Sunday, 29 November 2009

dogs playing cards

Melyssa Ford - number 1.

I got the above text the other day. Shrapnel from my favourite debate: Top Ten Hottest Celebrity Chicks in the Known Universe. Everyone's an expert. That's why it's so popular. No pearls. No swine. Actually, every man is an expert (give or take in the obvious places). I mean, we're happy to let the ladies have their say but it's a bit like my two year old cousin thinking he's playing xbox but not knowing his controller is unplugged.

Think about it. If you don't lust after human females and you put your opinion forward are you really talking about the same thing as a guy who says, matter-of-factly, "I'd give her the full clip. No Long."? I know what he's talking about as surely as I know water's wet but I'm really not sure what is meant when I hear it said, from the ranks of the gyal dem, that "Charlize Theron is really pretty". It's probably something like me looking at a Lamborghini Murcialago and judging it as aesthetically pleasing. It's not the same. Sorry, luv. You're not contributing any empirically relevant data. Have you checked your controller?

I can even feel something isn't right in the way it's said. Pretty? That adjective just can't carry the kind of emotional payload demanded (plus you picked Charlize - we don't believe you, you need more people). I think an example from the text message archives can illustrate:

Cheryl Cole is proper peng.

Mrs Washington is fire and so is her girlfriend.

(Where 'girlfriend' is none other than Dania Ramirez, who is indeed fire and currently assailing the long standing inhabitants of many a top ten list.)

See. Warm blooded authenticity.

So while I'm genuinely fascinated by the depths of human diversity when I hear criminalities like "Tia and Tamara are hotter than Jessica Alba. Jessica doesn't even make the Premiership"(Football metaphors are commonplace), when I hear crimes of similar severity coming from the mouths of the unqualified I'm unmoved. Jack in.

By the way. Jada wins the World Cup... Back to back. She wins it back to back.

Friday, 27 November 2009

it's a Blighty ting

First Sea Lord - professional head of the Royal Navy and the whole Naval Service.

Easily the best sounding job title ever conceived. When they coined the term "It has a ring to it", they were talking about this job title. Fact.

Thursday, 12 November 2009

you're 'avin' a laugh, mate

The fire alarm went off today...

Rule 4: Do not stop to collect personal belongings.


Sunday, 1 November 2009

you can't escape the rate

He: What's that?

Me: DJ Hero.

He: How much?

Me: A 1er.

He: 1er? You coulda put a score on top and copped some True Religion jeans.

Me: True Religion?

He: Oh my days! You don't know True Religion?

A blank stare is as useful as speech here.

He: They're sick. They'll make your poom-poom ratings go up. Just go up in Selfridges ask for the True Religion section. There are ones for all £400 but the 120s are still heavy.

Me: You've got the 400s?

He: Nah. The 250s. Check it out on my Facebook with the Gucci belt. One chick commented "Is that the Gucci belt? £150?"

Each to his own pathology.

Me: Was it?

He: What?! 'Course! The Gucci is sick... Seriously, the DJ Hero can only be making your poom-poom ratings go down.

'Poom-poom ratings' are probably only legal tender with certain females but that's academic because on a desert island they're definitely useless and that's what scratching, crossfading and rewiiiiiiinding your way to club land glory on DJ Hero for the whole weekend is - a desert island.

p.s. I stopped to watch an Episode of Lipstick Jungle (be about it) because riding the limits of human hand-eye co-ordination to death's door (damn you, Scratch Perverts) with the turntable peripheral is hard on the hands.

Wednesday, 30 September 2009

beat down

Me: I'm getting down with The Beatles Rockband.

He: You play that garbage? I don't see the point. It's not like it teaches you to play the guitar.

Uh oh. There's a shaky premise lurking 'round these here parts just asking to get duffed up and left in the corner. We play because it's fun. When it comes to gaming there's a simple rule for any encounter with the word educational: swap it for boring. Anyway.

Rockband and any games of that ilk are at their best when you select one of your favourite tracks, crank the difficulty up to expert (Ok ok. Hard, then.) and let your fingers get to work. Sometimes when you really get in the zone they start doing a demented jig and you hit every note wondering "How am I even doing this?" At that point, you're none other than a brutally legendary, axe grinding, warrior king of rock. That's right, homie. You're rocking out. Elation.

So why are there no tracks that do this for me on The Beatles game? And what the hell is that yellow submarine business? Into a bit of self-flagellation with the boredom stick? That's your song. And if I may, I'd like to visit the general WTF-ery of that track for a second time: On what planet is the subject matter not utter pants?

I can see the love that went into it - they let the fan boys really go to town, but after a while you've just bloody well had enough. I'm trading it in. Let's see if Metallica can do better...

Thursday, 3 September 2009

Sick Man!

"Bruv, why am I still up playing Batman?!"

I received that text message at 08:16 this morning.

The answer? Is it because Batman is the finest game this year making it more important than sleep? Not entirely. It's the Pathology.

Game on, Homes. I see you.

Tuesday, 4 August 2009

you say it best when you say nothing at all

Change is constant

Stop spouting this in knee-jerk fashion. Instead, carry a homemade coin in your pocket which says 'Change is constant' on one side and 'The more things change the more they stay the same' on the reverse. When a opportunity to say something about change comes up, pull out the coin (surreptitiously, of course) and work out to which of those hackneyed one-liners the situation applies. By the time you reach a conclusion your opportunity to speak may well have passed thereby allowing you to avoid the arrows of error under the aegis of Lady Luck herself, while simultaneously basking in something akin to true wisdom complete with pensive visage.

Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer

You're aiming for deep or cool. Stop it. I can imagine Machiavelli whispering this in the ear of upper echelon corporate types, drug barons, prime ministers and kings. But let's be real, the closest you've come to anything resembling the game of thrones is castle kingside in a game of chess - if that. Seriously. Abort.

I don't hate anyone

I really don't know why I've been hearing this so often. Perhaps it's from some popular self help book that I can't be bothered to read. Might be true that you don't hate anyone but let's be clear, it's a matter of circumstance not a matter of will. Think you could mount that high horse as an inmate of a concentration camp? Hate is an emotion and unless you're Buddha (or any similar top-kick spiritual entity of your choice) you're at the mercy of it with the rest of us. How you act on that hate? Well, that's another story.

Monday, 13 July 2009


Still asking the ladies for too much perhaps...

If you're in a mood that is likely to leave me getting the conversation out of bed, washed and dressed with its shoelaces tied while you deliver monosyllables in a bored tone then just don't answer the phone. I can take my call ringing out now and then 'cos that's what big boys do. However, if you find that adhering to the above advice means you aren't answering the phone much then you're probably a moody person. Unacceptable.

The grass used to be greener. A pretty face like hers would slip the get out of jail free card under my conscious mind's radar and gain a stay of execution. Alas, this isn't John circa 2002: time wasting is against policy. So face or no, you'll get burned from the field in a timely fashion along with everyone else - rago.

Tuesday, 30 June 2009

hyperbole with the safety off

The most famous man to have walked the surface of the earth will soon be put six feet under it. In my world he'd been in decline for so long that he doesn't leave an empty space - I never knew him and was done cherry picking from his works long ago. For his achievements as a musician and performer it's hats tipped and lances dipped, as it should be but some people just have to OD with the OTT:

"Look what he's done for the global economy"

"...because of him many people have pursued and become successful in their respectable jobs such as Tiger Woods, Opera [sic] and maybe even Mr Obama"

Love the caution when it came to Obama, like maybe he was pushing it... The safest way to indulge in hype while protecting your reputation is to ensure it's intentional. Unintentional hype is risky and may make you look the fool, a crack taker or a waffler.

By the way, Bow Wow deserves an honourable mention. He threw the kitchen sink at it:

"They got to bring him back".

The lad just needed a bigger sink.

Monday, 1 June 2009


Certain behaviour is a quick route to game over. Apparently I'm too fussy but am I asking too much?

I don't expect women to throw themselves at me in a desire fuelled frenzy but acting like you can take it or leave it? I can't take that, so I'll leave.

A bit of heart goes a long way, just look at Dirk Kuyt.

Sunday, 17 May 2009

I try to listen more, speak less. Cos that barbershop talk...

"I can do anything you can."

16 hours later I'd be asking myself what I was doing talking. There are so many words of wisdom on the matter of talking or, more accurately, not talking:

Mum's the word.

Talk is cheap.

Those who say don't know. Those who know don't say. (or sumthin')

Actions speak louder than words.

And there's me hitting snooze. Dummy.

"Go ape. It's not in the dictionary, but if it was, Go Ape would be described as a high-wire forest adventure. That means we build giant obstacle courses up in the trees..."- The location of today's story.

I've just watched the recipient of last nights words complete the Indian Rope Bridge with no hands. She's cast the gauntlet and the message is clear - using hands is for pansies. Imagine the unstable rope bridges you see in jungle movies spanning chasms... minus the hand railings. A man made walkway so high up in the trees that every time I look down my mind forces death fantasies on me, to remind me I have no business being up there. No doubt, there are Smart Alecs waiting in the wings with unhelpful comments like "Just don't look down then". Shut your moufs, sirs. You haven't allowed for the fiendish nature of those pesky indians. The gaps between the planks in that bridge mean a false step is also the last step.

I'm last in the group. A poor position to be in considering the circumstances. You see, everyone else used their hands on the overhead rope before Miss Insane (proud owner of a malfunctioning sense of self preservation) took to the field and pansified that behaviour. It was acceptable for them but not for me. Diddums.

You might be wondering what we're doing on this death (defying?) mission where it sounds like free falling to severe injury is a real possibility. Well, we're harnessed so following the rules ensures you're unlikey to meet with an unfortunate end.


Suck it up.

Relax, it's quite safe.

Can you say "pony"?

These are the kind of things you might want to say to me but you won't. After all, you remember the self recriminating tones of paragraph one and decide you prefer to select the path of wisdom. A path that will leave you the option of hands-on when your primal aspect forcefully informs you that hands-free is indulgence in self destructive behaviour and gibbers on about not having spent enough time with the harness to have formed a trusting relationship. Standing at the edge of the platform ready to cross, I was more scared than I'd ever been in my life.

Have her gloating on some beat by a girl stuff for the rest of the day? Ermmmm... I think not. My deadly sin of choice is Pride.