» Crap meals out

More crap then meal out
Remember the Total eclipse a few years ago?
(where the moon covers the sun for a few seconds and it all goes dark. Really cool. No it is, really)

Aaaanyway, me and my mate Jam heard that the best place to view it was on the beach in a Cornish village called Falmouth. So we thought it would be cool to drive the 500 odd miles down there to get a better look at it (I know, i know)

Being northern dogsacks we hadn't been down south much and the whole experience got a little bit too much for us. We started to act up and become the typical loud and brash northerners that we looked lik. Mainly because it was fun seeing the look of contempt on the posh southerners faces and mainly because we were pissed.

Cutting a long story short.

We went out the night before the eclipse to an out door restaurant. This was a novelty to begin with. You don’t get many out door eating establishments oop north. Well, not counting hot dog stands etc etc

So, we ordered some grub and a few beers. They didn’t have any pies so we ordered some southern muck. Pasta or something.

Now the place was busy (due to the eclipse). So we settled down with our beers and enjoyed the view.

Cue several beers later. No food. Another beer. No food. Another beer. What were these shandy twats doing?? We only ordered pasta!

So, being reasonable chaps we complained nicely. They brought us out more beers for free (bonus). Still no food. Another complaint and they said that they had run out of pasta! So we re order and get more beers on the house.

So it comes up to the hour mark, still no food. Rather noisy complaint from us. More free beers from them. At this point we had had no food and had been sinking as many free beers as we could manage (all this on an empty stomach).

Then we notice other people who ordered after us being served with pasta!

Right!

Now imagine that scene from With Nail And I (in the tea rooms) but replace it with two very pissed loud northerners. “Fuck you we’re off. And we’re not paying for the beers cocker!” (or something along those lines). The waitress seemed quite pleased about this and cleverly made no attempt to stop us.
Their food looked and probably was shite anyway.

The funny part of the story is when we got back to our campsite I had a few drags on a funny cigarette. Surprisingly this sent Jam under and straight off to sleep

I on the other hand was left with a dilemma. I either needed to be sick or I needed to defecate. In my pissed mind I chose the latter. Which would have been fine if I was near a toilet!

It was pitch black and I was in a field with 100 other eclipse revellers (really families exploiting the cheap English camping holiday). Here logic took over. I crawled over and squatted down behind Jam’s car and laid a three day old log which was desperate to escape. Exhausted from this I and collapsed in the tent.

Come the dawn sun the only thing which cured my hangover was to watch from the tent as Jam went to retrieve some water from his car. Yep, you guessed it.

He trampled all over the man egg in his bare feet. The look of recognition/ disgust on his face as it slowly dawned on him that his feet were cover with cack was priceless! Some how I suppressed my mirth and blamed it on an imaginary dog that I claimed was hanging around the camp site. Which he believed!?


I know this doesn’t have a lot to do with food and it’s quite long. But to be honest, I couldn’t give a fuck.
(Thu 27th Apr 2006, 16:30, More)

» Crap meals out

scunny chippy
In Scunthorpe there is a chippy (note, not chip shop. CHIPPY) on Frodigham Road.

You can buy all manner of deep fried goodness in there.

If you fancy a burger, You can have one: £1.50
If you're a pikey and fancy a burger you can have an "economy burger" 50p

I shit you not, that's what it says on the menu!!
(Wed 3rd May 2006, 17:28, More)

» Pubs

PUB QUIZ!
I went to a pub quiz for the first time in years the other day.
It reminded me of my first year at university in the lovely Stoke on Trent.
Those of you lucky enough to have visited the ‘Knightsbridge of the Midlands’ will no doubt know what an utter utter hole it is!

When I was 18 and didn’t know any better it didn’t seem so bad. After all I had just escaped Scunthorpe. What is it they say? Out of the frying pan, into the fire…

Some one should certainly have burnt down my first student house share. To call it a shit hole would be insulting to Grimsby. Luckily I was sharing with a good bunch of lads. But what with lads being lads, we never cleaned up. Especially those who had been looked after by their mummies for eighteen years and didn’t even know what a toilet brush was! A visitor to the house could have easily mistaken us for a load of French exchange students.

So, to The Bell And Bear! Every Tuesday with out fail. 7:30pm on the dot.

Looking back it’s amazing I/we had the balls to venture to such a pub, let alone drink in it.

It was situated in an area called Snow Hill. Snow Hill, as I was to come to learn in future years, was the bad lands of a bad city (technically not a city. Five towns, as any good Stokie will never bore of bending your ear over) To say it was a little bit dodgy is a fair analogy. For some reason this never put us off. We merrily skipped all the way there, as we knew what was waiting at the end of the evening…

Most people who have been to Stoke will tell you that the native’s males all look the same. Begby from trainspotting crossed with Ben Kingsly in Sexy Beast.

The Bell And Bear was like a rat nest. Full of them. The quiz master/ landlord paradoxically didn’t fall into this sweeping highly accurate generalization. He was the spitting image of Roy Walker from Catchphrase. The spitting image.

We didn’t go for the quiz, or the knock off lager behind the bar, or the poisonous Rothmans air, or the surly locals itching for a scrap, we didn’t even go for the out-of-date oat cakes (Stokie pubs don’t serve pork scratchings. Just the local delicacy of the Oat Cake. To heinous to describe...). Oh no, the real reason we went was because of Roy.

Every week with out fail he would read out the scores at the end of the evening on his more than adequate stolen PA system. Every week from the minute the quiz ended we schemed and racked our immature brains for a more insulting and shocking pub quiz name.

A few that I remember are: ‘OAP Jizz Lobber’, ‘I Love Cocks Up My Arse’, ‘Aunti Norma’s Gang Bang’ and my personal favourite ‘Full Rectal Prolapse’.

The funny thing was Roy used to read them out with out fail. What was funnier was his disgust as he realized what he had said. He never cottoned on and read the names properly before bellowing them over the PA.

We used to go for weeks and weeks. Well, at least until we had reached‘Full Rectal Prolapse 5’
(Tue 10th Feb 2009, 16:04, More)

» Childhood Ambitions

ice cream
when I was 3 years old, apparently when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up I responded with "an ice cream man" (sounds like a top idea for a 3 year old as obviously you can gorge your self on free ice cream all day long and get paid)

However being 3 and quite new to speaking I pronounced 'man' as 'van'.

Since this time I have been reminded of wanting to be 'an ice cream van' at every family party and at least 3 times a year in the privacy of my parents house...
(Thu 29th Mar 2007, 19:58, More)