It's a good job stag weekends are not more than a weekend because the abuse of the body is enough to make you want to sit in a corner and cry yourself to sleep. The first night in Leeds got off to an unusual start in the hotel bar as around 15 transvestites walked in and stood right next to 18 of us who were also men, but not dressed as women. Although one man, the stag, had a lederhosen costume on. This was not his own choice.
The next day with a ridiculous hangover that felt like I'd licked 
the full length of a snooker table, 18 of us went off to ride go karts and hover hovercrafts. This was great fun and it literally shook the hangover from you. I managed to get the fastest time on the timed lap for the go karting but when it came to hover crafting I let myself down, the team down and most of all, I let the hovercraft down. The stag nearly had to do the whole thing in a lime green mankini but he tried it on before the activities and with all that shaking about in the go kart we reckoned it might be both painful and cause spectator regurgitation. I was surprised to find that in our heath-and-safety-mad-country that the bag the mankini came in did not say 'may contain nuts'.
That night, we were off again, managed to just avoid more transvestites, gay bars and some generally weird looking people. At one point we did discuss the logistics of getting the stag into a formula 1 car hanging from the ceiling. We stuck to the safer option of getting his photo taken with a 'fat-lass'. Joy.
It has to be said that Cambridge is a beautiful city, you can walk around and admire it or go on a punt on the river to see more, sing Cornetto songs and tickle the fella who does the punting. We were there at the weekend but didn't get to go on a punt or tickle anyone apart from each other as the weather on the day was a bit inclement. It meant that in between a bit of shopping and sight seeing we were forced into a couple of real pubs, with real ale, real food and the odd left over student. The Chop House was one where I had a great tasting Stone Bass (nothing to do with Bill Wyman but is actually a fish). That gorgeous girl I took along had slow cooked beef cheeks in an ale gravy. Yes that's beef cheeks, the cheek of the cow... It's all about the ale here, I washed my fish down with a canny ale called Pegasus.
More food again later for dinner at the local village pub, The Plough, but I won't bore you with what I had. We managed to sit outside for drinks in the rain, heaters on and canopies up. Only the British would do that. A good walk the following day we spotted the biggest thatch 'cottage' we've ever seen. Some people must have nothing better to do but show off with a fantastic over sized house.
We came home in style with an American Bomber. Now that doesn't mean I had some weird cocktail or curry the night before but there was a memorial day at the American Cemetery nearby and it flew over along with some jets. I'm sure the pilot dipped his wings to say goodbye to me...
I got thinking the other day as I passed a massive portion of horse manure on the footpath. How come horse riders get away with letting their animal plop onto the pavement yet a dog owner has to carry a pooper-scooper or Morrisons bag (or a Waitrose bag if you have a four-wheel drive and have special seats for your dogs) to avoid a fine? If dog owners were riding their dogs, would that let them off the hook? I imagine that because horse poop is good for the garden, it's not seen as a hazard but I wouldn't like to fall flat in my face into one to find out. Perhaps the horse rider should have a back-pack or bin liner to attend to their ploppers-plop. Pooper-scooper doesn't sound right for a horse, so maybe a new name like 'Dung-Digger' would do.
On that same day I found the horse present, I got stuck in a long traffic jam. I later learned that this wa
s caused by a horse which had escaped onto the motorway. Imagine having a horse coming towards you on a fast road, no wonder they go round crapping themselves (the horse not the driver...although....mmm). But look at this unbelievable story, from around the same area that horse escaped; a horse went to the cinema - it's true, read it. Clearly, there's a horse around Boldon that is really frustrated with life, goes round plopping itself, running naked through fields and onto dual carriageways. And to top it all off, wants a piece of what humans get up to, so trots off to to see a movie. Black Beauty wasn't even playing.
You just have to laugh at Frankie Boyle (the funnier one from BBC2's Mock the Week) and his live tour called 'I would quite happily punch everyone in the face'. He's no relation to Susan Boyle although he has said that there is some resemblance as he looks ridiculous dressed as a woman too. We went to see him at the City Hall on Friday and he was a star act. He's been in the news quite a lot recently for his controversial jokes. Jokes that no one batted an eye-lid at many years ago. I must admit, he was definitely close to the knuckle on some of his jokes but still overall a very funny man with some topical material. He's the first act we've seen who didn't do an encore, perhaps he's just really pi**ed off with people, I mean if you name your tour like that you must be. Anyway, it's all an act, they are just jokes to make you laugh, wince, think and take a sharp intake of breath.
Those who are 'offended' (whatever that emotion really is) should either stay away, or start an "I am offended at everything around me" group on Facebook. Then the same people can join another group called "I am further offended by the 'I am offended at everything around me' group on Facebook". Then they can all be grouped under the generic group called 'I have nothing to do in life but be a do-gooder'.
Haven't posted for a while as there's been some technical changes in the process I use for hosting my blog within my site. Now this has been sorted I'm back just like the Take That boys.
Crazy golf really isn't that crazy is it? Stick a few dinasours for scenery, a water feature, pebbles, stones and small children in the way of the hole and you've got yourself a crazy golf course. It still raises a few laughs though, some people take it really serious. Not me. Anyway, I went along with my caddy, golfing pantaloons and my score board and took part in a foursome! It took me back to the time I was about 9 years old, with friends on holiday. My young friend was sizing up the ball with her club, swung it forcefully back and whacked her dad right on the nose. It must've been agony, lots of blood. Oh, and Bogeys all round.
Too many celebrations in one weekend can make you either want more or a nice lie down. A night out in South Shields was pretty hilarious seeing the same old haggard faces from many years ago who must religiously go out every Friday. They even wear the same clothes and drink the same drinks. It brought a smirk to my face when I walked past a take-away named 'Abra-Kebabra'. No guesses what they sell. The next night we went to the posher side of South Shields where the haggard faces are more nip & tuck ones, a quieter pub in Cleadon.
Now as I recently had a night out in South Shields, you'd think that I would have seen most weird birds, but at a BBQ near the beach on sunny Sunday, I snapped this one. I guess it is some sort of burlesque seagull with feathered ugg boots. Great for cleaning your blinds.
Later on we met up with friends for birthday and engagement celebrations at Tiger Tiger an
d Spice Cube for poppadom's and curry. As always was good to catch up and see what pointless banter is left for us to talk about. It appears there's an awful lot left.Congratulations to Andy & H, a love match doesn't just happen in tennis, but new balls you will always need mate.
I cannot believe that it's a year since doing the 10K North Tyneside coastal run. It was full-on sunshine last year. This year, we had sunshine again, and no wind apart from that which came from a heavy night out the day before. It's scenic all the way and once you turn the corner to see St. Mary's Lighthouse it doesn't seem too far until the finish. I managed 56 minutes this time, a minute ahead of last year. That tells me I'm getting better or my watch is feeling as old as I did after a couple of mile. It was hard going even though I do that sort of distance every week! Seeing the girlfriend's smiling face and the thought of a whopping great Easter egg makes it all worthwhile though.
That's me with the halo in the photo behind a young Rob Brydon.
It's a good job stag weekends are not more than a weekend because the abuse of the body is enough to make you want to sit in a corner and cry yourself to sleep. The first night in Leeds got off to an unusual start in the hotel bar as around 15 transvestites walked in and stood right next to 18 of us who were also men, but not dressed as women. Although one man, the stag, had a lederhosen costume on. This was not his own choice.
the full length of a snooker table, 18 of us went off to ride go karts and hover hovercrafts. This was great fun and it literally shook the hangover from you. I managed to get the fastest time on the timed lap for the go karting but when it came to hover crafting I let myself down, the team down and most of all, I let the hovercraft down. The stag nearly had to do the whole thing in a lime green mankini but he tried it on before the activities and with all that shaking about in the go kart we reckoned it might be both painful and cause spectator regurgitation. I was surprised to find that in our heath-and-safety-mad-country that the bag the mankini came in did not say 'may contain nuts'.
