I think I've read this somewhere before...

I need to start this week's blog with an important announcement! On April 3rd, we all celebrate the first anniversary of

CATCOUK.BLOGSPOT.COM

As a result of this, and talking with the government, I have secured all of my readers a very special present: everyone can have next Monday off (9th April). That's right, because you have read my blog (even though you may not have left any comments), you can have next Monday off work.

Anyway. On to the topic of this week's blog. Many of you know that I have had absolutly no material for my blog recently. And have I been graced for this - a blog to celebrate one year of itself? Yes (thank goodness...).

On Tuesday, I sat an exam at University. Now, for as long as I care to remember, I have taken exams, and I now have pretty tried and tested system: find some old exam papers, go through the questions, and answer around those questions. Because you never get the same question twice (well not exactly the same question). So, I found last year's paper, read it several times, answered the questions, and addresses the themes.

So I turned up for my Applied Meterology exam early Thursday morning. I have now been identified as a 'special person' by the University, so I now get to take my exams in the 'special room' with my fellow 'special students'. I've been diagnosed as discleksick... dysleksix... dislec... well you get the idea. So apologies for all the spelling miscakes of the past year...

I sit down in my 'special room', and open the paper. I read the first question in the paper, and think 'Hang on. That looks familiar.' I quickly read down the page... and the next page... and the next page... The whole exam paper, word for word (literally word for word - not just a close similar meaning) was exactly the same as last year (except two 2 mark questions plonked on at the end). Good job I read last year's paper...

After that little trip into the Twilight Zone, I phoned up my local towbar supplier and fitter. I finally got my Christmas present from last Christmas fitted to my car: a single electric towbar with bumper protector! Hooray.Have towbar, will travel. Check out that slick black PVC... oh yes.

When the man urned up to fit my towbar, I naturally offered him a cup of tea. I didn't realise what was involved with fitting a towbar, but I really hate seeing my car in seperate pieces. When I gave the man his tea, he had removed the light clusters, and was currently emptying the boot. After getting over the shock of seeing Ernie's back lights off (like seeing a good friend with a leg dangling off), I realised that the man needed to get underneath my spare wheel. Fortunatly, my boot was empty, but the spare wheel basin... well I like it well kitted.

As I gave the man his tea, he was emptying the area of ropes, jump leads, warning triangles, a tennis ball, a tarpaulin, and spare parts. Sorry. But matters got worse. About half an hour (with me well away from the window so that I couldn't see Ernie in pieces) Mum came in, and asked if he could work in the rain. This was because, as Mum put it, 'The sky out the back is a dark as a nigger's [we aren't racist, and I realise that this is an outdated term, but it is a quote of my unracist mother, using old world lingo]- The sky out the back is as dark as a nigger's a*sehole.' And sure enough, 5 minutes later, down came the hail. Alot of hail. I ended up backing the rear of my Car underneath the garage door, to give him some shelter.

With the new towbar fitted, and alot of hail on my roof (at least 2 inches), I inspected my present. Nice. And after just a few days, I had my towbar in use! By Sunday, I had secured a deal to help Mum take her youth group on a residential trip. With no luggage transport sorted, I offered my car, and said that if they had a trailer, I'd pull it. And pull it I have, and will tommorrow. I'm taking them there Monday, and will go back and pick them up on Thursday.

Could this be an advanced trailer for next weeks post (get the pun...)

Well that's it. A year has passed, and I have only wasted an hour every week writing this dribble. Hang on, that's more than two days... What have I been doing. Oh well let's be honest, I'm a sad git, and definatly have nothing better to do. See you next week (although I maybe a day late - and I'll tell you why next time).

If you think that this blog has gone on long enough, why not leave a comment telling me to stop now, while I've only wasted 2 days, 4 hours.

If you think that this blog is great, and should go on for another year, please send a cheque to me, and then write a comment (can't balme a guy for trying...).

Quote of the week: 'Damn, I wish I had a funny quote for this week.'

Song of the Month: 'Standing in the way of Control' by The Gossip.

Only joking!

It's a good job you don't pay to read this. This week is certainly worthy of a refund, as yet again, I have had another slow and boring week. So, if you'll take a heavy dose of caffeine, and try and stay awake, I shall begin... (oh boy)

The week started with my monthly night off. Last month I went to climbing club at University, and then spent some time up the bar (with free drinks for driving). This month, being the terribly exciting person that I am, I spent my evening... working at the Adult Education office. For free. Unlike Sainsbury's, I enjoy working there, and to be perfectly honest, I had nothing better to do. How interesting am I?

As if things weren't bad enough, this week's main story comes from the dark grizzely depths that are... (intake of breath)

SAINSBURY'S (typed with dramatic thunderclap in background for a bit of dramatic effect. If you didn't imagine a thunderclap when you read that, please go back and read it again...)

After enduring an excrutiating four hours (that seemed more like 8) on Wednesday night, I returned for an encore on Thursday evening. Oh I just love working there... But what really gets my goat about working at Sainsbury's is that when people put in the effort, nobody cares. Now I'm not talking about my effort. Hell no. I learned along time ago that putting in any effort at Sainsbury's is a waste of time. You can do a half-assed job and still get the same praise.

No, I am talking about a friend of mine. A trolley-wally with a difference. He looks like a normal average idiot, but he's actually very bright and witty. For some weeks he has been off work with a bad leg, but he has made that extra effort, and despite still having a very dodgy knee was out Thursday night pushing trolleys around. I admire the committment to truely awful managers. He was struggling a bit, so my supervisor asked me to go out and help him. That evening, I spent an hour-and-a-half outside helping him.

When I went back inside, the supervisor had the cheek to complain about him. Wished that he would go home, and just take sick leave, claiming it would be more efficient. I thought about that, and actually, by being at work, Gerry at had cut the costs to the company by two-thirds (costing just £7.80 instead of £22.20). Of course I felt the need to make my point to the mall minded supervisor.

On a similar line, that same small minded supervisor then asked me to do overtime during Easter. For the exact reason above (no-one appreciating any effort) I never do overtime. I refuse to help them out over and above my contract. So you can understand why I just continued to laugh when the supervisor tried to persuade me to do overtime to 'help the company', 'to help the team', because she knew how much I wanted to be a 'team member'. What a load of old clap-trap. Because of this, I have started a new section at the bottom of the blog. The weekly excuse for not doing overtime.

To finish that night of incompetence off at Sainsbury's, the very same supervisor then pointed to some carrier bags of food, and asked me to take them out and throw them away. So, she's the boss, and I did. I then went back to the checkouts, and another member of staff asked if I had seen a couple of carrier bags. I replied with a quizzical look on my face: 'What, the tw carrier bags I just threw in the skip?'

This is where we get to explaining this week's title. When I confronted my supervisor about the poor lady's shopping that I had to recover from the skip, Wendy replied: 'Oh you didn't! I was only joking!' Yeah right. What an idiot.

Well that's it. Another eye-gougingly boring week out the way. Please give me something to write about this week. But not bad stuff (be careful what you wish for...).

If you think that my blog is getting worse and worse, and that you could do a better job, why not leave a comment starting with the word 'moron'.

If you think that it is the effort that counts, why not (after throwing away any applications forms for Sainsbury's) leave a message starting with the word 'antidisestablishmentarianism'.

Quote of the Week: 'In Wales, they say the sun is like a fox. I can't remember why though,' said Tabs quizzically in the deceptivly cold sunshine on Monday.

TV Quote of the Week: 'I can handle you driving like a p*ss-head, and treating women like bean bags. But I'm going to say this only once: STAY OUT OF CAMBERWICK GREEN!' DI Sam Tyler, Life On Mars. BBC1, Tuesdays at 9pm (repeated this Tuesday at 10pm on BBC3).

Reason-for-not-doing-overtime of the week: 'I try to stay away from overtime - it gives me a rash!'

What a polite car thief...

Oh boy. What a dull week.

The week started with me and a friend at Uni giving a presentation for Psychology. What a great presentation – on self-efficacy. Yay… (sorry, sarcasm doesn’t travel that well in text). If you’ve ever seen a student presentation (or a presentation by any young person), you’ll know how jaw-droppingly boring they are. But I like to think that my presentations are a little different…

I like presentations. Well giving them anyway, listening to them is pretty dull...

After a bit of banter with everyone’s favourite lecturer, and insulting a few students, our presentation was pretty upbeat. Although we lost a lot of momentum when we actually started to talk about self-efficacy, no-one fell asleep. We were also the first presentation this year to get some questions from students afterwards (which means someone was listening…). I like giving presentations. Big thanks have to go to Paul Tyler who taught me everything I know (although that’s not much in fairness).

Not everyone was excited as me about giving our presentation - Phil, my presentation 'buddy'.

Now, I may have had a pretty dull week (topping off with an equally dull Regional Band practice on Sunday. Oh boy was I in trouble with Mum for being out on Mother’s Day. Big trouble….), but, many of my friends and family have had a bit more going on. So let’s use other people this week for a few cheap laughs instead of me!

Last weekend, Holly had her car broken into. What a laugh that is, I hear you cry with equal sarcasm. Well no. But there are some things about the break-in that are a little bizarre. The thieve(s) (who come from the Newbury area) ‘broke into’ the car, without leaving a scratch. The guy or guys then pulled out Holly’s stereo without leaving a mark. The thief then took any other valuables like her phone, and a credit card.

Now, you’d think that would be enough wouldn’t you? But for some reason, unknown to me, or Holly, or just about anyone else, they also stole a set of jump leads, and a Haynes manual. A Haynes manual for a car they didn’t steal. Although stupid, this criminal was still polite. Because they didn’t want anyone else to break-in, or steal Holly’s car, they left it locked for her. How nice of them…

So, if you live in the Newbury area, and someone offers you a car stereo, a set of jump leads, and a Haynes manual for a Vauxhall Corsa, give the Police a ring. Hang on a minute… Where would you go if you wanted a car stereo, a Haynes manual, and a set of jump leads? Halfords of course! So that’s it. Hol, I’ve solved the mystery. It was a manager from Halfords that must have stolen your gear. They must have had a stock problem…

My highlight of the week was when my brother went to hospital. That sounds harsh, but as I told Ian’s manager this week (at Sainsbury’s) he’s 18, a pain in the backside, and a pillock. Ian has a funny toe that grows wrong. To sort it out, the doctors of Worthing & Southlands hospital decided to break his toe, and put a metal pin in it. Job done.

All this week, Ian has had to sit with his foot raised. Some of you may remember me making certain… accusations about his sexuality. And this week has only added more evidence. With his injured foot in bundles of bandage, Ian has to wear one of those special blue surgical shoes (like people wear over plaster casts). Of course, they just aren’t ‘cool’. So Ian sewed the pattern of one of his trainers into the shoe, so they matched (although the colour was wrong).

I have to admit, that’s pretty cool. Although I’m not sure whether blokes should be sewing… But the part of this story that really makes Ian a bit… well odd, is that he unpicked the sewing. Because he decided to wear a different pair of trainers. And they no longer matched. I’m sure many of my female readers are saying that is perfectly reasonable. But don’t forget, I am talking about my brother.

Oh dear…

Well that was my (and other’s) week. How was your week? Share with us your tales of wo so that we can all have a good laugh. God knows, if this week was anything like last week, I’m gonna need some entertainment.

If you have stolen a car stereo, a Haynes manual, and a set of jump leads recently, why not leave a comment with your name, address, telephone number, and a reason (goodness only know we have no idea).

If you have an interesting anecdote about this week, please, please, PLEASE leave it. I get so bored…

Quote of the week: “Bang me, Bang me!” Holly said to me this week, whilst making a lot of very odd noises. I feel I should explain this one to you, but I’d much rather leave it to your collective warped imaginations…

The beginning of the end of CATCOUK

It would appear that this is the beginning of the end of my humble blog. On the week when ratings fall to an all time low (with 0 comments), I actually have to start this week's with... a... g... goo... not bad thing to say about Sainsbury's. I can't believe it. This could very well be the end of CATCOUK... Ratings fall to the lowest on record - 0 comments.

This week at Sainsbury's, I actually had a pleasant week. It would appear that after 2 years, 3 months, and 2 weeks of constant complaining, and aggrevating supervisiors, someone has actually listened to me! I like pushing trolleys around in the car park. Many of you may think that strange, but think about it. Fresh air, exercise (of which I am in desperate need), thinking about the most efficient collecting trolleys from different bays, and most importantly - no management to get on my nerves. Therefore (and I can't believe I'm typing this), I have to thank Wendy who does the schedules for putting me out on trolleys all week. [Shaking head of disbelief]

As hard as many of you may find this to believe, I am not your average trolley wally. When I put my mind to it, I can get the job done very quickly. Obviously I try to avoid this, or a supervisor may drag me back in to sit on a checkout, or stack shelves. It's kind of a code of practice for all guys that work on the trolleys.

So anyway, on Thursday evening, the guy on before me had done a smashing job, and I was left with 4 hours to kill, and not an awful lot of trolleys to park. At different times, I dipped into the store to do odd jobs (like collect baskets etc). One time, I decided to empty the advert bin (this is wear all the inserts from the Radio Times [amongst others] get thrown when they fall out). We use a blue Sainsbury's basket (maybe you've seen them, or you have one).

Because of the leaflets size, we can't throw them in our bailer for recycling - they just fall out. So this box has to be taken to the far end of the car park, and tipped into a paper recycling skip. Normally you have to post all of the paper through a slot in the side, but this particular skip has a gouge in the top. So I always up end this box over the top, and let the paper fall out. Everytime I do this, I always worry about dropping the box into the skip, but normally the paper falls out very quickly - bing bang bosh. Job done. But not tonight. Can anyone guess what's coming next?

That's right. One thing lead to another, and the box was sitting at the bottom of the skip. Usually the skip is nearly full at this time of the week. So I climbed up on the box, and peered inside to see if I could retrieve my lost bin. In usual CATCOUK style, nothing is ever easy, and the bin was empty - all the long way to the bottom.

I could have easily got in there, but getting out would have required climbing expertise so good, that I wouldn't need to work at Sainsbury's. Not wanting to go back in, and admit my mistake, I went to my trusty side kick car, and got out my trekking pole, a rope, and an elastic bungee cords with hooks on each end. I then spent the best part of 5 minutes retrieving the damned box. I leave it to your imagination how I got the box back, or how far the bungee cord stretched when weighted down by the half full of paper bin. Marvellous.

Lastly, I feel the need to point out what high quality tutors we have at the University of Chichester. In our final lecture of the week, I found a balloon. The lecturer (Hodgo - or Chris Hodgson [which is out nickname for him]) felt that he needed to ruin our volley-ballon-ball fun by taking it away. In a desperate grasp for humour, Hodgo drew a 'Coley' face on the balloon. Coley is a most feared lecturer (although not by me) in the school of PE. It was an angry face. Ian 'Coley' Coleman - feared by all. But not me, I just answerback to his sarcastic remarks.

The other interesting think about Ian Coleman, is that all the lecturers are scared of him as well (whether they admit it or not). I wonder what Coley would think of Chris' impression of him. I might send him an E-mail... Also, it is worth saying that immediatly after this, Chris drew on the white-board in permanent marker. Something else to mention in that E-mail...

If you would like Monday mornings back (or whenever you choose to read this dribble) and would like to see the end of CATCOUK, don't leave a message [again].

If you think that CATCOUK is worth keeping, before taking psychological medication you should leave a message.

Quote of the week: 'Oh... good,' said a bemused trolley wally after foolishly dropping a plastic box full of paper into a skip. What a dimwit.

I bet dragons can swim

Harah! I have returned from the Brecon Beacons in time to write this week's blog.

As with all mountain ranges, in the Brecon Beacons there is a little bit of rain. Well, when I say a little bit of rain, I mean a LOT of rain. When I picked up my friends from Chichester, I was wearing sun glasses, a hawaiian shirt, and everything was glorious. When we arrived at a very quet campsite (more on that later) it was persisting down with rain. Which made pitching the tents very interesting.

Of my accommodation on that night, I will say this - it was very luxurious. It had running water and everything. And an indoor water feature! Those of you that know anything about camping, will know that as desirable as these features are in houses, this is all bad news in a tent. I soaked up as much water as I could with a towel, but I still spent the evening balancing carefully on two roll mats, hoping not to fall in a pool of water overnight. Lovely.

Of course my tent was better than Becs'. Hers was so water logged that she asked to sleep in the car. Unlike my tent, Becs' tent wasn't big enough to have more than one option to sleep in. So her only option was to sleep in my car. Typical isn't it. Even Ernie has now slept with more women than I have. Cheers pal.

Now Saturday was a very nice day. For the Brecon Beacons. Sunshine for alot of the day, rain for some of the day, and 'Sminty' hail for the rest of the time. We called it 'Sminty' hail, because each bit of hail was the size of a Smint thing. They only hurt a little.

Indeed, the next day, in 30-40 mph winds and heavy rain, on the top of a mountain (Fan Y Big) the rain felt like tiny nails hitting us. Unsuprisingly, even our £300-a-pop water proof jackets couldn't withstand the punishment. All four of us were soaking by the time we collapsed into my ever trusty car: Ernie.

That's right, my car logged another weekend away. This time, the round trip totalled to 555 miles, with a normal cruising speed of 80. Damn I love my car. The whole point of the weekend was to log some Mountain days so that we can be Mountaineers, but I have decided to keep a logbook for my car as well. This weekend, my car can definatly claim some good mountain days on the roads. Well they were cold and wet enough any way. Ernie was glad to arrive back in Sussex, I could almost feel him relax.

I suppose I had better explain this week's title. With the ammount of rain up in the Beacons, it was almost possible to swim and/or Kayak down some of the paths. Now, from the Welsh flag, everyone knows that dragons live there somewhere, and if they live near Brecin, then surely they must be able to swim. My goodness it was wet.

Finally, it wouldn't be right to end this week's post with going for the sympathy vote. I was ill this week with flu (although I believe I am supposed to call it man flu). I got back home from Uni on Tuesday, and crashed on my bed, and pretty much slept until Thursday morning, when I dragged myself up to go back to Uni. I phoned in ill to Sainsbury's, because I most definatly couldn't work. I had almost passed out in the car driving home. Although I went to Uni on Thursday, I still didn't go to work. I needed to be better, so that I could go to Wales the next day!

If you think that I should stop winging, and enjoy having time off work, why not leave a comment saying that I am a wimp.

If you think that I was brave (possibly daft) driving 555 miles and trekking over the Brecon Beacons, whilst recovering from man flu, why not leave a comment telling me about it.

Quote of the week: "Ahh - so the Alps is short for the Al-Pennines" said my incredibly stupid brother after claiming that the Pennines are in the South of France. Pillock.

Song of the Month: Bobby Darin - Don't Rain on my Parade

DEDICATED TO BARRY 'THE BARMAN' LEWIS
1953 - 2007

Another dedicated Lions member taken by Cancer. Your loss will be felt for many months, but you had one hell of a send-off!

Advanced Notice

Hello All.

CATCOUK may be late getting onto your Computer screens this week, as I am going walking in the Brecon Beacons. Hopefully, your normal CATCOUK fix will be ready by Tuesday morning.

Thanks for reading...

Welcome to CATCOUK

Want a free drink? Read on...

Yes, CATCOUK is, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, now being broadcast on Facebook. Don't know what that is? It's an excuse for students to waste their time on the internet, uploading, downloading, viewing, and commenting on photos, and writing childish messages to each other. Yep, that's right, it's Bebo/ MySpace all over again. But that explains the title. And what about that free drink? Read on...

This week, a couple of things have been going on. We kicked off the week, with my brother's 18th Birthday. We celebrated this fact by filling me brother's 05 plate New Vauxhall Astra with... balloons! My brother, Ian, celebrated his 18th by trying to get seriously drunk, and having a bit of a bender. By 1015pm, he'd thrown up and rung home for help. Light weight. I'm not good with my drink, but I've never been home that early!

Ian like's balloons. That's right, he REALLY LIKES balloons...

This week, certain... aspects of my brother have 'come out'. For starters, he drove down to Gun Wharf Quays, and spent £420 on clothes. Just clothes. Obviously this is a little suspect. Many of my friends asked if he was... batting for the other team. Later in the week, I went down stairs to find him watching TV. Watching Project Catwalk, on TV. Make your own decisions about that one...

Later on in the week, another small event happened. On Thursday 22nd February, 100 years of Scouting was celebrated. It was also my 20th Birthday. In recent years, I have begun to hate my birthday. Not because I am getting old, but because it is a reminder that I have spent yet another year alone, and that I am still clinically useless when it comes to women (but I definatly don't watch Project Catwalk if you get my drift). So, as usual, I tried to keep my birthday on the quiet. Unsuccessfully.

Pick a card, any card. Now that is alot of cards.

This year, my wonderful friends reminded that I may not be in a relationship, but I am most definatly not alone. We started off the day at Uni, and we were planting 300 trees to undo the carbon emmissions from our flight to Lanzarote. It was a soaking wet day, yet many of my friends didn't let me forget it was my birthday. I had handfuls of birthday cards, and a balloon! Previously, my friend Michael (who wrote this a blog a few weeks back) had given me a radio controlled Dukes of Hazzard car (with working sound effects).

Go Whistle Dixie - a model of the Dukes' 1969 Dodge Charger - with working light and sound!

Wow! I have never had such a great birthday in all my life. Honestly, I mean that. Thanks mostly to the efforts of my friend Holly (with the helium balloon). Of course (little did I know it), my day didn't end there. I had been invited to an Adventure Ed house party in the evening.

So, after work, at about 1030pm, I turned up to Kerry's house. Expecting a house party, I hadn't bothered changing. The party's theme was 'Stone age', and as Sainsbury's management ethos is from there, I saw no problems. Also, I was prepared for an hour and half's quick in, out, and home by half midnight. And then the door opened...

Happy 20th Andy! How did I not even remotely guess at this...

SUPRISE! How I hadn't even guessed at what I would see I don't know, but Kerry had organised a suprise birthday party in my honour, with many of my Adventure Ed friends there. I simply couldn't believe it. A suprise party for me? Unbelievable. But the most unbelievable chapter of my 20th Birhtday was, amazingly, yet to come.

Earlier on, when Holly had handed me my Birthday card, and balloon (all highly unexpected) she said to wait for the present that she got me. And she had said this with a very wry smile. I was understandably a little concerned. When the hipe of welcoming me to my own suprise party was over, Holly handed me my present. This is what the suspicious pink bag looked like:

The best things come in small packages? What about suspicious pink bags?

I opened the bag carefully, to find my present. Some of my older reader's may recognise the bag, or may even be able to make out the writing on the bag (all of which I had missed - well I'm innocent). Never before had I been completely speechless for so long. In the bag was... a red PVC thong from Ann Summers (an Adult Shop).

TO GO WHERE NO MAN HAS GONE BEFORE. I saw this and thought of you...

Holly had been at an Ann Summers party on Friday. She said she saw this item, and thought of me. Not many people know, but I am a bit of a fan of Star Trek (well quite a large fan). When Holly saw my bedroom, and my Star Trek books the other week (she was 'round looking at a Kayak), she had cottoned on to my like of Star Trek. Oh dear me...

Well, I don't get emotional very often, but that was truthfully the best birthday that I have ever had. Huge thanks go out to Holly and Kerry who put in alot of effort to make my day as special as it was, as well as to all my friends that helped me realise that I am not alone. Thanks guys, I really did appreciate it. Enough emotional rubbish. Back to normal next week, I promise.

Oh, and about that free drink. I just wanted to give as many people on Facebook a chance to read an edition of CATCOUK. Sorry, there is no free drink. You can see more photos from my birthday, as well as the final chapter in my trip to Lanzarote at CATCOUK2 (catcouk.bebo.com).

If you think I am sad, and really should get a life, why not leave a comment (or write on my Facebook wall) telling me to man up a bit.

If you'd like to see me in my new item of clothing (and it didn't cost me £420), why not leave a message, and say that you have a sick bucket near by. (For your information, I did take a photo, but it really was to bad to put anywhere near the public...)

Quote of the week: "If you havn't won, you've lost... basically." This from Xtreme Paul (XP for short), the man who blurted 'BIRMINGHAM!' when asked about where there might be a place with a 10m tide. Pillock.

Welcome back to Blighty!

Okay, so I've been back in jolly ol' Britain for a couple of weeks, but from a CATCOUK perspective, this is my first blog from England for a while. I must say, it's really nice to be back. And what a great week I've had:

Wednesday I took my new Kayak up the river Arun. Of course it had rained heavily the night before. And that morning. Oh yes, it had rained. And rained. And rained a bit more. So that little river Arun was very VERY high (the banks had broken in places), and the water was running like the Zambezi. I kind of decided that it wasn't a day for rolling and capsize drills, as the majority of the water was cow poo and wee, where it had washed off of the fields (it was a yummy colour).

That of course was when my lovely week ended. The radio in the car had been wrapped up in Brits hipe, and my day had generally been pretty good. But damn my friends if they aren't good at blowing my week apart. Louise text me, wishing me a 'Happy Valentines Day'. Thanks very much you cow!

Yes, Valentine's Day. The wonderful day in the year we people in a relationship are reminded to show their love for each other by buying cheap tacky cards, and even tackier presents. It also reminds single blokes like me what a depressingly lonely life I lead. So yes thanks Lou, appreciate it. What better way to complete this day from hell? Why go to Sainsbury's of course! But better than a usual night at work, we have a new stroppy supervisor. Yippee! 'I will have the last laugh' she said. 'There'll be no more slacking round here. I'll have you boys all multi-tasking from now on.' Brilliant. Well I do like a challenge, and she will be broken!

So I get home, relax with a can of coke, and watch the TV. Check my phone (I don't know why I don't learn), and Holly text me. 'Jibba Jabba [something about project work]. Oh and by the way, Happy Valentines!' ARGHHHHHHH...

Thursday morning, and this is usually a good day. Valentine's day has passed, and it is a beautiful (think the Truman Show) morning. Add to the fact that only two letters came in the post, and both were for me!!! HA HA! Things are looking up! The first letter is all about a meeting at Uni. And the second letter...

I should have known. I should have known. The second letter read (briefly): "Hello Mr. Clarke. Please give us £80. If you don't pay by Wednesday next week, we'll send some baliffs 'round, or take you to court (and not to buy beds)." Jolly good. Basically, these conmen want me to pay £80 because I parked in a private car park without clearly displaying a valid permit. Obviously most people would be pretty upset about this. However, the 'private car park' this company were talking about was at the University of Chichester. I have a valid permit for my Uni!

When I tried to phone them, it got a damned computer preaching to me. 'If your parking ticket has a barcode on it, dial 1. If your ticket is hand-written, dial 2.' Well I never got a parking ticket, and there was no third option. I went to Uni, and they have no contact details for this cowboy operation. Brilliant. Just bloomin' brilliant!

Holly suggested I go to court. She said it's fun. Well, she said the same about alcohol, and that wasn't fun. So I am now trying to contest a parking ticket I never got. All communication has to be by post, and with Royal Mail, that could take 4, 5, 6... years. So, I'm probably going to court, for a crime I don't think I committed. Michael - you couldn't put that team together again could you?

Well, on that note, it's time for bed. If I havn't been arrested by this time next week, I'm sure I'll give you an update.

If you've got £80 to get rid of, why not phone County Parking Enforcement Agency Ltd., and quote reference number CP00261068.

If you work for County Parking Enforcement Agency Ltd., please please PLEASE get in contact. I don't want to go to court.

Quote of the week: 'I didn't realise you were such a geek' said Holly, admiring the size of my... Star Trek book collection.

A brief note (which will make a nice change)

I have added a new video to CATCOUK2. It is the Lanzarote Job, and is supposed to be like the intro to the Italian Job. Well, I did my best to put the background music in. If you strain your ears, you can just hear Matt Munro, 'On Days Like These...'. Thanks to Hannah for recording it, and thanks to Lanzarote's transport people for building such a fun road!

See the new video at catcouk.bebo.com.

Now onto this week's post...

And it all went down hill from there

Thursday morning rolled around, and we had now completed our first week in Lanzarote. I was up early that morning so that I could see the lecturers off, and some new friends from the Science Teaching course. Well, I had to make sure they all got on the plane! Holly also joined me that morning, and we all went to the airport. Holly needed to pick up her 200 Euro hire car (a Ford Focus or equivalent). I make a note of how much she paid for her hire car, as I too was due to pick up a car later on in the day.

Anyways, Holly met the 'rep' from the company. Unlike all of the other companies (Avis, National... etc), this company didn't have a desk. We had to meet the rep, who then took us into the car park. It all seemed pretty dodgy to me. In fact I was ready for the woman to pull a gun on us, and demand all our money! In the end, we picked up Holly's Ford Focus or Equivalent (in this case, it was the Equivalent - a Kia Cerrato), and sped out the Airport. Not becuase we feared the gun-toting rep, but because Holly is a mad driver. I didn't make the mistake of sitting in the front of her car again that week (far safer in the back...).

As I said, I was also due to pick up my own hire car. I had searched far and wide to find a dodgy bloke that would lend me a car (as you have to be over 21 to hire a car, and I'm only 19), and I had found 'Montanas y Cars'! The office of this place was a basement underneath a restaraunt (already sounds dodgy), and as I went down the steps, I'll admit I though 'Oh my goodness, I'm going to get mugged and raped...' Of course no one would want to rape me, I'm far too ugly.

Sure enough, in the office, was Michael (no not Michael who had previously broken me out of jail) a German with interesting facial hair. Now I wouldn't say that it wasn't above board, but I'm too young (and he knew this), and he never asked to see my paper driving license (which again is a legal requirement). 100 Euros later, and I was the proud renter of my very own Opel Corsa - Carlos the Corsa! White (shows the rust) 5-door, with colour coded bumpers! When Michael had handed me the keys, he had said to me (please imagine this is a Russian accent - it makes him sound more dodgy) 'It is an old car. Has many, many scratches. If you scratch it - do not worry!' On the outside the car actually looked pretty neat (see CATCOUK2 for pictures), but the inside was sandy, muddy, and a complete tip! Lovely. Well the car went and the radio worked. What more could I want?

For the rest of the week, I drove people around (for petrol money) which was great! I love driving, and I didn't have to plan anything all week! At this point I have to apologise. When I set petrol prices, I failed to take into account Lanzarote's petrol prices (which were half UK prices). I had never meant to make a profit, but in the first week I spent 100E, whilst in the second week, I only spent 20E. Sorry.

Bearing in mind that I paid half of what Holly had paid for her two week old Kia (which, despite being a Kia, was lovely), my car was still great! It had a revolutionary air conditioning system that allowed air (and a hand) in through the top of the drivers door, whilst fully closed! It was great for those hot sunny days. Less funny during the tropical rain storm though (yes, it did happen). Of course, not having driven for a week, Carlos felt fast! That was until I got back to Blighty, and drove Ernie again, and realised my 1986 Escort was a Formula 1 car!

Many of my friends suggested I 'rag' poor old Carlos the Corsa (that is to say throw it around). But I kept telling them that if I loved a car, it would love me back (and not breakdown) - and this car needed ALOT of love! So much so, that when we went surfing on Friday, I took some time to clean thge inside of the car with 'Multi Usos' spray. But of course by the end of the week, I was doing handbrake turns (my first ever I add), and I was redlining the rev counter. Alot.

Side line story: Batman (or Simon if you must), Thom, and Guy decided to rebuild their room, and make a fort (like we used to when we were kids and bored). Again, see CATCOUK2 for photos! That night was a rave, and many people went to bed around 6/7am. When Thom woke up in the afternoon, stark naked face down on the floor, he found a pile of neatly pressed towels next to him. Yes that's right! The cleaner had been in. I'd have paid good money to see her face when she opened up to find their 'Fortress', and Thom on the floor!

Sunday night, many people were feeling (understandably) delicate from the night before. Holly and Kat had booked out a TV, and we saw on the Sky News headlines that Top Gear had screen the Richard Hammond crash! We'd all forgotten. Panic soon spread around the group. But fortunatly my Mum had remembered, and got my brother to record it. We all relaxed, didn't bother getting the repeat on Tuesday recorded, as we had a recording. Little did I know that my brother was incapable of using a video recorded, for when I got back, I found that my retard of a brother had, instead of recording an hour of Top Gear, recorded an hour of static - on the wrong chuffin' channel! What an idiot. (Thank goodness for BBC3!)

Monday night was Karaoke, and I had been challenged to drink 5 bottles of Cider (Strongbow). Yes, by 12 o'clock, several badly sung songs later - I was drunk! For the first time in my life. I only drank 1 ltr of 5.2% Strongbow in 2 hours, but when you think I don't drink, that's not bad. When I got to bed, and rested my head on my pillow (yes my pillow, on my own - unfortunatly, but I didn't want any funky Spanish diseases) the room span! Wahay! I slept well that night.

Well, I couldn't really finish this post, with out a little 'Holiday 2007' message to all of you. NEVER TRAVEL WITH FIRST CHOICE AIRWAYS - THEY'RE CONNING SO AND SO's. On the way out to Lanzarote, we had 20kg for baggage. On the way back, they felt it necessary to reduce this to 15. But we could buy extra kilos for 9Euros each! Obviously everyone panicked. I ended up taking loads of stuff out of my bag, and clipping it, hanging it, stuffing it on the inside of my jacket. Hence the final pictures on my Bebo. I even had a cheese and ham sandwich under my sombrero!

Before I get done for liable, no one was charged in the end. Sensible really, as they had 30 very unhappy students breathing fire down their necks! But it did cause alot of stress. I had three trainers full of stuff in my bag from someone else (that I nearly forgot to give back at Gatwick). Other people were taking wetsuits, clothes, first aid kits - you name it.

Normal service resumes next week. Don't forget to keep looking at CATCOUK2 for my holiday snaps. I will be adding them over the week, so if they're not all there now, please check back later in the week.

If you think that I should of wasted my hire car, and that my driving is girly, why not leave me a comment suggesting that I paint my car pink.

If you think that I was right to treat my car with some respect (well, for most of the week), why not leave me a comment telling me that you drive an older car too.

Quote of the week: 'Look Holly! My boobs are almost as big as yours!' blurted a drunken Maz with ballons down her top.

Guess who's back...

It's been a long two weeks, but I have finally returned from gruelling University work in La-la-Lanzarote. First off, I need to thank Michael and Ian for taking care of y'all these past few weeks. I managed to escape the Spanish law, and return home with my gummi bears!

I know have a great problem, in as much as I have no idea how to express the last two weeks so that you can all appreciate it as much as I did. But why change the format of a life time. I'll start off by complaining, and how even on a good day, a giant seagull in the sky can still poo poo on me from high!

Thursday 18th January, 4.30 am. It is a cold wet, overcast dark morning at Gatwick's North terminal. Having never travelled by air before (that's right, I was a plane virgin - no, I'd never flown with Virgin either), I had no idea what was going on. I got a boarding card, and started heading through security.

After being molested by an old bloke looking for my metal belt buckle, and having my new can of deoderant taken, I wondered through expecting to see the delights of the 'duty free'. Of course it's now 5am, and nothing is open. Even worse, is that we are all told that the breakfasts we had booked on the plane had been lost at the travel agents, and we wouldn't get fed.

Lovely. I then spent my first flight feeling very sick (you know that sort of sck that you get when you know you should have eaten breakfast). But I have nearly forgotten to mention my first take off. Only 4 or 5 planes departed out of Gatwick that morning. The weather forced most other flights up until about 4pm to be grounded. So we took off in some very bad weather. But I knew no difference. The plane rotated back for take off, and when it dropped suddenly (like a roller coaster), I thought nothing of it. Well, that was until one of my friends started screaming and hyperventilating. The plane (and Airbus A321) kept rising and falling all the way through take off for a couple of minutes, and then it was fairly smooth for the next eye-gougingly boring 4 hours. Afterwards I discovered that was the roughest take-off my friends had ever experienced!

We eventually rolled up to the hotel at 10.30am (UK time is the same as Lanzarote time). After the stress of the flight, all I wanted was a sandwich, and to chill out in my room. Unfortunatly, they were cleaning our room. I went back at noon (like the hotel asked) to get the key, and they were still cleaning! Our room was the last to be prepared, and we eventually were allowed in at 3pm! There are reasons why I hate going on holiday.

Anyways, after Thursdays, everything else was pretty good. By Saturday night though, there was bound to be something else. Our lecturers took us on a trip through a lava tube (or cave if you prefer). The cave was 3 km long, and three groups were going to walk through it. The bus dropped off one group at one end, and then took us other two groups to the far end. Manuel (the driver) would then wait there for the first group, and then drive round and meet us at the bottom. Simple plan? You would have thought so wouldn't you.

We emmerged from the cave 2 hours later, and went to the road to meet the bus. The bus wasn't there, but that was to be expected, the other group might be a bit slower than us. After 45 minutes, in the dark, and now cold evening, things were starting to get less funny. Complaints and questions were being asked of Manuel. We tried to phone the lecturer with the first group, but with no luck. Where was the bus and the other group. Had the bus driver given up on us, and gone home? Had the bus broken down? Had Manuel forgotten about us?

No. We walked along the road to get back to the drop off point. Manuel and the bus were still there, with the engine running, but no sign of the other group! We were just thinking of a search party, when half the group appeared. Apparently one of the lecturers had had some problems, and they were slowing the group down. An hour and a half after we left the lava tube, we eventually left for Carlos' ranch, where we would spend the night.

And there is where my quote of the week comes. As many of my friends will know, I have a very distinctive shirt that I sleep in when I am away. For those of you that don't know, it has the front cover of a hard core porn magazine printed on it. I walked to the loo, when I passed Holly (having a cigarette at the time - give 'em up!). She took one look at my shirt, and blurted out (here it comes):

"Andy, I didn't know you liked naked women!"

Now, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to take that comment. Was it because I had been her friend for a year, and never made a pass at her? Did she think I was gay? Who knows. I havn't got a clue. I spent the rest of the time in Lanzarote making blue jokes (mainly because I wasn't making them, or hearing them around other NTC officers - Stuart Ginnaw!).

The next day, we travelled to a small island off the North coast of Lanzarote - La Graciosa. For the morning, we hired just about every mountain bike the island has. They were the best mountain bikes that money could hire. On La Graciosa. Needless to say, they were pretty... er... substandard. I had a pretty good bike (compared to others). Saying that though, my back brake didn't work, it was very uncomfortable, and I spent the next 48 hours sitting down very carefully. Afterwards, it felt like I had spent a very drunk weekend in Brighton - you know what I mean. It was also a girl's bike. Thanks for the hire of your helmet though Holly, greatly appreciated!

The rest of the week, we spent doing research, leading up to a 10 minute presentation that I gave at the end of the week. That formed 50% of the mark for this module. At the end of the week, the lecturer's held a quiz (on the night before they flew home). I think they tried to rig the quiz, so that we would get a question right, and then they'd get one right (and so on). They could then run an outlandish tie-break question at the end, which we could win. They of course hadn't figured that I am just as boring as some of the lecturers. I knew how much a coke at the bar cost (2 euros 50). The quiz ended 7 - 2.

Well that's it. This had to be a two-parter. You can see photos from my trip (with Captions) on CATCOUK2 at my Bebo. More photos will get added throughout the week, so keep checking. I also have a video that will get added.

If you think I'm boring, and you'd like to read Michael or Ian every week, you could leave a comment telling me that you hate me, but to be honest, you could just read their blogs: arethosemyfeet.blogspot.com (Mike) / the-mighty-oak.blogspot.com (Ian).

If you're glad to have me back, why not leave comments on Mike and Ian's blogs (but I'd really rather you didn't, as they did a good job whilst I was away).

Quote of the week: Andy! I didn't know you liked naked women!
Song of the month: Mika - Grace Kelly - also current No. 1.

DEDICATED TO EILEEN FAWCETT

A dedicated member of Lancing & Sompting Lions Club, died last week from Cancer.

Poor Kitty! - A suitably Clarke/Cat based post

This week, I Partatio Basin took part in an Ahh... Bisto night and also happened to go to a housewarming of a good friend in Hastings... All went well, although her cat managed to drink some speckled hen and apparently started seeing things.

Anyhoo I saw this....

What a random picture, is it meant to show that now, due to eating "Asda? Complete with chicken, turky and calcium' the cat could now withstand being pelted unsuspectingly with biscuits and a bowel...? It occured to me, in a flash that maybe the image should be accompanied with the slogan "Have you been injured at work?"....

"I was doing a shoot for my new food range when I was savagely crushed by my own bowl... Now I can eat nothing but slush and my back legs have been replaced by wheels..."

"Tiger recieved four whole tins of kitty cat and a reverse parking sensor, with nothing taken from what he was a awarded!"

Result.

So endeth the insight to the mind of Partario P. Basin.

Someone please unlock the door and let me out!

Still here

Not much to report. Conjunctivitis was confirmed by nursey earlier today, now have prescription for eye drops and am really looking forward to a few days of scraping the gunk off my eyelids (and anyone who's suffered from it should know what I mean).

So whilst I am bored silly at work, thought I'd highlight a few things... if you missed Top Gear last night... then WHY???? Anyway, you can see the Hamster's jetcar crash here , click on the link on the right hand side.

And finally, I'm no expert, but I think mother needs to watch what she eats during pregnancy, those spinach tablets had an effect on Junior:

Come back Andy Clarke, all is forgiven (he makes this stuff look easy!).

What am I doing here?!

Apologies about the delay from the standard publishing time of Sunday evening, but I was far too busy watching Top Gear (8 escorts out of five, by the way) and plucking my own nostril hairs to sit down in front of a computer.

Actually I lie, whilst I did watch Top Gear I had actually forgotten Andy's sign in details for his blog account, and my (newer version) of blogger didn't want to accept Andy's invitation to join Catcouk, so I was a bit stuffed really.

Whether or not I spent time plucking my own nostril hairs I shall leave to your imagination.

Well, so here I am, in the strange world of Andy Clarke.

Scary place this, you wouldn't want to come here too often. It's like the slightly strange Uncle that you only see twice a year, and who usually sits in the corner, occasionally making brief unremarkable conversation with various family members who pluck up the courage to approach him.

But anyhow, I digress. I have to say that Michael's story was superb last week, makes me wish I had gone first (Mr Tyler). Also, I was on an Archery Instructors Course for all of last weekend, and could have entertained everyone with the various stories and tales emanating from that (including one of the girl's asking us why we we didn't like her strap on.....), but sadly not only do I have to have to think of something to write about after having a very quiet (and pleasant) weekend to myself doing very little, but I also have to try and reach the new levels of high quality writing set by Michael.

I fear I am doomed before I begin. Come back Mr Clarke, all is forgiven!

I think I shall have to resort to desperate measures (whilst avoiding videos of myself for fear of humiliation, Mr Clarke), and write again later, when something actually mildly exciting happens. Considering that i am at work (software company, yawn!), I think it may only get as exciting as my doctors appointment for possible bacterial conjunctivitis , it may not get exciting anytime soon..... Stay tuned (if you're that desperate)

Ian

Open Channel D...

Location: Lanzarote...
Intl. Grid ref: 4U 2P WC...

Code: D...

Message: I send this report over coded frequency. Me and Ernie are safe and well. The few University friends that know where I am are helping me develop a plan to exhonerate me. I must go. I may have been discovered...

END OF MESSAGE

All Change Please. FREE ANDY CLARKE CAMPAIGN

Firstly, let me apologise for spelling and grammar, it is a cruel mix of several Whisky's and Dyslexia/Dyspraxia.

Well, it has been a whole week now since Andy last posted and you like me are probably wondering how Andrew is doing in Lanzerote right now... So I decided to a little digging of my own and after turning up at Andrews Angmering Base, I noticed that Ernie, His trusty, perhaps slightly rust Escort mkiv had disapeared from its moorings outside the Clarke mansion.... Ah I thought, perhaps it is hidden away in the Catcave, (slightly Batman esque) but no, Catman andthe Catmobile are similarly gone.... but where could they be?

My mind turned suddenly to that of the Catcouk blog, of course he is in Lanzarote, but whats this, somehow, someway he has managed to get Ernie over seas to fuel his foreign escapades.... according to my sources over seas Andy and Earnie were last seen here.

Disaster Struck however when shortly after landing on the island (lets say about an hour and thirty-eight minutes) he was stopped by an angry looking police roadblock. Flagging him down, they ordered him out of the car to the side of the road, after searching the car over, they discovered an exuberant quanitity of Gummy Bears, lodged into the carpet of his beloved Ford... After removing the offending articles, further discoveries were made, a Puff pastry, complete with British Stamp and addressed to Freda Vonhund, Belgium (allegedly by Michael G and D. Wales) stashed to the underside of the driver seat. The quantity of sweet tasty goodness attached to Ernie had landed Andrew in hot water. After a frantic plea by the group leader and to the shock of students following on a mini-bus, Andy was seized by the police and arrested for "Smuggling illegal and illicit produce into the island of Lanzarote".

This picture was sent to me by a concerned witness (via camera phone) and is the last shot we have of Andrew as he was led to the police car and sped away to the location below.

Here the information becomes sketchy at best. All I know from sources inside, is that he was subjected to Tea AND Biscuits, before being offered a full cavity. Maybe I got that the wrong way around. Either way, he was in jail for a crime he didnt commit and there is no way I would stand for that.

I assembled the finest team available; David Mc Phee, Bob Saget and I. I began by ringing the island police station, to confirm Andrews whereabouts. I recieved an angry reply down the phone, in an language I couldn't understand. So I dropped a name, his name. 'Clarke' their was a gasp, some frantic stutering and the line went dead.... after prank calling several times (angers up the blood you see) I heard words that sounded familiar.... "You Little S**T!" "Ah Ha!" I cried, "So you do speak English!" The line went dead again.... I called, the nineth time. This time, he spoke, "Hullo, hullo. English man in prison. will not comment. only sing 80's theme tunes."

I knew it was him. After three bottles of bob and a bitter shandy we sped via bus to Gatwick, there after being subjected to the ritual humiliation of gerning whilst a passport guy holdsup your picture, we were rushed to a plane. Destination Lanzarote!

Here I can see posing on the phone for a photograph, at the departure boards...

As I munched my way through what had once been an Egg and Cress sandwich, my mind wondered again to the blonde in the seat infront, then back to the question, "how can something be 'new' and 'improved' surely its one or the other. Then with a start my mind turned to cornflakes.... How can people be so careless, all over my shoe..... But this gave me a plan.

Looking out through the window I could see the sun, over Lanzarote, I needed a plan. A good one, not just a "Hmm, I'll google 'friend imprisoned for smuggling release' plan. But a decent one. Upon landing I rushed for a phone. "Please let Andy out!" "No." "Please" "No." "Go on, you know you want to." "No, I told you the first time, No!"

Right, diplomacy had failed, so had prank calling it was time for something drastic. something incredible....

Saget and I arrived at the police station, faintly in the breeze I could hear a familiar tune being whistled... Of course! We grouped together, "Mc Phee, I need a flight suit fake mostash fast, Sadget, power tools, piping, a dustbin lid, a tractor, string, superglue, gaffer tape, corrigated iron, black spray paint and Mr. T." Andrew had seen enough of the A Team to know, yeah, it might just work...

Posing as a bakery delivery driver, I grabbed the nearest vehicle I could find, a tray of pasties and a floppy hat...

I sped towards the jail, it was a matter of timing. Lunchtime, perfect. I had to get in there. I strolled up to the desk.... "Pies, sir, pies sir." It worked, he openned the door and led me down the hall to the cells. Below is a survailance photo from a hidden camera, Andy, on the end cell on the left.

Attatched to his pasty was a piece of paper and a moustache, "Courtyard, excerise time 50 star jumps and be ready..." I pushed my finger to my lips and tried to avoid his startled gaze... I really don't wear hats well. We were set. With the exception of Mr T, Mc Phee had got it all. The courtyard was quiet, the police sedated by the taste of warm cornish pasty, bringing on an early knap.... burrowing under the wall, we pushed parts through and began to build, sadly of this I have few pictures. We worked hard, thirty whole minutes, cutting, sticking and gluing it was done. Finished.

Andrew took a step back, and donned his Moustach and flight gear. Time to go. Taking a seat, he pulled the throttle back and with a splutter he spat excess hair from his mouth and press the start button.

With a roar he was off, airbourne, alarms sounding, we were now cleanly away and heading for the van, springing 'Earnie' from the compound we made a dash north, he would only have enough fuel for a short hop to safety. Earnie didn't let us down, tracking him Via Gps, we stashed Earnie safely nearby, devoid of all evidence and after a good hoover.

Here our story ends, Andrew sprung from jail, but a wanted man with Earnie hiding between the warm mountains and a flight for us back home in time for tea and medals. There is a moral. Several. Smuggling is bad, inadvertant or otherwise. You can always rely on your mates to help you out (not always of jail). Gummy Bears are illegal in certain countries. If you are stuck, if nobody else can help, you can always call, on dodgy 80's television to help you out (and for andrew to hum the tune). And finally, in-flight egg and cress sandwiches are not a good idea, nor is Several whisky's and blogger.

How will Andy's adverntures continue? we shall have to find out on his return.

Until then.

Toodle Pip,

Partario.

Wooden Acting

Those of you that know me, will be aware that this will be my last post for a few weeks. On Thursday next week, I go back to Uni. At 3.30am in the morning. To catch a plane to Lanzarote!!! Woohoo! What for?!?!? I hear you all cry. Well for the first week, we will be doing environmental studies (Oh look, there's a Volcano...). In the second week, the lecturers go home, and we all... er... are allowed to do what we like.

But that is next week. Sunshine, temperatures in the mid 20s (centigrade), and generally better weather than Britain! Onto this week. Again, another fairly slow week, with me watching re-runs of Scrubs, Diagnosis Murder, and other assorted TV gems. This was also the week that NTC started back up! Hooray!! At last some jobs to keep me busy...

On Tuesday, my master-carpenter-wannabe brother asked me to help him repair a door at our Nan's house. The door that he and dad had installed 6 months ago. So well installed, that the door was now sticking. Well I say sticking, when I mean that it was impossible to close the door! The letterbox was also leaking rain water...

I confess, I don't know an awful lot about woodwork, so Ian (brother) loaded up the tools that he wanted to complete the job. He decided to take his car, and go seperatly from me, so that he could buy a letter box cover (to replace the unwanted leaky letterbox). This wasn't a problem, as I had a few things I wanted to do myself.

I arrived before Ian, so I opened up, and awaited him to arrive. Eventually, Ian rolled up twenty minutes later with his 'letter box cover'. We went straight out to the offending door, when master-carpenter Ian said just this 'Ahh.' He looked at the letterbox, then looked at me, and asked if I had a screwdriver, as he forgot to pack one. Fortunatly I did have a screwdriver in my car (equipped with everything is my car), and I started taking apart the letterbox.

Ian then began to attack the door with a large file. For those of you that don't know, that isn't the choice weapon of the master carpenter for this job. I gave him a questioning look. 'Oh, I couldn't be bothered to find the wood plane'. I took the old letter box out, and asked for the letter box cover. Ian brought over this article that, I'll admit, first glance looked like exactly the right thing. Then I held it my hands, and it felt exceptionally light for cast iron, but far too light to be plastic.

I read the box, and my fears were confirmed. Ian had bought a porcelain finger plate (the thing that gets screwed onto a door to push it open). I told Ian this, and his expert suggestion was to 'screw it on anyway'. Brilliant. The porcelain bit might have done the job, but I'm pretty sure the meant-for-indoors screws that were supplied would rust pretty quickly, and rot the wooden door from the inside.

So lets recap. Our master-carpenter has so far managed to forget to bring the right tools, bring completely the wrong tools, and suggest we fit a completely inappropriate fitting. This is the sort of thing that we hear about on programs like Watchdog, and Rogue Traders. After a sulk, and a hissing fit at me, Ian eventually accepts my lowly advice, and goes back to the shop and gets the right thing.

Honestly, I don't know about Master Carpenter. The closest he's going to get to chippy, is by working at Wong's deep fry!

Well that's it from me for a while. I'll be back in three weeks, but until then, you'll be looked after some good friends of mine: Ian Emery, writer of TS Sturdy's 'The Mighty Oak'; and radio star from Southern FM, Michael Gates! Be nice to them, and leave them some nice comments.

Until we meet again...

If you're looking forward to someone else taking over my blog, why not leave a message asking that I stay in Lanzarote, starting your comment with the word 'lost'.

If you don't want me to go, why not leave a comment telling me how much you like my blog, starting your message with the word 'illiterate'.

We've hit a rocky patch

Hello once again. You join me at the end of a very long week. With very little to do (no University, no NTC, and [ha ha] no overtime at Sainsbury's) I have been sitting at home twiddling my thumbs. Of course there is plenty of overtime going at Sainsbury's, but my response to that the last time I was asked was: 'Actually, I'd rather you drilled an extra hole in my head with a blunt drill...'. I've said it before, and I will say it again, Sainsbury's drives me flammin' BONKERS!

So anyway, all week I have been destroying my mind by dusting off my playstation, and playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas (probably inspired by Rob and Alice's Sega last weekend). Although I'm not a fan of all of the law breaking going on, I never fail to be impressed by the amount of work that must have gone on to produce the game. Three cities, stunning countryside views, and so much going on. But I digress...

This week, not having much to talk about other than how much I hate being a checkout operator, and the amazing excitement of a playstation 2, I pulled this out of my reserve draw. A few weeks back, you may remember I visited Rob in his Penthouse (for the first time). On our jaunt out on Sunday, we saw a large set of steps leading up through Crystal Palace Park. And that shouted only one thing to me.

ROCKY!

It's especially good timing, as the New Rocky Barboa film is in the process of being released around about now. I know nothing about Rocky (having never seen any of the movies - they make me feel fat, I mean fatter), but the one thing I have picked up (other than the fact that Rocly is a boxer), is that he ran up some steps. So this is my take on it.

You can see my Rocky video on my Bebo: catcouk.bebo.com.

Also, in my efforts to keep this an entertaining blog, I also did some entertainment work. I recently purchased the new 'Dukes of Hazzard' movie on DVD, for the pricely sum of £3.35 (okay so working for Sainsbury's does have some advantages). Anyways, I liked the old shows (yes another old TV show that I enjoy), and I was ready for a disappoinment (like Starsky & Hutch). Yet I was amazed. What a great movie, what a great car, and yes, what a great looking woman!

But the all important rating that everyone wants to know. Forget Jonathen Ross, or other film reviews, it's the all important CATCOUK Escort scale:

The 'New' Dukes of Hazzard movies scores (imagine a drum roll if you please)...

4.5 Escorts out of 5!
A great movie, and must see for any fans of the old show, and fans of cars, and any fans of women. I would say that this movie is a grown up version of the TV show - definatly not one to show the kids.

That's all folks. See you next week!

If you think that I'm weird for liking old TV shows, why not leave a comment starting your message with the word 'geek'.

If you liked my Rocky film, why not leave a comment starting your message with the word 'idiot'.

A Day Late, but HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Happy New Year! I spent this year's New Year's Eve away from home (hence no blog), and I was once again in a top London apartment with Rob, and this time with his fiance Alice. We had thought about going into London, to watch the fireworks at the Millennium Eye. Unfortunatly, we had just been outside, and none of us had brought Scuba Diving gear with us. So with the rain being what it was, we decided to stay in Rob and Alice's penthouse instead.

The evening was going swell, until it turned into a scene from blazing saddles. After all the fizzy drinks, and build of gas, it was inevitable. Farts left, right and centre. As the picture below quite clearly illustrates, we very nearly had to dial 999 with a build up of toxic gas.

Strong winds hamper New Years celebrations...

As the evening progressed, and we recovered from the effects of a gas attack, we had to move on to entertaining ourselves. For more than an hour, us crazy young people rebelled and played a risky game of... wait for it... pictionary! 70 fun minutes later, my team had lost the game, and our punishment was shots. Of course I don't really drink, so whilst my team mate went to the loo, we agreed to swap my shot for WATER! Drink up Jos...

To waste away the final hours of 2006, we played on Rob and Alice's Christmas present - a Sega Megadrive!!! (well a rip-off from Boots...). The grahics of Sonic the Hedgehog havn't changed in the 70 years since Sega first released the Megadrive, but that didn't deter us. By the end of the weekend, Rob and Scott had got quite into it (well Rob was swearing at the TV screen when Sonic started to drown).

SEGA! As video games go, it is ironically similar sounding to SAGA!

Lastly, you all need to know that for Christmas I got a large blue Penguin! Also, I have an I.O.U. for a tow bar for my car (wait with anticipation for the pictures later on).

P-P-P-Pick up a Penguin. Well you try and think of a Penguin related pun...

Well that's it from me. Hope you all got what you wanted for Christmas in Santa's sack, and I wish you all the very best of luck for 2007.

If you think I am strange for owning a large blue penguin, why not leave a comment, starting your message with 'Graham Norton'.

If you think that my penguin is cool, why not leave a comment telling me how cool it is.