Andy's Blog

Cancer of the noggin is still rife and round two of surgical strikes is due to commence in the next few hours, and this time it means WAR!  The new lumpy bit is on my ‘chin of heroic proportions’ which means the facial bumfluff needs to be removed… Nooooooo!

Well, in for a penny in for a pound as the old saying goes.  If the beard has to come off, then the WHOLE LOT has to come off as well.  Beard, chin fuzz and…. upper lip growth.  Now this is a HEEE-OOOGE step for yours truly, I’ve had a mouse-tash since I was a gangly, spotty, bag of raging hormones running around School in Corby.

…and if it has to come off, I may as well document the whole sorry process and have a little fun with it as well.  To be brutally honest this is to ‘gird my loins’ for the whole fuzz removal process as I’ve literally had nightmares as to what the heck my face looks like under there!  Ah well, see the results above and enjoy…

Time to wander around, whilst I await for the face/scalpel meeting of minds, resplendent in my wanton ‘nakedness’ and feeling not unlike Duncan Goodhew’s left testicle O_o

There is a certain assumption when using a simple technology like the telephone that what you communicate from one end will be repeated in the same manner on the other end.  You can be fairly sure that when you speak down the phone the recipient isn’t going to be hearing Donald Duck or Popeye like vocal inflections making lewd comments

….Unless, of course, that’s your particular “thang” – but let’s not go there… well at least not in public… call me… later…

The problem is that phones are no longer a “simple technology”, especially the mobile ones, they are made by a variety of different manufacturers with all kinds of whizz-bangery wonderfulness that you can now do with them.  I don’t know about you, but my phone is more of a portable internet device that, sometimes, does voice as well.

We just kinda assume that they’ll still function like our old phone though; what you speak or write on your side will be reproduced faithfully on the other side… Uuuuunfortunately it t’aint always so.  One phone’s nice little cute smilies aren’t quite the same on another manufacturers phone.

The resultant confusion can make for some very interesting conversations though, and very possibly a surprising visit from someone who’s just gotten a very wrong idea.  That is of course if the recipient tends to see the risqué version of a particular textual rendering… which is pretty much all of those with an extra Y chromosome in their particular DNA strand.  So please, dear female reader, please remember to be careful out there.

Don’t be too surprised if you text this , from a Blackberry, to a male of the species, who doesn’t own a Blackberry, when you receive the following…

8====D

My life would look sooooo much more interesting, than it is in real life, if some stranger were ever to read the texts on my phone and assume the rest of my life was the same.

In my text life I am, well quite frankly, some form of sexual god or at least a successful perv… which is somewhat worrying.  To date I am;

1. A sexy woman’s “first man”
2. Able to call favours upon another young woman, although to be fair there was some very specific small print in that text.
3. The recipient of updates regarding the state of dress, or lack thereof, of some bloke stuck on the M25.  Dave, please, stop!
4. ..and who can forget the offer of some fun in the car park!

Unfortunately, or fortunately in the case of item 3, there were no pictures attached to any of these.  It also has to be said that had I not deleted some texts before and after these specific ones, the context of the above may be somewhat different to the way they are read individually …apart from item 3!   Seriously! Dave!

Finally if that imagined person who is reading my texts didn’t know what a Sensei was, there are some serious inbreeding issues in certain parts of Northampton town, then my texts could read like me being some EXTREMELY busy prostitute reporting back to my pimp.  The mind boggles as to what stock I’m buying for that little venture then!

Ah well, unless you see me hanging around street corners in a natty little skirt, which has been known… the skirt wearing that is… well kilt… HONESTLY IT’S A KILT!  …then just assume that my normal hum-drum life is still nowhere as exciting as my textual one :-/

Although one can but dream.

Last post was a little doom-n-gloom and I’m distinctly reminded of a comment one of my friends recieved after he bemoaned his fate via a facebook status update;

“Man up… faggott!“

So, on a lighter note, here’s the Big Yin himself doing what he does best…

This year has been memorable for a lot of reasons and also particularly tough, especially this past month as the year draws to its end.

However one thing that has been a constant throughout is the joy at training with a group of awesome people in  karate, especially seeing them grow in skill and confidence, as well as progressing through their belts.

To make an outstanding dojo doesn’t just require a good Sensei but an outstanding bunch of people who give both 100% of themselves and their characters to make the dojo a friendly place to train in.

There are parts of this year I will try and forget pretty quickly, and I hope will not haunt me next year, however the absolute blast I have had practising karate at both Corby and Irthlingborough is not one of those.

The last karate classes of 2010 have just been completed and not a bigger laugh could be had.  To any students from Corby or Irthlingborough reading this; Guys, it has been an ABSOLUTE pleasure training with you and I look forward to 2011 …I will also always have this picture which makes me laugh insanely *every* time I look at it!

Germany, Austria and Italy are standing together in the middle of a pub when Serbia bumps into Austria and spills Austria’s pint. Austria demands Serbia buy it a complete new suit because there are splashes on its trouser leg. Germany expresses its support for Austria’s point of view.

Britain recommends that everyone calm down a bit. Serbia points out that it can’t afford a whole suit, but offers to pay for the cleaning of Austria’s trousers. Russia and Serbia look at Austria. Austria asks Serbia who it’s looking at.

Russia suggests that Austria should leave its little brother alone. Austria inquires as to whose army will assist Russia in compelling it to do so. Germany appeals to Britain that France has been looking at it, and that this is sufficiently out of order that Britain should not intervene.

Britain replies that France can look at who it wants to, that Britain is looking at Germany too, and what is Germany going to do about it? Germany tells Russia to stop looking at Austria, or Germany will render Russia incapable of such action. Britain and France ask Germany whether it’s looking at Belgium.

Turkey and Germany go off into a corner and whisper. When they come back, Turkey makes a show of not looking at anyone. Germany rolls up its sleeves, looks at France, and punches Belgium. France and Britain punch Germany. Austria punches Russia. Germany punches Britain and France with one hand and Russia with the other. Russia throws a punch at Germany, but misses and nearly falls over.

Japan calls over from the other side of the room that it’s on Britain’s side, but stays there. Italy surprises everyone by punching Austria. Australia punches Turkey, and gets punched back. There are no hard feelings because Britain made Australia do it.

France gets thrown through a plate glass window, but gets back up and carries on fighting. Russia gets thrown through another one, gets knocked out, suffers brain damage, and wakes up with a complete personality change. Italy throws a punch at Austria and misses, but Austria falls over anyway. Italy raises both fists in the air and runs round the room chanting.

America waits till Germany is about to fall over from sustained punching from Britain and France, then walks over and smashes it with a barstool, then pretends it won the fight all by itself. By now all the chairs are broken and the big mirror over the bar is shattered.

Britain, France and America agree that Germany threw the first punch, so the whole thing is Germany’s fault . While Germany is still unconscious, they go through its pockets, steal its wallet, and buy drinks for all their friends.

Not entirely sure where this originates from, but I decided to make free with it after seeing it as a facebook status update by young Mr O’Farrell… and reproduced here for your viewing pleasure

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have raised their security level from “Miffed” to “Peeved”.  Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to “Irritated” or even “A Bit Cross”.  The English have not been “A Bit Cross” since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies all but ran out.  Terrorists have been re-categorised from “Tiresome” to a “Bloody Nuisance”.   The last time the British issued a “Bloody Nuisance” warning level was in 1588 when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots raised their threat level from “Pissed Off” to “Let’s get the Bastards”.  They don’t have any other levels.  This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from “Run” to “Hide”.  The only two higher levels in France are “Collaborate” and “Surrender”.  The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France’s white flag factory, effectively paralysing the country’s military capability.

It’s not only the French who are on a heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert level from “Shout loudly and excitedly” to “Elaborate Military Posturing”.  Two more levels remain: “Ineffective Combat Operations” and “Change Sides”.

The Germans also increased their alert state from “Disdainful Arrogance” to “Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs”.  They also have two higher levels: “Invade a Neighbour” and “Lose”.

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.  These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Americans meanwhile and as usual are carrying out pre-emptive strikes, on all of their allies, just in case.

And in the southern hemisphere…

New Zealand has also raised its security levels – from “baaa” to “BAAAA!”.

Due to continuing defence cutbacks (the air force being a squadron of spotty teenagers flying paper aeroplanes and the navy some toy boats in the Prime Minister’s bath), New Zealand only has one more level of escalation, which is “I hope Australia will come and rescue us”.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from “No worries” to “She’ll be right, mate”.  Three more escalation levels remain: “Crikey!’, “I think we’ll need to cancel the barbie this weekend” and “The barbie is cancelled”.  So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final escalation level.

I *really* wish I could take credit for writing this, unfortunately I can’t.  Received in my email inbox today and copied here for your viewing pleasure once I had wiped away the tears

Another night out doing karate, another bloggable post about conversations had outside afterwards, and some before we’d even left the hall!

Now I’ve sat here trying to put into words the double-entendre’s, shocking  invites and phallic’ising of an innocent wireless card.. but, frankly, even I can’t put *THAT* into words, so I won’t

Some things, as the title suggests, are just better left unsaid.

Just thought I would share this little gem found on the BBC News website, which has both been making me titter all morning, but also highlights an important message which is oft overlooked;

Badass Wombles!

It is becoming one of my pet niggles of late, telling both my boys to “Talk Properly!”.  They have started, especially my youngest, going around talking with an American accent and using American terms for objects.  Now whilst I am not ‘Anti-American’, I am also not American and neither are my children.

I have something of a ‘BBC English’ accent, e.g. no regional accent what-so-ever, and I am fiercely proud of my Britishness and the ‘Anglo-Spanishness’ of my little ‘uns.  Although I am in no way  in favour of the ‘Britishness’ rubbish they are trying to teach children in Schools  nowadays, I do feel that we should promote and celebrate our own unique character.

Anyways I need to stop before those nasty little BNP‘ers come to my door with tears of joy in their eyes thinking that I support their even nastier policies… yoikes!

Enjoy the clip </Little Englander Mode>