Nick's Blog
Blog Or No Blog
29/6/2006 @ 11:13
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I mentioned that I've just moved house recently. After two weeks, I'm still playing lucky dip with packing crates. Will it be the toaster or will it be a collection of New Scientist back issues? Somewhere, in what used to be the living room but now goes under the name of "The Stalingrad Room" is a microwave oven.
When I boxed all these goodies up in readiness of the big move, I would pack the boxes, sealed them up and with a mightly herculanean effort I would shove or drag them in position for the removal men to take over. "Those two *gasp*...to go *puff*...next" I would sputter to them, my face the colour of vermillion, my limbs at angles that they really shouldn't be and with tell tale sweat patches under my arms and on my back which makes my shirt look like a global hypercolour effort. "Be careful" I would add "that one's a bit on the heavy side" (note my nonchalance as I try a bit of manly banter with the shifters). "What, this one?" said the removal man as he twirled the box on the tip of his finger before running downstairs with it. I had to face it, I'm the Incredible Weed.
Blog Sports
26/6/2006 @ 15:10
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Sorry I've been absent for a few weeks, but I do have a good excuse...or two.
1. Wifey and I have been in the process of moving house this month so there's been so much to do. By the way, if you were intending to burgle our old home, too late suckers!
2. I've been planning a big re-launch of Rhubba...a kind of phase II if you will. Not that I think things here are bad or I'm disillusioned with the whole Rhubba Project, au contraire, I'm gearing up for it to become a whole lot better.
You'll want an explanation, I can tell. OK, last month I went off to film some new sketches; they're going to be edited soon and ready for you to watch. Then we'll be planning our next batch of sketches for you to hear; that's right, hear as we'll be doing some audio material next. We're like the Royal Marine Commandos...but instead of by land, sea and air we'll be more like by visuals, text and audio. Actually that analogy seems a bit ropey on reflection.
On another note, I have put a huge St. George's cross outside of my new house because, yes, I'm supporting Holland in the World Cup this year. But now they're out so I'm supporting England instead. Reading the newspapers today, you'd think it was the end of the world when England played Ecuador. There's nothing like sports reporters and pundits to remind us, the humble fan sitting in their armchairs, that we're crap, total crap and that there's no hope, instead why don't we just go home and give up now and spare everyone's blushes, why can't we be more like those clever Brazillians and didn't we always maintain that Sven Goran-Erickson was a rubbish manager even when we beat Germany 5-1. Oh let us sing sombre laments, rent our clothes and rub our heads in ashes to remind us of our terrible iniquities!
Only trouble is, we're still winning. Damn! Why can't England lose so we can begin the inquests and make ourselves truly miserable?
On the subject of international football, another group to earn my ire are girls who go around in Brazil football tops supporting Brazil WHEN THEY HAVEN'T EVEN BEEN THERE. In fact, we're being sold this image of Brazil of being sexy, full of tequila drinking and samba dancing gorgeous bottle blondes and the epitome of style and graceless effort without considering the slums, the ladyboys, the drugs, rampant crime and an environmental record second only to a Russian scorched earth policy. I call this phenomena "Ronaldo's Girlfriend Syndrome" and it dates back to 1998 and Ronaldo's then girlfriend, Susanna Werner, ogling her man and agonising and sharing in the fortunes of the Brazillian team...right up until they lost and she quickly left the scene. The girls stick around and cheer Brazil when they think they're winning and quickly leave when the winning streak ends...in England we call it "Londoners who support Manchester United". And so ends today's rant. I thank you.
Follow That Blog!
01/6/2006 @ 11:32
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Well, we just got back from a short holiday in Norfolk and once again I must thank each and every one of you for not burgling my house whilst we were gone.
Some of you might know this, others will not but I've been a member of a band called "GOAT'S BLOOD" since 1991. Since 1992, we've made it a point to go away to Norfolk to practice and record new material away from our normal environment and the families. We've been to this village called Mundesley 12 times since 92, but this was the first time with all our spouses in tow.
Usually we book a chalet and make noise, but this time we stayed in a hotel and I am informed by Phil and his wife Liz that the only noises that could be heard eminated from the room Wifey and I were occupying. I want to draw a veil over that remark and not comment any further.
Mundesley and Cromer (the nearest big town) are great to visit year after year because very little changes. We can count on certain pubs being present and correct, we know that the Cromer municipal pitch and putt is always there (with its fiendishly difficult 6th hole) and that you can get the biggest hamburgers ever made by mortal man at BB's in Mundesley. It's reassuring in our ever changing world that we can count on these things. Particularly the burgers.
Being in the hotel, we couldn't practice our music without risk of serious physical harm to ourselves and threats of being barred from North Norfolk. Also, this year marked the first time Liz didn't throw up. Having the wives in tow meant we had to endure lots of tea rooms and being prevented from doing anything remotely dangerous or laddish. It's traditional on these weekends to do the "Feats of Manliness" challenge: small acts of courage and derring do such as climbing sandy cliffs, running into the freezing North sea and running between jetties before a wave comes crashing down on you. Our lovely wives (bless 'em, where would we be...etc, etc) were like a little health and safety executive preventing us from being guys and testing ourselves against nature. They'll be insisting that we use cutlery next!
