so pesach rolled through with matzah balls in tow and i was left dry in the mouth. my compadre brad, on leaving this wee island offered me what could be considered his trump card,his most rare garbage pail kid, his rubber duckie when he was a wee tyke-it was his george foreman. before i knew what living alone meant,i thought george forman was a fat bastard heavy weight, but now his name is synonymous with kitchen appliances.(so be careful what you wish for, for george surely wished only to be heavyweight champion of the world).there's only one george forman. forget about the 'rumble in the jungle', lets talk about the griller thats a thriller. who the hell needs appliances?.well now i know.this modern marvel, shiny white on the outside,teflon black on the inside, ridged and valleyed to give a burger the perfect texture, was now all mine. i was just waiting for all those years of watching Floyds and jimbo oliver's cooking programmes to be soaked up by my pip like a dry bun in gravy.i dont need a pot and a pan and a spoon and a hoover and a dish washer,all i need is a george forman griller.being a master chef seems so close,so close indeed.
me and daniel managed to organise davis cup tickets. we didnt give a shyte that the venue might be in a back street of glasgow,we just thought 'ey big event,have ticket will go.' we travelled so far and for so many hours that frodos search for the ring
was an absolute joke,certainly not worth writing 3 books. the journey placed infront of us torturous tasks like chatting to grannies, catching public transport and speaking to local inhabitants about yorkshire pudding. in glasgow we partied like partial glaswegians-we didnt deliver a pavement pizza after the night, we chowed the worst fry up ive ever munched,and then we finally arrived to see great britain lose.so i was fortunate enough to get my gruby bear hunting mits on some seriously exclusive pearl jam tickets. if i wasnt all for the experience id have flogged them off for a whopping 400 squiddinks each.but i figured,nah,i hate the f*ckin tauts,so why should i become one.anyhoo pearl jam played after a six year absence at the london astoria. another art deco corner building with its towering domes expressing the corner to a heaving street,tottenham court road. its plastered with an old school billboard with movable letters.the only surprising thing is that it didnt have 'pearl jam' emblazoned all over it.well me and my pepperoni munching wee italian mate andrea got inside.the interior is this cavernous black bowel. everything is black,tiered to the front and rises to a stage.
after a wee wait the bowels of the astoria erupted like a prune induced enema. eddie vedder with his long locks and definitive sand paper grinding voice supported by 3 geet players lunged on to stage belting out 'world wide suicide.' the one geet player mike mcreedy,was honestly a show on his own,that dude played one of 4 geets. he strummed those geets, included the classic v-shaped one, like he owned the astoria. this dude was simply awesome.
the crowd was made up of true Jam fans,belting out his lyrics like they wrote them and all i wanted to shout out was, 'shut the f*ck up, i never paid 40 squids to hear you a**holes singing.'
the crowd bounced to the rifling rythms of the guitars and the meat tenderising thuds of the basey drums and we did too.
wow what a gig,and although i wasn't the biggest jam fan,ill definitely now spread it on my sarmies.
so i met this friend of mine and we were to go out.she chooned me she was on antibiotics.so, amazed and unable to gather my thoughts i said 'gees like what for?',a kidney infection,she responded. so i chooned her to talk to it nicely.
have you ever started baking a potato and something quite extraordinary happens when the microwave clock strikes 2minutes 45. well it all happened to me on a carazy day in april.
while baking the king of vegetables, he spud,the alarm of my humble abode started howling like a banshee caught in a hunters trap. i figured,ey its probably a test run,like when youre at achool during exams and some kid gets their mate to phone in a bomb scare.but i got it all wrong. the frenchie i stay with went to do a wee bit of reconnaisance,and followed with a heaving call to arms.we rushed to the scene, to be greeted by billowing smoke from some dudes room. trying to kick the hardwood door,like they do in the movies,we looked like darn right mary poppins'.that door,she wasnt budging. 'quick lets get our as*es over to the window outside.' with hydrant in hand i didnt give a sh*t,i was gonna smash that window and save the kid's Marks and Spencers dress shirt. a fellow inhabitant yoddled at me not to smash the window fearing a backdraft-'dude you been watching way too many hollywood flicks'. but then reasoning set in and i simply opened the window.
we blew our hydrants onto that wee fire like we were kids with big water pistols. eventually the fire lads pulled through,flashing lights and two,yes two trucks,as if it were 9/11. what a great story and a true adventure for a superhero action figurine. for every action figurine needs CV references when applying for work.
anyhoo folks keep it real,and put suntan cream on when youre out in the sun even if it is over cast.
sweetly
the dan russian bear hunter master swordsman, and fire fighting action figurine,with wee dag with spots called charlie sold separately
and dont forget folks when you have chhiken pox as a kid your folks tell you not to scratch, but im now telling you, scratch scratch till they turn into scabs
- ps.note me and my pa hunting bears in paris
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