dry-cleaners (Beccles' only dry-cleaners) has now become a high-street name bookies, and our lido appears now to have corporate sponsorship from British Gas.

The proposed re-opening for the Slug & Pellet (Suffolk's Smallest Cider-Shed) has been put back to May 2011, due to refurbishment problems, and rats.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 13-02-11

2011-02-17T07:56:00.000-08:00

FRESH FISH & CHIPS - Barnet FC

POTTS PIES - Morecambe FC

WAITROSE - Reading FC

Just a little bit of history repeating.....

2011-02-14T12:55:00.000-08:00

It was one of those damp days in early September, in the years when autumn was still Autumn. Granite grey skies, grey short woollen trousers, grey soot covering orange-coloured buses, and the overwhelming feeling that I'd very much like to be at home.
Not in Fine-Fare, amongst the empty shelves & barren aisles.
Not in the Gas-Showroom with mum.
Not fitting in Freeman Hardy & Willis, my feet ahead of me, measured in a hardwood, L-shaped guillotine, and awaiting the pinch of a plastic sandal.

Aldershot. Union St. Friday. 4-13pm.

I recount today's Saints' Day mass given by my favourite of the Fathers.
A sing-song affair, held in the dining hall, cum-assembly hall, cum-sports hall, cum-nissen hut (Canadian Infantry c.1944).
The anxiety of children, tempered with the musty smell of hot cardboard and wafer, brought back oh-so-recent memories of Tonibell's ice cream van, in the summer we just lost.
Shoeless. Burnt. And bellyfull of holiday.

But mum isn't listening.
She's in a queue.
A normal sized queue for these times, but just another queue all the same.
Today we're in the Post Office. On Monday it's Midland Bank.
At her turn she cashes-in giros and Supplementary Benefit, while I strangle a black biro on a chain.
My thoughts are with skateboard trucks and tomorrow's 10-30 kick-off, and the queue we'll all make for orange quarters at half-time.
The bins in the bank are all tissues and ink, paper and rind.
But the ones in the flats, on the way home tonight are wasp-drunk and hot, overflowing with rot, the prevailing wind billowing a funk of shit and neglect.

Mum needs tuppence for the telephone, and the GPO man, behind the scratched perspex, seems reluctant to convert her two pennies.
He says it's the rules, and his job isn't worth it.
Not these days. No siree madam.
I know mum will have problems getting change from a pound-note, now that she's paid for the gas, and my Panda-Pop and sandals.
And it pains me to watch her rifle through a purse full of milk teeth and Green Shield stamps.
I dig my sherbert-stained fingers into the shallow corners of my pockets and salvage the remainder from my walk-to-school, sweetshop, shilling excess.
A tuppence!
For my mum.
A bright bronze, new and shiny one, with gobbledygook Latin and last year's Jubilee year, proudly crowning Our Lady the Queen.
I'm a hero in knee-high socks.
Mum smiles, and drags me quickly to MacFisheries, to get dad some whiting for his tea.
A fact I announce rather loudly from below, in the booze-breath telephone box, as we call him ahead of our arrival.

A train to Ash-Vale, some squaddies and a Victor comic; and a short walk past an Ind Coope pub, typically shut, but poised, and ready for the weekend.
Hurrying along a road, that only six weeks before had ladybirds and flying ants, drooping and drowning in the thick bubbly pools of tar; black wrinkled strips that held the concrete together, for Tonibell's van and brown Ford Capris with pointless vinyl roofs, to patrol.
And at the end of the road, there's my dad.
Upright and sombre, in his grey bank-clerk tie. Dealing with queues, way past five, way past closing. And hungry for his Friday fish, at home, with us and a Mackeson.

And I capture this moment.
Before the lights in our street fail again.
And before the bins outside the flats smell any worse.
Before our street is filled with bin-bags, and punks and skins waving banners and boards.
Before candles, batteries and blizzards.
And black & white TV pictures of locked graveyards, in our living-room, when power sources are eventually restored.
And I will keep this moment close and personal, for another day, aware that those damp and grey autumn afternoons are never too far away.

TOP 3 SHAMELESS ADVERTISING PLUGS ON BBC w/e 11-02-2011

2011-02-10T02:49:00.000-08:00

WOMAN'S HOUR (Radio4) - Yes! Superbaby.Com: Miracle blankets & bands

WOMAN'S HOUR (Radio4) - Plum: Baby foods

WOMAN'S HOUR (Radio4) - Rosie Greenhalgh: b&b

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 05-02-11

2011-02-05T16:05:00.000-08:00

FAMILY SIZE PIES - Leicester City

WHIP STREET MOTORS - Ipswich Town

OVERNIGHT PALLET DELIVERY & COLLECTION: J.REID TRUCKING Ltd - Scunthorpe Utd.

(Our thanks to regular follower @tractorgirly for first-hand surveillance)

Pain Relief

2011-02-05T13:00:00.000-08:00

The missis is out
at a 60th, don't know the girl
lonely, wide headspace

achey limbs
had a bath, and a doobie
a fag
and far too much distalgesia

lost it around nine
nine-ish
started talking to the cats

and strangely
totally re-connected with Euphoria -Deep & Chilled
(digitally mixed by Red Jerry - 2001)

mental
but physically sorted
;-)

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 30-01-11

2011-01-30T08:03:00.000-08:00

TORBAY TAXIS 211611 - A LESS TAXING TAXI - Torquay Utd.

SG SALVO SOILS - BULK EXCAVATION. QUARRYSTONE. TOPSOIL. - Swansea City.

KEN BROWN MOTORS - Stevenage Borough.

Goodbye Suffolk

2011-01-25T13:52:00.000-08:00

The foreigner with a murky past
Here for more than several months
A hero, an agent-provocateur, an agitator
One of us.
And, although furnished with mouths & gift-horses
We looked, but never asked
We should've felt his pained expression
We should've seen his pounding heart.
In the midst of a media circus we dallied
And now he is about to go
But we all kept our silence, muffled voices and gobs
And now we will never know
"Keano: Why did you take the Ipswich job?"

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP AD HOARDINGS (Eastern) w/e 22-01-11

2011-01-22T15:02:00.000-08:00

Ew SPECIALISTS - (Lincoln City)

WILFREDA BEEHIVE - (Doncaster Rovers)

POOL RESPRAYS - (Hartlepool Utd)

Top 3 Non-Premiership & Non-CHAMPIONSHIP (too much flak from local business) Advertising Hoardings on the BBC w/c 17-1-11

2011-01-18T15:02:00.000-08:00

BRADFORD DECORATING - Oxford Utd

LAINES FOR DRAINS - Plymouth Argyle

ADVERTISE HERE. Tel: 0114 223834 - Rotherham Utd

Campaign Update

2011-01-18T03:58:00.000-08:00

The gollywog shop has closed down. Tesco are expanding. Gary's Discounts has reduced it's wall of wool. The builders started work on Wetherspoon's yesterday. Beccles Kebab & Pizza has a new menu.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 15-01-11

2011-01-15T16:06:00.000-08:00

WILFREDA BEEHIVE - (Doncaster Rovers)

KEITHS - (Bristol City)

WELLSBRIDGE MOTORHOMES - (Peterborough Utd)

2010 TOP 5 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS

2011-01-10T08:14:00.000-08:00

SOFA KING - Our prices are sofa king low, you may wet your pants (Northampton Town)
DAVID FISHWICK - Minibus Sales (Burnley)
BUFFET CITY - All You Can Eat From 3-15 (Plymouth Argyle)
ANTHONY - (Wycombe Wanderers)
FARMHOUSE BISCUITS - (Burnley)

Congratulations to Northampton Town for winning last year's "Inadvertent BBC Advertising Competition".
And well done also to Burnley for both of their 'bold' adverts, proving that in this case, size really does matter!

(re-named) Windy Henman Hill

2011-01-06T15:17:00.000-08:00

At 00:51 during the shipping forecast
in Sydney, England easily won
and all eyes turned to Murray in Melbourne
Hebrides,Biscay,Cromarty and even the English ones

You Don't Know Who Ricky Ponting Is????

2011-01-04T15:41:00.000-08:00

Nigella's Tits

2011-01-02T14:44:00.000-08:00

I lunged for the soy
and juddered to a bumpy slide
twixt the plum sauce & mustard

A dirty condiment cupboard
well past its sell-by suggestion
and covered in dates

I suppressed the feeling
a yearning to clean, yet nothing
more than a passing wipe

A wipe that with glossing
gave a sheen so inviting
it made me feel like Nigella's tits

2010-12-28T17:43:00.000-08:00

Cry God for Geoffrey
The Ashes and Saints Jonathan Trott & Agnew
A victory Dear England was most in need
in times of near poverty & snow
we exhale, we prevail,
we drink we fart we curmudgeon
and the BBC never quite far behind SKY (but valued nonetheless) posits the question;
Why celebrate the provenance of a bush-fired set of bails when the Series is not yet won?

"Sydney - It's a great place for TV & Radio people"

An Open Letter to Mr.Julian Assange

2010-12-22T12:19:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr.Assange

Forgive me for contacting you, at what must be a difficult time.
My name is Yanny Mac. I shouted 'Aussie Aussie Aussie' at you last week, outside Beccles Police Station. You replied 'Oi Oi Oi' in time-honoured fashion.
I videoed the whole shebang, and posted it on YouTube.

Very briefly, I became an internet hit (A funny old position, I'm sure, you can empathise with?)

Anyways. My 100-or-so Twitter followers, and my family & friends, would like me to get a 2nd interview with you. The general consensus is that I should ask you another Ashes-related question. I would be open to any other suggestions.
The problem I have is a medical one. I have chronic rheumatoid arthritis, and even though I live close to the police station, standing around in these current wintry conditions is extremely uncomfortable.

Could I ask of you a favour?
Would it be possible to have an approximate 'visiting-time' to Beccles, on Christmas Day?
I don't mind missing The Muppet Xmas Carol film or Doctor Who, but would love to catch the Queen's Speech if possible.

The question I would probably ask is, either:

" How are you coping with the particularly slow Broadband speed in the Beccles/Bungay area?" Or (bearing in the mind the action at the MCG)
"Should Ricky Ponting retire gracefully now?"

I hope you're enjoying your stay at Ellingham? It really is quite nice around here, if a little quiet.

Yours Sincerely Yanny Mac

Dad's Gone To Tescos

2010-12-17T14:32:00.000-08:00

I woke up feeling chipper despite the snow
I sledged my way to Tesco
I wobbled a bit on the icy-cobbles home
and out-interviewed the media
with a trolley full of toilet-roll & cider.

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP FOOTBALL CLUB ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 13.12.10.

2010-12-16T15:22:00.000-08:00

This week's TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP FOOTBALL CLUB ADVERTISING HOARDINGS:

BUFFET CITY - All You Can Eat From 3-15 (Plymouth Argyle)
ANTHONY (Wycombe Wanderers)
NEGRI BOSSI - Injection Moulding Machines (Rotherham Utd)

Ricky Ponting RIP

2010-12-16T08:00:00.000-08:00

A warm wind blows gently, from third man to gulley and swirls a bit, around silly mid-off The batsman trembles as the Perth-born faithful hold their breath in unison Collective fear, deep and cold broken bookies beaten before a ball is even bowled A frozen Brit swaps Long Wave for digital a Shipping Forecast and Act of Worship muffles sweat-drenched Aggers' commentary on seagulls & doctors the airwaves screech like banshees bent on inviting Tasmania's favourite punter to the crease as he rewrites Toni Basil's finest hour "Hey Ricky, what a pity You can't make a stand You miss it with your bat and you nick it with your hand Oh Ricky, you're so shitty why you still 'the man'? It's guys like your wicky who should be captain Ricky Bradley, Ricky Go Bradley Haddin Ricky"

Campaign Update (Au revoir Assange)

2010-12-08T06:01:00.000-08:00

Now that we have managed to extradite Julian Assange to that London for a few days, local retailers are looking forward to returning to normal.

Half-day closing will resume on Wednesday, and several of us can go back to trolley-shopping, in the knowledge that we won't have to run a gauntlet of European & US journalists, on our way back home.

Take your time Julian.

Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!

My campaign to stop Wetherspoon's opening in Beccles, has gone from strength-to-strength this month. All four town-centre pubs have signed-up anonymously, and a man who lives in Chipping Ongar, but regularly visits Beccles Cemetery, also expressed 'serious dissatisfaction'. Our queueing campaign "Get A Grip Greggs", to alleviate bread & cake queue-jumping, in order to secure warm lunchtime snacks, took a knock back this week. A spokesperson for Greggs called Janice said "We can't be responsible for customer disputes at busy lunchtime periods. We hent social-workers". We are still waiting on a reply from Beccles Outdoor Lido with respect to the ice-rink idea. New Look & QD are still refusing to shut half-day on Wednesdays. Keep fighting the fight.......

TOP 3 NON-PREMIERSHIP ADVERTISING HOARDINGS w/e 6.12.10

2010-12-06T15:54:00.000-08:00

The Sofa King
"Prices are sofa king low, you may wet your pants" - Northampton Town

Metallon: Derby's Premier Metal Recyclers - Derby County

Gillian's Blinds - Northampton Town

That Friday Night Anticipation

2010-12-03T11:38:00.001-08:00

Next door's chickens have fucked off to roost and their shit is completely frozen The hen coop sewage rats are restless and starving and begging at our back doors The Aussie middle-order has spunked all its credit and as the Adelaide evenings grow longer the English smell burning snags and damp barbies The party could well soon be over

A Golden Age

2010-12-02T16:00:00.001-08:00

Like Richie Benaud.
In his day
Hot.
In prospect and in property
That was me
Early noughties
Aisle16 and too much speed.
Now I’m Ricky Ponting
Had his day
Respected.
But tired and on his way out.
Marvellous.

Hiatus Over

2010-12-02T12:53:00.000-08:00

I'm not capable of poetic language this evening.
What was supposed to be excitement at the start of the 2nd Test,
and relief at the passing of the hiatus period
(3 days is a long time at sub-zero temperatures)
I instead find myself extremely dis-heartened by the negativity and jingoistic protectionism, of the want-it-now; want-it-always football fraternity.
Being the self-proclaimed 'Home of Football' and having at least two, anachronistic, dynastic monarchies, is not enough!
Russia won. You came last. Get over it.

I felt my friends' pain
John was beside himself
Joe was agitated by moves asunder
Patrick was lost, but
this was a terrain unfamiliar

United in a love of the probable
we snow-balled our fears into thoughts
of barbecues, beer & sun
and allowed ourselves the luxury
of just one more late night
(depending on who won the toss)

The Leaks

2010-11-30T03:45:00.000-08:00

Picky-Leeks - Youngest child announces opposition to green veg.
Hickie-Leaks - Teenage son confesses he gave himself lovebite.
Titty-Leaks - Pregnant mum declares loss of breast-pad.
Dicky-Leaks - Husband admits stealing pad for his incontinence problem.
Nikki-Leaks - Teenage daughter spells own name in affected style on pencil-case.
Vikki-Leaks - Daughter's friend affects similar name-change.
Sickie-Leaks - Father admits to taking 'duvet-day'.
Quickie-Leaks - Husband reminds wife that all children are at school until 4pm.

Day Four (or was it Five?)

2010-11-29T07:34:00.000-08:00

Clocks back, thermostat-a-go-go six inches of snow (would I lie?) But no Christmas-Tree Man, punting near the Strawberry-Hut on the A143 near Gillingham Amidst this confusion, my body-clock looks for clues My kitchen digital radio, now married to an earpiece itself divorced from my bedside analogue transistor my slumber dot-full of waking boundaries, but bereft of oh so many wickets Sleep caught in patches, the pillow-slips making a 3rd man of my wife How long have I been awake? And where is Kevin Pietersen? I fall into unconsciousness to congratulate the boys but they are already on their way to the city of churches It's Monday I think We need milk.

Day Three (of three)

2010-11-27T13:02:00.000-08:00

I couldn't really cope with the H&H show. I wouldn't call myself English but I am now the butt of my wife's Aussie family's sledging. I went off on my own into the snow-covered Suffolk countryside. I picked sloes. I will make purple gin as seen on Edwardian Farm.

Day Two (of possibly five)

2010-11-26T05:43:00.000-08:00

The Ashes Hat-Trick hangover goes beyond four cups of tea Woman’s Hour Tweet Email Tweet again And four chilly trips for a wee. The decision is to retire early Declare. And seek warmth within The duvet The wife The cat & the kitten The alarm set & ready for 5-30am. By the end of Question Time You know you’ve done fail. The cider The fire The wicket The piss in the snow The sound of Aggers chuckling at Movember, McCririck Geoffrey's lack of patience and Mr.Cricket. At midnight I hear the click And whirr Of the Economy 7 And I know I’m now in it for the night.

The Very First Test

2010-11-25T12:17:00.000-08:00

11-30pm Coldest night of the year Jonathan Agnew on FiveLive Extra Red Button (Graphics) A 'sultry morning' at the Gabba on the other side of the world. I'm suddenly aware that I, however am on the mist-shrouded, semi-frozen Broads The coals on the fire diminish as my breath colours the air. The game is afoot with a winning toss and Boycott reminds us all of the value of privilege. The cats are non-plussed The excitement of a late-night has dwindled like the coals With England batting first my body language leads them from food bowl to water in anticipation of a slow few hours. A minute's silence for 29 miners But no 'Land of Hope & Glory' no 'Jerusalem as a tenor leads fair Australia into advancing young & free. Hilfenhaus to Strauss A nominal indictment on former policies 3rd ball. A wicket. The game was afoot but my eyes were closed before Trott got them off to a start that was, by morning, over and blanketed with a layer of snow.

Dead Poet

2010-11-25T04:33:00.001-08:00

Philip Larkin un-friended me on Facebook No reason given, no provocation Just an absence from my Friends List when clicking on 'View All' I do not miss him.

Time Please!

2010-11-17T05:58:00.000-08:00

Due to necessary, but brutal, budgetary cuts, the government will be rearranging the modern concept of ‘time’ forthwith. From 2011, the year 2010 will no longer exist; being referred to from now on as Love’s Labour’s Loss No.1. GMT & BST will now collectively be called ‘Euro-Time’, thus increasing its value in China & the Pacific Rim. As a mark of deference, Chinese lanterns made in Hong Kong will be donated to Scottish farmers & schoolchildren. Greenwich Observatory will be replaced by a massive digital watch sponsored by Greggs bakers, and a banner proclaiming “You know when it’s time for lunch”. The January Sales that traditionally start in November, will be replaced by the year-long DFS model, to avoid confusion amongst shoppers. Valentines Day will be re-named Valentines Fortnight (‘V15’ every Leap Year), and to celebrate this occurrence, first-round audition loser, Jodie from Pop Idol 2, will record “Money Can Buy Me Love” with X-Factor runner-up Andy Abraham. The One Minute Silence (aka.Two Minute Silence) will now last up to 6 minutes, indicated to those participating, by a 4th Official, and length-dependent on injuries sustained during whatever conflict they are remembering (subject to change with regard to ITV scheduling). Christmas is now one of the officially recognised Five Seasons, with spring & summer reducing in length, to allow the ‘festive period’ to start in October. The setting of ‘lighting-up time’ will be the responsibility of each individual local council, based on need & necessity. Gomshall & Abinger Hammer in Surrey will employ an out-of-town village-idiot to light candles in the absence of romantic moonlight, and he/she will cry ‘All is well’ in doing so. Nottingham City Council will sporadically shine spotlights into every living-room, whilst reminding people of the dangers of gun-crime, by playing M.I.A.’s ‘Paper Planes’ at an extremely loud volume. Oxbridge students will now study for 5 years for a typical undergraduate course, thus increasing it’s market value by at least 18k. Saints’ feast days will be replaced with ‘consecutive or palindromic number-sequence days’. At a quarter past four in the afternoon (& 14 seconds), next December 13th, we will have a nano-second’s silence to remember St.Clare – the Virgin Martyr of Bruges. If anyone really knows about doing time it’s George ‘Boy’ O’Dowd. He once sang: Because time won't give me time And time makes lovers feel Like they've got something real But you and me we know They've got nothing but time And time won't give me time Won't give me time Don't make me feel any colder Time is like a clock in my heart Touch we touch was the heat too much I felt I lost you from the start. Moving stuff. But I’ll leave the final words to Zebedee of Magic Roundabout fame. “It’s late. Fuck off to bed”

yanny mac (ret'd)

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Pain Relief

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