With the weather getting warmer, the windows have to be left open in my flat. Unfortunately, the increase in temperature also brings the spiders out to play.
Therefore, the nets have come out again!
With every international tournament that England enter, you can always be sure of two things. Firstly, England will go out on penalties. Secondly, a football song will be released to roar our boys onto victory misery. In Euro ’96 we had the classic, Three Lions. Since then, with a few expectations, each song has been as disappointing as England’s performance.
Judging by the song for this year’s World Cup, it appears things haven’t changed.
I’ll save you the bother of listening to the drivel and causing your ear drums to bleed. The song, if you can call it that, is performed by various football commentators. Part of the track includes a section where a commentator acts out a penalty shootout win for England in the World Cup final.
It really is cringe-worthy. After listening to it, I just wanted to climb into a cave and die.
It would have been far better and more realistic if Alan Green had taken part and included the lines “this game is terrible”, “the referee is having a shocker” or “that is a disgraceful dive by Ronaldo!”
Still, we’re not the only country to release a World Cup song. France are apparently doing one themselves – Thierry Henry had a hand in it.
I had a day off work today. When I booked it, I envisaged getting back home late from Frankie Boyle on Sunday, plus I had a few things to sort out. I also had an annual leave day I had to use up before the end of April. It seemed like a good opportunity to use it.
Once business had been taken care of and I had washed, watered and fed myself, I went into town. Having not bought any clothes for what seems like years, I noticed my garments were getting a bit old and even starting to reject my own body. It was time to get some more.
After spending what seemed like hours in The Officer’s Club, Next, River Island and Burton’s, I eventually bought something which I thought I looked half decent wearing. The time spent in the clothes shops was certainly a change from the norm. I have been known just to pick whatever item I see first in George of Asda, pay and get out asap.
One thing I did notice today, everyone in the shops was incredible friendly. “Hi dude!” one assistant shouted as I browsed the jeans and hoodies. “Nice day isn’t it, dude”. It was nice to receive such a welcoming reception, especially from a fellow dude, but I was there to buy clothes. If I wanted a chat, I would have rung a call centre and said I wanted to take out double glazing.
I purposely went into town on Monday as opposed to Saturday as I thought it would be less busy. I was wrong. The place was still full of screaming children, being dragged around the shops by their screaming parents. Then there were the tourists – all with cameras and guidebooks, in groups oblivious to those walking around them. There was so many of them, representing every country of the world – it was like being at Arsenal’s training ground.
After a quick trip to McDonalds, I got the bus home to the safe and tranquillity of my flat.
Going shopping in town, regardless of what day of the week it is, is one of the most stressful things man will ever do! I’m looking forward to going back to the office tomorrow to calm down.
BRISTOL
On Sunday evening, John, Simon, his mate Tim and I went to Bristol. We had bought tickets way back in the summer to see Frankie Boyle live at the Colston Hall. On the way there, we stopped to get something to eat at Nandos in Longwell Green.
After eating our fill of chicken, we began our trip deep into Bristol. Even before we had got to the car park, we knew things weren’t right. A young child stood alone by himself and emptied the entire contents of an oversized water pistol into a cash machine kiosk, while either his parents or passers by stood and laughed… to be fair, we did the same.
A short drive from the trainee bank robber, took us to Trenchard Street, directly opposite the Colston Hall. With lots of time to kill before Frankie Boyle started his act, we decided to look for somewhere to drink. We looked at the Colston Hall bar, but were put off by the customers handing over £50 notes for a few drinks and not receiving any change… very expensive. Had I wanted to be robbed in the middle of the day, I would have got my iPhone out in front of the dodgy looking gang in the street.
Despite spending many of my early years living in Bristol, I do not know my way around the city, especially when it comes to pubs – to be fair, I moved to Bath when I was 10, so was far too young to drink, even by Bristolian’s standards.
Tim led us to a nice looking place dubbed ‘the oldest pub in Bristol’. I say ‘nice looking’; it looked good from the outside. Once we walked in, I realised we had made a mistake. It was a rough, biker’s pub. There may well have been blood, vomit and teeth on the floor – I didn’t check. What I did notice was what looked like a crack addict stoned out his mind in a chair. I was scared and almost soiled myself.
We drank outside in the beer garden. It wasn’t exactly a beer garden. More like a patio surrounded by tall, spiked fencing. I felt like an animal at Bristol Zoo. It was unclear if the fence was to keep those on the streets out of the pub or those in the pub off the streets.
I quickly drank my Thatcher’s cider (the one blessing of the horrible establishment) before running through the pub at great speed.
By the time we had escaped and made our way back to the relative safety of the Colston Hall, it was almost time for Frankie…
FRANKIE BOYLE
Frankie Boyle’s tour is called I Would Happily Punch Every One of You in the Face. Given the title, as well as Boyle’s past material and reputation, I expected a show full of controversy and offensive material.
I was not wrong. I will not repeat the jokes on here. Firstly, I do not have the comic skills to deliver them in the manner in which he does. I probably wouldn’t get away with them either and would no doubt be branded a sick and twisted bastard… a bit like Frankie Boyle.
Oh, and yes, he did do THAT joke (which, by the way, I didn’t actually think was that funny and certainly far less offensive than his other stuff).
Overall, an enjoyable evening; but very, very dark, crude and offensive. If you like comedy that pushes the boundaries, not only to the edge, but totally over to the other side; or you simply have a heart of stone and are not offended by anything whatsoever, then this show is for you. Otherwise, stick to the ever so nice, and equally funny, Russell Howard.
Ali G, Dangerous Dave, Me Julie… your boys took one hell of a beating!
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
