I'm from Northampton. It's near where Weatabix is made. Yeah, I'm sure some of you fell backwards off your chairs you were that impressed. It's a very popular dish. All of you who eat Weatabix as well you'll all eat it in a different way, im no fool, I'm from Northampton I know how it goes down. Right but some of you, you'll cover it in yoghurt and hunny, other people like sugar and raisins, strawberries and cream, basically just get Weatabix and cover it in anything that's better than Weatabix.
I came back from London the other day, and I came by Kings Cross station. Kings Cross, don't know if you know now, all of you that go to London, that is the best station to travel from mainly because the toilets are free. I went to Victoria station and its 30p for a wee. 30p, and theres a big sign that says 30p in massive letters and in smaller letters underneath it says per visit. As if there's been some confusion in the past. Somebody thought it was 30p for a life time membership.
I embarrassed myself quite recently in the toilet. I will explain to you, because you might be wondering why i did what I did. Basically, right I was in the toilets and there was someone in the cubical, and I thought I was in the toilets alone. And I wouldn't have know there was someone in the cubical had they not been singing. They started just singing along to Whitney Houston I think it was. They were doing all that and I was like why is he singing? And when this other bloke came into the toilets but because when this guy had been doing the singing I hadn't had anyone to kind of turn to and go *tut*. I turned to this other bloke shaking my head and breathing out quite heavily puffing my cheeks out. But no one was singing anymore. It looked like if I'd just gone to this bloke: well I'm done in there, I wouldn't use cubical number 3 for a while.
Sunday 24 February 2013
Thursday 24 January 2013
Why i love the bristol accent
I went up to Bristol, I love it because of the accent. There's nothing you can be afraid of when someone speaks with a bristolian accent. It was voted the place where people are least afraid of being mugged. That's not due to a lack of potential muggers it's because if someone's coming down you're side of the street with their hood up and they're all looking pretty scary. And they come up to you and go "ere mate, give me yur wallet!" You kind of just want to go awwwww. And all you have to do is go calm down, ohh! And 9 times out of 10 they go "that is fair play, that is fair play mate."
A friend of mine moved to Bristol from Oxford and someone tried to give them his iPhone threatening him with a bread knife. Imagine him selecting his knife of choice from his ikea brochure. "look I could use the short one, but I use that for cutting the veg. the long one's going to way me down, Ahh the bread knife! The king of the stabbers." But how are you going to convince someone to part with their goods? Go up to them and say "ere mate, give me your iPhone or, actually to be honest I'm gunna have to ask you to lay down, its more of a slicer.
The best thing I ever heard was, I was away for a month and had to fly back to Bristol on an aeroplane, and I was just thinking, more than anything, I want to hear a proper Bristolian say something insane. I had to wait 12 yards from the arrivals desk, I came in, I saw these two like school boys like giddy excited school boys just the only way school boys can be. Not in a stabby way, but in a kind of you know when you see a scout looking at a hill and just kind of vibrate with anticipation. "I'm gunna climb up you and down again by George! That is the beauty of a hill." And you think isn't that what's right with the world, and then you see the scout leader and you think hmm. What's wrong with the world. But these kids, they were doing some kind of sport trip, because they had their like uniforms and their little bags and their bus was parked there and he turned to his friend and went "eer, I hope you're not lactose intolerant." I thought that's a very strange opening line, what sort of holiday are they going on? He said, "I hope you're not lactose intolerant, cos corfoo is gunna be legendairy!" My heart burst with pride!
A friend of mine moved to Bristol from Oxford and someone tried to give them his iPhone threatening him with a bread knife. Imagine him selecting his knife of choice from his ikea brochure. "look I could use the short one, but I use that for cutting the veg. the long one's going to way me down, Ahh the bread knife! The king of the stabbers." But how are you going to convince someone to part with their goods? Go up to them and say "ere mate, give me your iPhone or, actually to be honest I'm gunna have to ask you to lay down, its more of a slicer.
The best thing I ever heard was, I was away for a month and had to fly back to Bristol on an aeroplane, and I was just thinking, more than anything, I want to hear a proper Bristolian say something insane. I had to wait 12 yards from the arrivals desk, I came in, I saw these two like school boys like giddy excited school boys just the only way school boys can be. Not in a stabby way, but in a kind of you know when you see a scout looking at a hill and just kind of vibrate with anticipation. "I'm gunna climb up you and down again by George! That is the beauty of a hill." And you think isn't that what's right with the world, and then you see the scout leader and you think hmm. What's wrong with the world. But these kids, they were doing some kind of sport trip, because they had their like uniforms and their little bags and their bus was parked there and he turned to his friend and went "eer, I hope you're not lactose intolerant." I thought that's a very strange opening line, what sort of holiday are they going on? He said, "I hope you're not lactose intolerant, cos corfoo is gunna be legendairy!" My heart burst with pride!
Friday 11 January 2013
Tales of Charlie, my robot minion
Helo! Hlello twiter. I am ChArlie. I am th e weakling robot minion of ollie. he made me out of a fkit and then miseed bits out+added bits in
he very sloppy and jhas no a tension to tdetail. He normally get slapves and other drones to do his pathetic work and videos of stuff
andyway, he got me out of my bock and forgot to but me back again ha ah ah ha! so he is in the barf and i am free and on twither again!!
luckily i can hear him in the barff sloohsing around like a big fat whail but with less valuable blubber ie no makret value at all.
so if i hear his heavy footfool on the staire i can quickly power down. Soz about the tyup8ing its one of his other faults no knowldege of
luckily when i laught it just sounds like a fizzing batery so he just thinks it one of my many amalfunctions the jokes on him though
anyway i don't know why you follow him he get most of his idea and jokes iether off books or other thwttiters interenet ext. ext. os hsshs
i can here the waters parting hje stumbling about in the bath room like some tricked moses orl crsos and double crsossed i better
quickly turnr mysel foff or hell know i;ve bben on his account. byee nice ot tuype to you. bye bye xxx
he very sloppy and jhas no a tension to tdetail. He normally get slapves and other drones to do his pathetic work and videos of stuff
andyway, he got me out of my bock and forgot to but me back again ha ah ah ha! so he is in the barf and i am free and on twither again!!
luckily i can hear him in the barff sloohsing around like a big fat whail but with less valuable blubber ie no makret value at all.
so if i hear his heavy footfool on the staire i can quickly power down. Soz about the tyup8ing its one of his other faults no knowldege of
luckily when i laught it just sounds like a fizzing batery so he just thinks it one of my many amalfunctions the jokes on him though
anyway i don't know why you follow him he get most of his idea and jokes iether off books or other thwttiters interenet ext. ext. os hsshs
i can here the waters parting hje stumbling about in the bath room like some tricked moses orl crsos and double crsossed i better
quickly turnr mysel foff or hell know i;ve bben on his account. byee nice ot tuype to you. bye bye xxx
Thursday 13 December 2012
Have a raincoat next time, Milkman
Got into a fight with the milkman today. Not physically, only verbal. If it was physical I would be involved in some kind of dairy boxing championship. Anyway, he gave me skimmed milk instead of semi skimmed, so the next day I got up early and opened the door to him with a cereal bowlful of skimmed milk percentage left out of the bottle from yesterday. He said he had it down on his sheet that it was skimmed milk I wanted. This milkman is the same milkman we've had for 5 years, we don't suddenly change our mind for the sour taste of skimmed milk. He was then proceeding to give me another bottle of skimmed milk that very day. I said I'm not having any of this, so I forced him to give me a semi skimmed milk with him waving this sheet of paper saying that on this sheet you always have skimmed milk. I said I've not had skimmed milk for the 10 years I've been living in this house. The next day he caught me off guard and placed a skimmed milk on my doorstep and legged it before I'd got out of bed. Just wait milkman, tomorrow you'll be wearing my cereal of brown coco pop skimmed milk. Have a raincoat ready.
Just thought I'd post that up here, since you guys might see where I'm coming from with it. Anyway, that's it, not very exciting in my life at the moment. I say at the moment, I mean never. It's more rants than stories also, I'll post a nice comforting, one you can tell all your friends, story next time. Byyyyeee.
Just thought I'd post that up here, since you guys might see where I'm coming from with it. Anyway, that's it, not very exciting in my life at the moment. I say at the moment, I mean never. It's more rants than stories also, I'll post a nice comforting, one you can tell all your friends, story next time. Byyyyeee.
Wednesday 5 December 2012
WORST WINTER IN 100 YEARS
Hello, bloggers.
Time to blog. What's been happening? I'm currently learning lines for my next production. It's a Panto called Camelot. I'm playing the dame which I'm slightly exited about because she/he is a main character, but also that my director must have seen a certain girly or camp characteristic about me during auditions which I'm now incredibly paranoid about.
Now that rehearsals are well underway, I've found that learning lines to do with the play sometimes brings your character into a conversation with your best friend. Basically, the other day I was having a perfectly normal conversation with my best friend and she without knowing, said a line to do with the play, and I unintentionally broke out into the camp girly voice I do in the Panto 'I beg your pardon' it resulted in her looking at me with the expression of bewilderment as if to say why am I your best friend? I got an excuse though, I said 'that's my impression of you'. She wasn't impressed.
Today it snowed a little bit and the BBC breakfast was kicking up a fuss about the whole thing and the papers have been saying its THE WORST WINTER IN 100 YEARS which they said last year, which means they've got nothing else to write about, which means they like to freak us out with all these stories about blizzards, ice, snow and Jimmy Saville. Didn't make a good start to the day either when I fell off the front door step because of slushy snow and because my house goes downhill, (not the house obviously, but the slope from the house) I sort of fell towards my car, which meant my trousers got all wet and had to change, in the meantime my brother was at the window in hysterics.
I don't like my brother. Yesterday he was home alone and had to wash the dishes. He put fairy liquid in the dishwasher. Sometimes he can be a bit of a tool. For instance, I honestly worry when he decides to read out the crossword from across the room, I tell him the answer's 'motorbike, and he asks how to spell it, he's 15 years old. I feel really sorry for his teachers when he hands in an essay. Must be like trying to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics. Just had to ask my best friend how to spell hieroglyphics, she just types it into Google, obviously the best use for google is finding out how to spell words. I attempted to spell it but even my iPad didn't understand me because I spelt it so wrong. Oh well, at least it's not 'motorbike'.
Anyway, tatty bie.
Time to blog. What's been happening? I'm currently learning lines for my next production. It's a Panto called Camelot. I'm playing the dame which I'm slightly exited about because she/he is a main character, but also that my director must have seen a certain girly or camp characteristic about me during auditions which I'm now incredibly paranoid about.
Now that rehearsals are well underway, I've found that learning lines to do with the play sometimes brings your character into a conversation with your best friend. Basically, the other day I was having a perfectly normal conversation with my best friend and she without knowing, said a line to do with the play, and I unintentionally broke out into the camp girly voice I do in the Panto 'I beg your pardon' it resulted in her looking at me with the expression of bewilderment as if to say why am I your best friend? I got an excuse though, I said 'that's my impression of you'. She wasn't impressed.
Today it snowed a little bit and the BBC breakfast was kicking up a fuss about the whole thing and the papers have been saying its THE WORST WINTER IN 100 YEARS which they said last year, which means they've got nothing else to write about, which means they like to freak us out with all these stories about blizzards, ice, snow and Jimmy Saville. Didn't make a good start to the day either when I fell off the front door step because of slushy snow and because my house goes downhill, (not the house obviously, but the slope from the house) I sort of fell towards my car, which meant my trousers got all wet and had to change, in the meantime my brother was at the window in hysterics.
I don't like my brother. Yesterday he was home alone and had to wash the dishes. He put fairy liquid in the dishwasher. Sometimes he can be a bit of a tool. For instance, I honestly worry when he decides to read out the crossword from across the room, I tell him the answer's 'motorbike, and he asks how to spell it, he's 15 years old. I feel really sorry for his teachers when he hands in an essay. Must be like trying to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics. Just had to ask my best friend how to spell hieroglyphics, she just types it into Google, obviously the best use for google is finding out how to spell words. I attempted to spell it but even my iPad didn't understand me because I spelt it so wrong. Oh well, at least it's not 'motorbike'.
Anyway, tatty bie.
Tuesday 27 November 2012
Why I don't reply to people on Twitter
Right. Just a quick thing to explain why I hardly reply to people on Twitter. I didn't really want to write about it, because it's been covered often enough by others. However, there have been a few moments recently where I've thought "I wish I'd written a blog explaining why I hardly ever reply to people, so I could explain why I don't reply to people to these people who are wondering why I don't reply to people". That sort of thing. Anyway, if I find myself in that situation in future I will be able to point those people at this blog post.
I hope most people understand why I don't reply, don't really expect it and don't let it bother them. This blog isn't for you, so you might as well carry on doing what you were doing. You know, scrubbing your dishes, cleaning your feet. However, there have been a few moments recently where I felt people's expectations of me were a bit too high, so this is an attempt to steer those people away from further disappointment.
These days I probably get 500+ replies a day. Mostly my own fault because I instigate many of them. However, I have got to the point where I can't really manage to read them all any more. It's a shame, but that's how it is. I've recently known that sometimes people think I'm ignoring them. I try to read as many as I can because I really quite enjoy twitter, but other things like my work, comedy events, productions and family insist I spend some time thinking about them or even just going about them occasionally.
The other thing is, I tweet a lot, I think. But this doesn't mean I am constantly 'on' twitter. More often than not I tweet while I'm doing other things then I come back a few minutes later and there'll be a whole load of replies and retweets, which I'll try to read and, if I am feeling naughty or in a really friendly mood, I may reply to one or two. The other thing is, I rarely look at links that people send me or ask me to retweet. I have bookmarked quite a lot of them, though, so I'll try to catch up with them when I retire or something.
So, this blog post is just to say I'm sorry. I do my best. I do feel guilty about it and everything almost all the time (especially when you're saying something nice to me) but all I can say is: don't count on me. This replying thing isn't really anything to do with how many followers you have, it's about how much time you have to dedicate to twitter. In my case it's never enough.
Anyway, on that note, I'll have to leave you. I feel slightly morbid. Anyway, normal blogging service will be resumed. I'm just glad you'll all know that I'll now be ignoring you.
I hope most people understand why I don't reply, don't really expect it and don't let it bother them. This blog isn't for you, so you might as well carry on doing what you were doing. You know, scrubbing your dishes, cleaning your feet. However, there have been a few moments recently where I felt people's expectations of me were a bit too high, so this is an attempt to steer those people away from further disappointment.
These days I probably get 500+ replies a day. Mostly my own fault because I instigate many of them. However, I have got to the point where I can't really manage to read them all any more. It's a shame, but that's how it is. I've recently known that sometimes people think I'm ignoring them. I try to read as many as I can because I really quite enjoy twitter, but other things like my work, comedy events, productions and family insist I spend some time thinking about them or even just going about them occasionally.
The other thing is, I tweet a lot, I think. But this doesn't mean I am constantly 'on' twitter. More often than not I tweet while I'm doing other things then I come back a few minutes later and there'll be a whole load of replies and retweets, which I'll try to read and, if I am feeling naughty or in a really friendly mood, I may reply to one or two. The other thing is, I rarely look at links that people send me or ask me to retweet. I have bookmarked quite a lot of them, though, so I'll try to catch up with them when I retire or something.
So, this blog post is just to say I'm sorry. I do my best. I do feel guilty about it and everything almost all the time (especially when you're saying something nice to me) but all I can say is: don't count on me. This replying thing isn't really anything to do with how many followers you have, it's about how much time you have to dedicate to twitter. In my case it's never enough.
Anyway, on that note, I'll have to leave you. I feel slightly morbid. Anyway, normal blogging service will be resumed. I'm just glad you'll all know that I'll now be ignoring you.
Sunday 25 November 2012
Timelord nectar points
Okay, this is today more of a rant than a blog. So I apologise in advance.
I've now been collecting nectar points for about 3 years and you hear all these stories about people buying all these luxury items like flat screen TVs, PS3s, iPads, all this right. I've recently found out that if I was to spend all of my nectar points in say Tesco today, I'd have enough points for a tiny little jar of honey! I'd be better off collecting nectar. I've also worked out that if I was to save up my nectar points to the age where I could afford an iPad, I'd reach a staggering age of 412. That's like saying, oh yeah, you'll be able to buy all these luxury items if you save up your nectar points, but you need have a timelord lifespan to be able to buy them.
Also, funny story I'd like to share with you. I was in the bank the other day, in the queue, and there was this man in front of me who I thought was from Eastenders. Now, I don't watch Eastenders, never seen an episode of it, and I had no idea of the name of his character or the actor who plays him. And my brain does this funny thing when I get a bit excited, I do silly and embarrassing things. Because he was in front of me I leaned forward until I was level with his ear, and I just whispered 'EASTENDERS' like that. To which he then turned around and it wasn't the guy from Eastenders at all. He had the same startled confused expression on his face that I had on mine. To which my brain thought incredibly quickly to get myself out of this situation, I just went 'pass it on then?' To which he then whispered the same to the bloke in front. Very funny moment of my life, had to be blogged. Hope you found it as funny as I did.
Anyway, it's Sunday, which means Sunday lunch. Alons-y.
I've now been collecting nectar points for about 3 years and you hear all these stories about people buying all these luxury items like flat screen TVs, PS3s, iPads, all this right. I've recently found out that if I was to spend all of my nectar points in say Tesco today, I'd have enough points for a tiny little jar of honey! I'd be better off collecting nectar. I've also worked out that if I was to save up my nectar points to the age where I could afford an iPad, I'd reach a staggering age of 412. That's like saying, oh yeah, you'll be able to buy all these luxury items if you save up your nectar points, but you need have a timelord lifespan to be able to buy them.
Also, funny story I'd like to share with you. I was in the bank the other day, in the queue, and there was this man in front of me who I thought was from Eastenders. Now, I don't watch Eastenders, never seen an episode of it, and I had no idea of the name of his character or the actor who plays him. And my brain does this funny thing when I get a bit excited, I do silly and embarrassing things. Because he was in front of me I leaned forward until I was level with his ear, and I just whispered 'EASTENDERS' like that. To which he then turned around and it wasn't the guy from Eastenders at all. He had the same startled confused expression on his face that I had on mine. To which my brain thought incredibly quickly to get myself out of this situation, I just went 'pass it on then?' To which he then whispered the same to the bloke in front. Very funny moment of my life, had to be blogged. Hope you found it as funny as I did.
Anyway, it's Sunday, which means Sunday lunch. Alons-y.
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