My first solo singing performance...

I'm afraid this week's Blog tells tails from events over the past few weeks, and has no real theme. I can't talk sense every week (well, talking sense for just one week would be nice).

Firstly, I'd like to ask you, what is the stupidist thing you can think of doing in a thunder storm?

www.ntc.org.uk/intrepid/band/ - Marching Band of TS Intrepid

A topical question, when you consider the amount of storms the good weather has caused down here on the South Coast. Well, I thought I found the answer to that question last weekend, when I was marching with a marching band (the picture above is from 2005 in Lancing, when I was mere Petty Officer - oh how times have changed). The combined band of West Sussex South Region (Nautical Training Corps) was taking part in Broadwater Carnival, Worthing, and local people will know that this carnival made the paper, because the green that the fair is on, turned into a duck pond (nearly) through a massive downpoor. Imagine the entire contents of the Atlantic Ocean being dropped on you in half an hour, and you'll get the picture!

Anyways, we were marching along in the warm weather, wearing only our white shirts (too hot for jackets). Very near the end of the march, and we can't have more than 50 meters until we stop, and dismiss. Unfortunatly, the gap to get onto Braodwater green is about 1 cm wider than the lorries that were in front of us, and they like to take it slow. That was when the thunder started. Suprisingly so, our Tuba player (big metal instrument) decided to put his instrument on the group while we were not playing.... But the people I fely sorry for were the two drum majors (they're the people at the front with big sticks). In order to stop the band, they have to raise their big sticks high in the air (like lightening rods). None of us were hit, but I read in the paper that some bloke with a large umbrella was struck on the day, on the green! A lucky escape for the lightening rod drum majors!

A good contender for the title of stupidist thing to do a thunder storm. And it would have one too, until I went into good ol' Sainsbury's this week. Now, I hate work (like most people), but I love pushing the trollies in the car park. I love the fresh air, and the fact that there are no managers in the car park! I went in on Wednesday, and the boss told me I was govering the regular trolly wally who was away on holiday. Well, no actually her exact words were:

"Let's see what you're doing tonight? Oh... you're getting wet."

Yes that's right, you guessed it! I was pushing trollies during a wet and windy thunderstorm! Pushing 7 million tons of metal around a car park has to top the stupidist things to do! And I didn't even get paid danger money? I risked life and limb for the company!

So having made a total prat of myself like that, it's time to tell you how I made a prat of myself twice in one weekend!

Now, as some of you may be aware, I help a friend run his Disco (SAS Disco). No I don't get paid, but it does get me out the house. This Saturday, we were booked for a Wedding party. It is something of a standing joke at Disco's, that we do silly dance moves to different tunes (I'm the Red Indian for the Y.M.C.A.). Most people are either too busy dancing (or too drunk) to notice are antics, so we can pretty much do what we like.

Another standing joke at the disco is "my song". Everytime we play Madona "Like a virgin", the whole disco team (somewhere between 4 and 6 of us) point at me, when Madona sings the word "virgin" (if you can't work out why, ask you Mummy). So, this is something of a tradition. I hear the start of the song, and I move to the centre of the Disco, so everyone can point at me. This week was particularly special, as we all had numbers with words on our backs (there were 5 of us, and we were numbered 1 to 5, so people could count us easily). My word was "VIRGIN".

So anyways, the song came on, and I moved to the centre. Now the team claim they are doing this so that some women will take pitty on me, and "help me out". I think they just do it to embaress me, but I'm game, so hey ho. Madona sings virgin, they all point at me, and I spin so that anyone watching can see the word on my back. As I said earlier, normally no-one watches what we're up to. However, that night, for the first time EVER, someone makes a comment. It wasn't some young attractive women, but a 50 year old women!!!! (it could have been a man I suppose) Not quite the results I was after - needless to say, I was embarressed.

To bring us back to the beginning of my Blog, I embarressed myself again, while I was out with the Regional band. Today (or yesterday now, as it's 0045) we were playing static (not marching) at Selsey Lifeboat Station. One of the tunes we play is called Heart of Oak, and we can't actually play the whole song. Only a handful of people know the middle bit of this tune, and they have left! But we still play it, because it's the Royal Naval tune.

But what do we do when we get to that middle bit? We sing of course! This started in Lancing in 2005, and at the right moment, everyone la's the tune (including officer's waling with the band). This is normally fine, because we are marching, and any reaction is left miles behind. But today we weren't marching. If people didn't appreciate our comic wit, we could get linched! I was slightly nervous because if this, but I'm a proffesional. I hadn't occurred to me that everyone else had the same thought. So that part of the tune came along, and sure enough, I started up singing...

"Dud-da dah dud-da dah, Dud-da dah..." and so on.

Only thing was, my voice was the only one that I could hear. Yep, I was the only dipstick who sung (although others claim to have joined in [very quietly]). So I sing my heart out. Everyone in the crowd is looking at me in disbelief! My C/O (boss), another ship's C/O who both know we do this, just look at me as if I've grown two heads. I was right, just no other sod joined me. Was it planed? Who knows. Anyways that part of the song passed (and I just managed to do it, before I cracked up with laughter), and the rest of the band (with their instruments) joined in again. The crowd thought it was great! The applause started half-way through, and there were several shouts from officer's that didn't know we did that "Go on Andy!" shouted Sean.

Well, I felt like a right pillock, but I pulled it off!

That's the end of this weeks post, you'll be glad to hear. Was this Blog to long? Is it only getting longer. Did you reach the end? Should I have stopped several paragraphs ago? Weeks ago? Leave a message and tell me to shut my big fat mouth! Then your boss won't tell you off for taking so long reading this dribble. Cheers.

My Courtesy Car!

Thought you might like to see the Courtesy wagon o' speed! I'll advertise them while I'm at it. First Rate service, and nice guys.

W. Jones of Bognor (Ford Specialist)
Ford Escort 1.6i LX ('94 K reg)
£895

Blogspot's picture upload thing is fixed!

What a capital (city) idea!

Hopefully, this week's punn will become obvious later on in the story, but first things first...

Those of you that read my Blog regularly (and might just care) might remember I was getting a courtesy car last week, whilst my beloved Ernie the Escort went in for his MOT and service (he passed with no advisories by the way). My courtesy car turned out to be pretty much anything I wanted in their Ford showroom, if I'd waited long enough. I instead decided that the 1994 Ford Escort Hatchback, 1.6i LX was good enough. Uncomfortble as sin, but went like poo poo off the proverbial shovel. I would show you a picture, but Blogger's picture tool is up the spout.

Anyways, on with this week's story...

Last week, a friend of mine from Uni (probably one of the most attractive young women you will ever meet - Holly) passed on an invitation to a House Party (from another friend from Uni - Paul). So Holly encourages me to go, and I reply to Paul.

The house party was in Barking (near London), and on the Saturday I decided (in my infinite wisdom) to drive through the centre of London to see the sights. Oh what a great idea that turned out to be. I could find my way to Wandsworth easily enough, and from there, I could navigate my way through Central London (as I played "The Getaway" on PS2 often enough when it came out - I know Central London like the back of my hand).

So, I drive through Parliament square, past Buckingham Palace, down the Mall, round Trafalgar Square, and through Picadiliy Circus. I unfortunatly took the wrong turning off Picadily circus, and ended up going through China Town, and then heading North. I wanted to go East (to Barking), but I couldn't turn off. Camden Lock came and went (along way North), and I just kept turning right.

It was definatly becoming a hot afternoon, as the outside temperature could be measured as Gas Mark 6! Naturally, I was now sitting in a pool of my own sweat, and getting very annoyed with other drivers. London drivers aren't the politest at the best of times. I was getting cut up left, right and centre (but my Escort held out against them). It seemed that I was getting more left. I checked my compass, and found I was going North, so I turned right (meaning I should end up facing East). Checked my compass, and I was now heading West! How is that even possible.

I eventually (more through determination and luck than judgment) landed on the A13, which leads straight to Barking. I came into Barking, to be faced with... that's right - MORE FLIPPIN' TRAFFIC!!!! It took me 3 and a half hours to get to the address in Barking where the House Party was.

At this point, let me just remind you how this started. My attractive female friend passed on an invitation to a house party, that was supposed to be really big. The invitation had even spoken of a pool party (well a paddling pool party) if the weather was good (and it was baking hot). I naturally rolled up expecting Music, loads of cars, and more importantly, scantily clad women at the side of the pool.

I arrived at the address to find a mystery. The party was supposed to start at 2, and it was now 7. I could hear no Music, and there road didn't seem to have any extra cars in! At this point I started to wonder if I had the right week! So I rang Paul (I didn't want to go to his door like a total prat if it had been cancelled, or was the wrong day).

No-one else had turned up! except one of Paul's male friends from college/ school. I had expected a heaving party, and all I found were two blokes (and we watched Top Gear!). I drove for over three hours on some of the most stressful roads in Britain, for nothing (except two blokes). I stayed for a drink (as I had driven all that way), and then left around 10, in time to help pack away a disco.

Thank god they cancelled the pool party!

Starsky and Hutch - EAT YOUR HEARTS OUT

Thanks to the HUGE success, and demand for more, me and my friends have filmed two new episodes of CI5. You can now find the episodes on our webiste...

70scop.tripod.com

Go there and see the original, and new film. Episode three will be released in September.

Film reviews and breaking the law... (what a great name for a movie)

Firstly, let me set the scene.

I was sitting in the cinema watching "Superman Returns" with my friends Rob and Scott. The place was jam packed with a mix of Superman know-it-alls (a bit like Scott from the sounds of it!), and people who thought it looked like a cool movie (like me, I'm not a Superman buff - I can't be sad enough to know ALL old movies and TV shows). Good film, although apparently, it doesn't quite fit in with Superman laws...

Anyways, I'm sitting in this cinema, sweating like a Turkish carpet dealer about to loose money, and the only air conditioning felt like a man in the rafters blowing down a straw. The movie finishes, and we make a beeline for my beloved car (Ernie the Escort - see article below). We head out of Brighton Marina, through Moulsecombe, and onto the dual carriageway (A27).

I had to drop Scott off in Lancing, and about 2 miles away from Lancing, Rob and Scott asked me to show them that my car could actually do. I had just said that my car's land speed record history started in April this year, when Ernie achieved 96! Not bad for a 20 year old Ford Escort Estate (1.4 GL). However, this record was smashed outside Horsham, when my car cruised through to 97 (without trying!).

With only limited amount of Dual Carriageway left (with traffic lights in about a mile), I put my best forward, and most importantly, DOWN. I gave my trusty steed all the gas I had to give, and my car started rocketing away...

80... picking up speed changing lanes ready for an overtake...

85... things are starting to get scary, car's shaking a bit...

90... we rip past some other cars, onto the Shoreham Flyover...

At this point I start to hope that there aren't any crosswinds on the flyover, or this was going to get a bit scary. I looked down at the speedo expecting to see mid 90's when I saw...

101!!!!!!

My foot eased off the accelerator, and I started shouting "101, 101, 101! I've hit the ton! 101!" Scott can verify this speed, as he glimpsed at the speedo as well. I can't say I was comfortable rocketing into my home village, but my car had lots left to give. The engine wasn't even struggling. I'll consede that the approach to the flyover is downhill, but the previous record had been set on the flat, without trying. I know my car can do it, and this was just a demonstration.

Tommorrow, my car is going in for his MOT and service. I know there are going to be a few things (there have to be with a car that's as old as mine), but I love it. There wasn't a single car I liked more than my car at this year's Worthing car show - and I mean that. Maybe it's first car syndrome, but I just LOVE my car. (Although I am excited about getting a courtesy car from the garage during the service, but I'm sure that'll be next week's post).

YOU CAN SEE SUPERMAN RETURNS AT A CINEWORLD NEAR YOU FROM LAST FRIDAY.

My rating, 3 Escorts out of 5.

Table for one sir?

Don't you just love these stories where you have to read the whole story to actually understand the title? Well this post is one of them. Alternative titles for this post included "Sleep Deprivation I believe..." and "That was the day my Dad became a proffesional wrestler!"

It all started at the beginning of last week. I dashed off (as I usually do) to the Peak District (not as usual) to do a hardcore rocklimbing instructor's course (Single Pitch Award [SPA]). I leaped around up there for three days, subsequently missing work on Wednesday night (oh what a shame...). However, Sainsbury's in their infinite wisdom, rearranged my hours so that I could still work (t'riffic, just bloomin' t'riffic).

Subsequently I had to work on Friday night instead of going to NTC (you don't know how much that p*ssed me off). When I finished work, I went to help a friend out with his mobile Disco (SAS Disco - either Stuart and Steve, or Steve and Stuart depending on who you believe). It was an upper sixth prom (attractive 17/18 year old females...) so it was all good. By the time we'd packed up, and I got home, it was 2am. Normally this would be fine, but...

I was up at 5.30am Saturday morning for the annual NTC car boot sale (we made £800ish by the way). The car boot always causes some "altercations", where drivers seem to loose any ability to handle a car the minute they get onto the grass. This year, my Dad seemed to turn into a pro wrestler. One of the idiot drivers (arrogant git) decided to dash out of a bay in reverse, and not bother looking for the traffic about to hit him. I stopped the traffic, while he backed out, and to thank me, the gentlemen polite said "If you don't get out of the F*cuking way, you're going to F*cuking get run over!"

I thanked him for his advice, but my Dad started walking towards the guy, shouting "If you don't F*cuking watch your mouth I'm going to deck you..." The driver started to drive off, but my dad started to run after him, and did a Karate kick into the side of his car. Ohh boy...

Dad left early, as he was taking Mum on a dirty weekend to see a Band Competition in Bath. I was out Saturday night with the Lions club (charity), and I returned at 11pm. When I got back, I found my 17 year old brother (Ian) and 12 of his friends with copius amounts of alcohol. They seemed quiet enough, and I left them to it, as I wasn't feeling too brilliant. How wrong I was....

The group were shouting, and running around, apparently playing all manner of games under the sun. Our neighbours have the patients of saints. When I woke up Sunday morning, I found the house resembled a bomb site. God only knows what they got up, but there was a traffic sign, egg shells, moved items of furniture etc. I left them to it (mostly asleep) at 9, when I took some NTC kids Kayaking for the day. Well they were asleep until one of my cadets rang the door bell. DING DONG!!! ha ha.

Anyways, how does the title fit into this? There was no food at home (Mum was away, so the normal shop hadn't been done), and I couldn't get to the shops, as I was Kayaking all day. I did ask my brother what he wanted to do for food, and he said that we should sort each other out. (The scumbag cooked Bolognaise for all his friends). So this is where you find me. A table for one in the Littlehampton Little Chef eating Spicy Chiken Platter, and a Jubilee Pancake (not at the same time).

What an anti-climax. Bet you wish you hadn't bothered now....