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I’m not one to brag, but here is what the floor looks like now:
As you can see, the crap has already begun to pile up in the hall….
Unfortunately the varnish hadn’t dried before a cat ran across it. Belle is now preserved like a fly in amber under a layer of varnish by the kitchen door - it feeles quite nice underfoot; furry varnish.
Written by exmonkey on March 24th, 2005 with no comments.
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It occurred to me last night, after spending an evening in the pub, what a chav is.
I should explain that, normally, the pub I go to once a week is a quiet, pleasant place. Last night, however, the only table we could get was next to a group of comedy sketch chavs.
Comedy sketch because that’s what it looked like - if Harry Enfield wanted to create a bunch of caricature chavs, these are the characters he would have created.
All of the boxes were ticked -
They really exist - in huge numbers
After a few more of their burberry (collective noun: a burberry of chavs) had arrived, they started feeling confident enough to start with the shouting, hooting, animal noises and occasional remarks aimed at other drinkers. Remarks that, if not laughed at, would be followed by some kind of confrontational situation that would probably end with five or six chavs beating the crap out of some hapless individual whilst the chavette and the dog (insert joke here) scream encouragement.
Ah chavs. Anyway, what is the nature of the chav? It occurred to me (admittedly after a couple of beers) that the chav mind is not a complete thing - it is the brain equivalent of a jigsaw piece taken from a very large jigsaw, made up mostly of sky.
You see, chavs are the mob. It is said that the individual IQ of a mob member goes down one point for every person. Under normal circumstances, when the mob dissipates, the intelligence of the ex-members returns to normal; with chavs, however, something is wrong. They carry the mob with them. Individual chavs, or small groups of chavs display the same decision making ability and warped sense of logic that you could expect from a crowd of 2000 rioting football fans - without the charm.
Maybe this represents the next stage of human evolution - the chav is the hive mind, the future of humanity. Either that or they’re a bunch of alcohol fuelled thugs who keep a dog with them because it tells them what to do.
Written by exmonkey on March 24th, 2005 with 2 comments.
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Looking at Blognor Regis I was moved to search google for General Zod and I found this. http://www.generalzod.net. He IS an evil megavillain.
Written by exmonkey on March 15th, 2005 with no comments.
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Renovation of second bedroom/nursery stage two is now underway.
The fireplace fiasco is now behind me, my scars are healing so, spurred on by my success with the fireplace, I have decided to expose and sand the floorboards.
Nothing is simple, however, and to be honest I am now worried that the new baby will arrive and have to sleep between a stepladder and a Black & Decker workbench.
The boards, once revealed, proved to be knackered - many not nailed down, some rotten and a few not even the right size. That’s fine, I thought. I’ll just go to B&Q and buy some new ones. This is when I discovered that nowhere sells new floorboards of the type that old houses have - ie planks of wood.
It was then that I remembered the architectural salvage yard I pass everyday on my way to work.
Ah, the Salvage Family…
It turns out that the salvage yard is a family. The first thing you notice when you meet Pa Salvage is the smell. No that’s not fair - the first thing you notice is his unfeasibly large head, then you notice the smell.
Ma Salvage was in the office; weirdly she had the same strange head shape - huge noggin and a bulbous forehead.
Manning (sic) the phones was little Daughter Salvage - what a catch! She too had the now familiar head shape. Imagine a dwarf who has grown to normal height but kept the same out of proportion limbs and head.
It is a big salvage yard, but the gene pool of a parking space. I bet birthdays are confusing in the salvage family.
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| A hillbilly | A Bearded Lady |
Anyway - they didn’t have the floorboards I needed. Pa Salvage sent me to his brother’s yard in Peckham (same SE London Hillbilly feel, same smell, different location) and after some tense negotiations I got horribly overcharged for five nail encrusted floorboards, probably nicked from my upstairs neighbour.
Overall I feel a bit disappointed that I never met the Bearded Lady or the Snake Man but at least I found that incest is alive and well (ignoring genetic abnormalities) and thriving in South East London.
Written by exmonkey on March 13th, 2005 with 1 comment.
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Just a reminder - USE FIREFOX (get it here) It’s a better browser, will stop popups and other nasties plus, it’s not Microsoft.
Then speed it up a bit here
Written by exmonkey on March 9th, 2005 with no comments.
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A good example of when adventure sports go wrong.
Click HERE (requires Flash)
Written by exmonkey on March 9th, 2005 with no comments.
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I have always been aware of racism, and how easy it is to be racist through either a thoughtless comment or more often by not saying something when others are expressing racist views. That said, I find that I am increasingly hostile towards Americans. Is this racism?
A typical group of septics*
Here’s the problem. America is a huge country filled with gun toting, right wing, Christian evangelists. Individual Americans may not seem to want to turn the world into a coke drinking, bigmac eating carbon copy of themselves - they’re too lazy/busy shooting things - but they (the majority) have elected an administration who has more than enough time and incentive to do it on their behalf.
That’s America. The country.
Here’s the second problem. Almost every American I have ever met has annoyed the living crap out of me. Most recently a specific American’s very voice is enough to make me wish that we were still at war with them (we were at war with the yanks once). This particular American does not listen, will not accept responsibility their actions and thinks that the US of A is the best place on earth and that the UK is a pile of shit. Typical yank then….
I can honestly say that until I met this person I had no patriotic feelings. Now I find myself defending the indefensible (the NHS, British food, our weather). What have I become? Am I a racist? Or is it that all the Americans I’ve ever met are only in the UK because they annoyed the fuck out of their fellow countrymen?
So, am I a racist? I’d like to think not. However, I also find myself wishing that the Native Americans had put up more of a fight 300 years ago.
Written by exmonkey on March 8th, 2005 with no comments.
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I am reading the Bible.
Here is what page 111 Vs 2 says;
Highland Park Aged 12 Years. Sublime. (nose 24%) the peat is almost sprinkled on by hand in exact measures, the honey and vague molasses guaranteeing controlled sweetness, salt, old leather and apples in there too.(taste 22%) moderately weighty mouth arrival, sweet yet enough oak to offer some bitter complexity. The fabulour bitter-sweet balance pans out in favour of the honey though there is enought peat around to add extra weight. (finish 22%) long, spicy, some earthy heather and more oak than usual. Excellemt cocoa hangs about with the peat. (balance 24%) it defies belief that an international brand can maintain this quality more of lee, year in year ot. Few drams are as silkily enveloped as this gem.
Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible of course! The other less well written publication has very little in it about 12 year old single malts and quite a lot about some bloke called Jebus. Also, the Whisky Bible has a picture of the author….
Written by exmonkey on March 4th, 2005 with 2 comments.
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