The North East doesn't equal Newcastle, Squeaking Pigs, Ridicule and Rubbish...

Every so often a moment occurs in your life which reduces you to a traumatised wreck who speaks in tongues and makes you demand that the earth should swallow you up so you don't have to live in such pure pain or misery...

That happened to me yesterday.

I don't like to exaggerate (well maybe...) but I played a game yesterday at a themed 'kids' party for Sarah Walton's (2nd mention in the past week, she's doing well) 21st birthday. The game was called 'Squeak Piggy Squeak' and my general indifference towards the game was only increased by the fact that out of the 12 people attending the shindig, only one person had heard of it before.

The gist of the game is as follows:

• Someone sits blindfolded on an office chair and is turned around several times.
• The other players stand around the chair in a circle and if the chair stops facing one player, they must sit on the blindfolded person's knee and make a noise that resembles a farmyard animal.
• From that noise and the person sitting on them alone, the blindfolded player must guess who the person is sat on their knee.

Yes...I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'what a pile of shit'. However, if you're good at guessing people from just the farmyard animal noise they're making, this is the game for you. For me though, it was almost the equal of being tied up by my genitals in Abu Ghraib.

I couldn't guess anyone or anything. I had absolutely no idea who was straddling me shouting 'brrr brrr' like a horse or anything. A part of my soul died a death last night due to this game and thus it has taught me one simple rule I will remember for the rest of my life: I will never wear a blindfold ever again...ever.

Apart from that, though the party was great.

In other news, I defended my place of birth twice at the weekend. At work, a couple of customers I served noticed my accent and that I wasn't 'from around here'. They then asked where I did come from and I answered, because its true, 'Darlington in the North East'.

On both occasions the customers replied 'oh Newcastle then'. No no no no no no no. Today I've checked an AA routeplanner and found that Darlington is about 35 miles away from Newcastle.

This means I'm not from Newcastle in the slightest. As I knew this yesterday, I replied 'well I wouldn't say I was from Newcastle because I support Middlesbrough'. To which people laughed and obviously thought the thick Northerner was being funny.

I wasn't being funny, I was being pedantic. I was being pedantic because I was right and they were wrong. How offensive! I hope they both never darken my checkout aisle again.

Also, I got a note stapled to my clock-in card at work yesterday. Apparently everyone in the store is being 'retrained' in 'waste disposal' as our work in this area is not to the high standard it should be.

Two things arise here which bother me somewhat. First of all, a high standard? It's putting the fucking bins out! How hard can it be? Surely the process is simply pick up bin bag, carry bin bag to bin and put it in the bin. Have I missed some government legislation which means we have stroke the bag for twenty minutes before we put it in the bin or something?

Secondly, the use in the letter of the term 'retrained' suggests that we have all been trained how to carry out this duty in our store. Since I've been with my lovely employers, no one's told me how my supervisor expects me to put the rubbish out. I just presumed you put it in the bin but then again, maybe I'm being naive of the paramount importance of correct waste disposal in the running of a supermarket. Damn me.

One last note, the Boro continued their climb up the Premiership table with a much-needed win against West Brom. Jimmy continues to be shit-hot while the defence is still being water-tight. Glasses of homemade lemonade all round then! Huzzah!

Adieu.

Boro are going to Rome and I'm going to The Falcon...

Salutations children of the world!

A German man, one day.

Good day and herzlich wilkommen to my blog today. I am in a spirited mood today as the ever-baffling Boro staggered to the last-16 touchline while hardworking Bolton got knocked out. It was another case of Boro's confusing form last night, with every player well below par.

Only two chances were made, while Stuttgart took the game to us only to be severely limited of chances when they needed that vital second goal.

Anyway a big tie with AS Roma is the next challenge, easily the biggest tie we've played in our short history in European competition. Of course building it up would be the best thing to do, as that's what happened with the Lazio game last season and they were rather crap. However, apprently Roma haven't lost a game in 10 in Serie A, so they may not be quite as bad as their local rivals.

AS Roma's stadium...apparently.

Also, and this is for the ladies, I'm dressing as a doctor tonight. Yes, all in tribute to the 21st birthday of Sarah Walton (who constantly bugs me for a mention on here but never says anything funny enough to be included, haha) so if you see in my lab coat and shirt, feel free to come up and ask me to check your pulse or anything else. Don't tell the missus I said that...

An artist's impression of what I'll look like tonight.

In other news, my dissertation is bubbling along nicely. Well, when I say bubbling I mean a slight simmer. I thought my day of debauched drunkeness may shove me off track but yesterday I wrote 2000 words. I'm an amazing human being.

I Had A Day Off....

Stone the crows, I did it!

My day yesterday involved one piece of work and then booze...and I feel hilariously shameless for it, despite having a mountain of work the size of my loins. That's a lot by the way.

I photographed a fella for my website work, then decided (initially against my will) to go and meet my girlfriend for lunch at ...the Shed. During this time I enjoyed a vegetable lasagne (and garlic bread) and found myself constantly talking about work. Work work work work work.

So, in a fit of rage, I decided to (in my own words) 'fuck this' and go out drinking with my bird instead!

Huzzah, what a magical day! Our list of bars, in which we enjoyed at least one drink, was as follows:

• ...the Shed
• Library bar
• The Quayside
• Lloyds Bar

Then we had a slight interval while we bought various precious gifts and jewels in town. Then as my bladder began to fail, we had to go to another public house so I could spend a penny. So than we went to:

• Walkabout
• LN2
• Dogma
• Zucchinis (non-alcoholic here tho, with a nice pizza)
• Dogma again
• Yates

Two things happened in this period of alcoholic carelessness.:

1. whilst in walkabout, Ana was called to sort something out in babylab so I went along with her and waiting in the Atrium for half an hour reading the Guardian and craving more lager.

2. on the way to Dogma (the first time) we bumped into Andy and Ben, who told us they would be going there later at around seven. So after deciding randomly to go to Zucchinis for dinner, we went back to Dogma and met them! 2 cocktails for £6 people, how can you go wrong?

Despite trying to pull away and see my housemates at Varsity, we were convinced to continue our revelry with Andy, Ben, Carla and Paul and had a good laugh while there.

So eventually, after a long day of drinking my body weight (and agreeing to see Bryan Adams with my sister in the heart of Geordieland, St James' Park...oh dear), we went home to bed, safe in the knowledge that we can remember the day with fondness as the most spontaneous day we've had in our relatively short history.

All of this while carrying a bag full of dissertation texts and wearing a Boro away shirt.

God bless spontaniety...and God bless me.

Amen.

Look! It's Yakubu!

One of the best weekends I've had?!...

Good morning!

What a weekend I've had. Not only did I go away, have a piss in Andy Sandall's toilet (well two of them out of three) and drink free booze all Saturday night, Boro stuffed Chelsea! Yeah, really!

And I have to start with that. What a result! However, after beating United and Arsenal at the Riverside, I shouldn't have been surprised.

The game's biggest talking point in my opinion is Fabio Rochemback. Where did his amazing performance come from? Will this finally be the moment when he shows us all what he can really do? He's currently winning the Man of the Match poll on the Boro site with about 60% of the votes. Says it all.

So yeah, I went away this weekend. It was at times an emotionally charged affair (damage can be done by the innocent toss of a pepper), but I enjoyed heading down to Essex with Morrissey, Carla, Andy and A. We stopped in Histon to drop Andy off and it was at that point the time hit the interesting digits of...3:10pm

So I thought I'd check my phone to see what the Boro score was, expecting, with ten minutes gone, for us to be at least nine goals down. We weren't! We'd scored!

So Morrissey whacked on the old Five Live (that's 693 or 909AM kids) and hell he then scored again! The highlight of the car journey down was undoubtedly when Yakubu scored. At that point, I was sat in the car on my own in Sainsbury's car park in Brentwood, Essex. I shouted very loudly while people with trolleys looked on, perturbed by the angry Darlingtonian they saw before them.

When we got to Rachel's, it was only a matter of time when we were at the bomb shelter-esque scout hall where the party was happening...and where we were sleeping. Much booze flowed, some people left crying, some left sick...and some people left at the end. Good laugh though.

Yesterday was one of the most deeply random moments of my tiny life. We (Kes, Harry, Dale, Andy and I) slowly made our way back to Lincoln via Kwik Fit in Brentwood, Histon, the Grafton Centre and a cosy Newark petrol station.

Twas in Cambridge where I ate Burger King and thought I'd jokingly text Saunders, my mate at Cambridge Uni to say I was there. And then I met him! Mental! It was good to spend several fleeting moments with him and then head off home.

On the way back, we talked about all manner of things: handcocks, masturbation, making a horror film based on the weekend, the concept of in-car George Foreman grills being just a few of the topics.

All of this happened and I STILL got home for Match of the Day 2 to finally see the goals with which we put Chelsea to the sword. Huzzah!

Shameless Self-Promotion, Lee Cattermole and Early Mornings...

Good morning!

Yes, if you look at the time of these post you'll be as stunned as me to find that I've got up early this morning. I'm tired and grouchy but one must press on with the day...

I had a weekend off work this week. It was great. I did nothing but play PES 5, drink and sleep. Oh yeah, I ate too. Other events which took place included chanting 'super Lee Cattermole' during the Liverpool v Chelsea wrestling match, watching half of the superbowl, watching Norwich v Ipswich and seeing my friend who came down for the weekend too. He got drunk, I got drunk, everyone got drunk...the end.

I woke on Monday morning to find that an article I'd written has gone on a University site. To see the finished piece, have a gander here:

http://www.lsj.lincoln.ac.uk/page.php?id=320

In other news, Boro are still shit but as to what will solve the problem, I have no idea. Getting rid of McClaren really just can't be done, he's worked wonders before so now he needs to pull it out again.

God bless Cattermole though, the boy is a football fan's dream, a homegrown talent who, in the words of a tabloid paper, 'would run through a brick wall for his team'. He is an excellent player and thus, Sven should take him to the World Cup. Fact.

The only problem with that of course is that the rest of the team's shit, bar Morrison, Riggott and Yak. Why on earth did McClaren bring on Maccarone at half-time against Villa? He keeps making these dodgy decisions time and again.

Anyway, back to planet Earth now as I get ready for a seminar on (probably) something shit.

Laters.

Nothing Works Around Here...

Hello!

The wonderful title of this post today is taken from one of my favourite songs of the moment, 'I Want You To Stay' by the mighty Maximo Park. OK OK, they might be geordies but hell, Paul Smith writes a fine melancholic pop gem occasionally.

My day so far today has been nothing short of alright. I started my day with a dissertation, which was nothing short of a battle. Trying to keep my tutor for waffling off the subject or reiterating the same points over and over is a difficult task but I managed to control him today.

Plus I got him to admit that my study was looking very focused, even though the question of 'why should anyone care about this study?' took me a while to answer! Fuck, who needs a purpose for their actions? Oh yeah, me.

In other news, in my lecture today we watched a nice TV documentary which was a carbon copy of the docs that Peter Kay parodied to priceless effect in 'That Peter Kay Thing'. It may infact have featured the same narrator. It was a docu-soap on 'Skegness News', which followed reporters as they went hunting stories on lapdancing in pubs, rare birds and a couple of pensioner's wedding anniversaries.

Just that sentence alone means I don't have to tell you how painfully embarassing it was to watch, it got even worse when we (the viewers) were introduced to 'The Jolly Fisherman', a stupid 'heritage' character from the area. More like a twat in a suit.

Unfortunately a Google Image search doesn't throw up any pics that do this nobhead justice, but his cock so you don't wanna see him anyway. Everytime he appeared on the screen I wanted to stab him. So I wasn't too wound up then.

Until next time...

Stupid Geordies...

Souness has been sacked...at last. I like the way Newcastle don't sack managers straight away, they wait until they're in an absolute nightmare position, then do it. Only a point above us now, let the Red Revolution commence...

Also, they've put Glenn Roeder, assisted by Alan Shearer, in charge for now! Big Al, if judged on his monosyllabic turns as a BBC pundit, is bound to get the boys fired up before a game. Haha...

Bowling and the Boro....

Word,
I've had an interesting couple of days, but they've only been good for one reason: the Boro slogged the mackems 3 - o and suddenly the team has some pride restored to its battered reputation.

Now, I don't want to undermine our potential saviour Steve Mac (he of the shoddy signings), but any idiot, even those who play Pro Evo 5, knows the ability that Emanuel Pogatetz has to play at centre half. It's his natural position for the Austria team for God's sake!

Yet still McClaren gives himself a pat on the back for putting Poggy there on Tuesday. Rightly so, as he scored and played his best game in the red shirt so far, but to be fair it is where he SHOULD play anyway!

Everyone knows Mad Frank is the second best left-back in the Premiership so when he's back, dump the club captain (harsh I know) Southgate (ok maybe not) and shove Poggy and Riggott in the middle. It's the future of the team!

Also, Lee Cattermole once again worked his 17-year-old arse off and we reaped the rewards. HE's the future of the team! To celebrate, here's a pic of the lad gurning in an England U-17 shirt.

In other news, I went bowling on Tuesday! It was fun!

The best part was getting a drink poured down my back by a fella who dropped a pint behind me. However, due to my jovial mood from the Boro score, I laughed it off and happily took a free pint from the sorry bloke. I also had a great time stood in the male bogs with my top off, drying it under the handdryer...party!

The bowling itself was a good laugh, though I am distinctly average!!!!! Never mind!! Boro won!