Adventure Education Social - October

Hello, Bonjour, Gutten Tag, Ola, Kiora, and Bonnet-de-doche! Welcome to another awe-inspiring post from the one and only CATCOUK (yeah right, but the build up was good!)

As many of you will know, I am a scumbag University Student at the University of Chichester, studying ADVENTURE EDUCATION (basically an excuse to go Kayaking and Climbing, but with a bit of theory thrown in...). There aren't many of us on our course (30 per year group), and we organise social events to get to know each year group better. This month, some of the lads in my year decided to organise a male-only trip to 'the clinic'.

For those of you that havn't already cottened on, a couple of my friends have been having some pains in some... personal areas (for those of you that are under 18, they have a cold). University life being what it is, these guys have clearly had a good time (something that I'm missing out on somewhere). Anyways, 3 out of the 4 that live in a house together, decided to go to 'the clinic', after having some discomfort down there (again, if you're under 18, they recently went to Australia). The fourth housemate (not wanting to be left out) joined the band wagon (he really didn't have any problems, he just wanted the trip out... nice).

As word got around, another two bloke from my course (who had equal issues) decided to join the social outing, and this Thursday, they all had a 'clen out' (once more, if you're under 18, it was their nose that was cleaned out). Now, as many of my male readers now sit there with their legs crossed, I have the pleasure of reporting that the all clear was given to all 6 people - no STD's there (lastly, if you're under 18, none of them were allowed to join the Special Tactical Devision in the Army because of their cold).

Normally, I can't attend socials because I work every evening of the week. But this was one social I'm quite pleased I couldn't attend!

Now, on the subject of Adult Games ([sigh] so fo those under 18, this means games like Poker...) a poll came out this week, of the best cars to play... er... POKER! The number one car for this type of... 'activity' is a VOLVO ESTATE (which I drove for 4 months!!!). My readers will be pleased to hear that I can confirm this. A Volvo V70 is a great car for playing adult games in the back - I once played Chess in the back with my friend Louise (but that was all).

Who needs a Jaguar? My cat (Monty) helping to make my Dad feel like he drives a Jag. But he doesn't need to, because this is the award-winning Volvo V70 - the best car for playing 'Doctors & Nurses' in! Think how many stretchers you could get in the boot...

Anyways, the fun of this poll doesn't end there! Oh no. Guess what car came 5th? That's right! A FORD ESCORT (which for those of you that havn't realised by now, I drive!). I'm sure many of my female readers are swooning at the thought of my car's back seats, and I'm open to offers. Just start your comment (below) with - I'D LIKE TO PLAY CHESS WITH YOU. I have to warn all readers though, that my rear suspension isn't that soft...

In the words of the Hoff this week - Jump in MY car! - Me with my Ford Escort - statistically the 5th best car for playing 'Hide the Sausage' in - and look! I've got an Estate! Think how many sauages you could fit in there!

No really, Jump In My Car - I've blown the picture up so that you can see my T-Shirt. To support the Hoff's attempt at No. 1 I wore my Knight Rider T-Shirt. Look! It's the Hoff! (Sad thing is, I took this picture back in May!)

Anyways, that's it from me this week! Shock horror! This week's post was short and painless (just like the Adventure Ed social - so my colleagues assure me....).

If you've enjoyed playing Poker in an Escort, and you feel the findings of this poll was inaccurate, why not leave a comment suggesting that I buy a new car?

If you'd like to test the findings of this poll, why not leave a comment asking for my Dad's E-mail address...?

BEBO UPDATE - October

Hi CATCOUK addicts.

catcouk.bebo.com

New Quiz and a New Poll on my Bebo. The best score on the 30th October 2006 of the October quiz will win A MARS BAR. Get quizzing guys and gals - but not before you read this weeks post - just below.

Smile for the camera!

It's that time of the week again. Another post from CATCOUK, and another hour long read ahead of you (well, I did always read slowly...)

This week, I bring you news of great joy! In the media this week has been alot of stats about Speed Cameras. Obviously, there isn't a single sane driver in the U.K. that actually likes the damned things (and for our international readers, I'm sure other countries hate them as well). In fact, I can provide proof to you, that we as the British public hate the pesky things.

I was driving to Band practice this Monday evening. Part of my route goes along a stretch of dual carriageway that has had many accidents over the years. Quite rightly so, the local council have lowered the speed limit (from 70 to 50mph), resurfaced the road, added other restrictions (like closing junctions, and adding traffic lights). Anyways, these methods have greatly reduced the number of accidents, and you couldn't really call this road an 'ACCIDENT BLACKSPOT' any more.

But not happy with making our life miserable with tax, and eveything else they do, the concil decided to add a speed camera to this bit of road. Without really telling us. I drove along here on Saturday, and there was nothing - not even builders/ or highway men as I think I'll call them. They put this camera up on Sunday apparently. Naturally, I put the anchors on to make sure I'm doing less than 50 (which, for legal reasons, I must already have been doing...).

I drove past this same camera again later in the week. I was prepared for it this time, so I 'made sure I was at speed' (ie slowed down) early. But as I drove past, I noticed the camera looked a little bit odd. On the return journey, I saw that something had happened to the camera! After many minutes of laughter, I realised that the locals had clearly decided to take action on our council's new 'cash fund'.

Smile for (or is that LAUGH AT) the camera: WSCC latest cash fund destroyed.

It turns out, that the camera was burned Monday night, less than 48 hours after it had appeared! The culprit placed a tire around the top of the camera, and then set the tire on fire. Local coppers say that they believe this is the action of a Nationwide group, that go around doing this to cameras all over the country. It's not a local person just copying the idea of other drivers accross the country...

The council say that they will replace this camera, as local people want it. Now I'm no expert, but this camera was burnt down 48hrs. after it was put up. Local people WANT IT?!?! Right.... The council clearly havn't taken the hint on this one.

If you think speed cameras are a good thing, and the 15% of accidents they prevent to stop are worth while, why not leave a comment telling me what a good driver you are (just after phoning the police to try and implicate me in this arson attack).

If you hate speed cameras more than the thought of the 'Hoff' in the shower [shudder], why not leave a comment saying what an excellent driver you are, and that Speed Cameras cause more rear-ending accidents, than they prevent.

[LEGAL NOTICE: CATCOUK and it's editor(s) have in no way participated, nor support the illegal activities involved with the Speed Camera mentioned in this post. Any comments made that sound like support for this kind of activity, are made purely in jest, and readers should respect the law and understand that CATCOUK does not encourage anyone to start burning speed cameras by putting tires around the tops, and setting light to them - think of the environmental damage. If you'd like to discuss this further, or bring me in for questioning, why not leave a comment, starting your comment with "Hello, hello, hello. What's going on 'ere then".]

My week in a Sardine Tin

Hello again. I have to start off by apologising for last week's substandard, very poor, could do better post. It was uterly, utlery useless (a bit like the RAF, as quoted from a leaked E-mail). This week's post (I hope) is a better.

This week my car was not very well. As regular readers will know, I drive a classic car, and I am the envy of car lovers everywhere! I own a 1986 Ford Escort 1.4 GL Estate, complete with characteristic rusty rear wheel arches. My car is nothing short of incredible (if I do say so myself), and has served me faithfully and reliably for a whole year. But alas, the dream could not go on...

I handed my car over to the garage this week, as it had a coolant leak. Not being very mechanically minded, I had hoped that it was a dodgy hose somewhere, and it would be a case of a bit of gaffa tape, £50 thank you very much. I had hoped! It started off badly, as I was 'delayed' at home (I overslept), so didn't arrive at the garage until 11am. I had agreed to use a courtesy car while my car was with them, and I naturally looked forward to it. Last time I got a choice of cars out of their showroom (and I got a 10 year old top of the range 1.6i Escort that went... very fast!). But we must remember that I was late, so I was punished. Harshly.

My car for the day (and thank god it was only for a day), was a Ford Ka. I'm sure it's a great little car, and many people really liked it. But that's just the point. It's a LITTLE car. I felt like I was driving one of those clown cars, that you have to sit on top.

But that's a GIRL'S car.... My courtesy Ka! (get the pun - Ka's pronounced car... ha ha ha...)

So, I get this car, and I find more and more things that annoy me about it. I have to start with saying that I didn't think that I would find a car with less spec than my 20 year old Escort. Granted, my car was far from the basic model, but technology has moved on so much! This Ka had the electrical ability of a walnut! No electric windows, no air-con, no CD player, not even electric mirrors (which my car DOES have...). Bearing in mind that this car is about 30 cm (1 ft) long, and my car is 5 metres (15ft) long, you'll understand my disbelief that this car needed POWER STEERING! You'd have to have lost the will to live to actually need power steering in a car THIS small...

Even the radio was less able than what I have in my car. This radio had the ability to remember three FM stations, and could only recieve FM stations (whereas my car saves 6 stations in each band [FM, MW, LW]). The display, despite being at least 10 years newer, looked like it was off a £5 wrist watch. See the picture below if you don't believe me. This radio is about three times the size of the car, yet had all the sophistication of a 1940's wireless!
Less ROLLING stones, and more STONEage!: check out the wrist watch inspired display.

So after my initial rants, we move onto me actually driving away. The garage is in Bognor, and I was going to University in Chichester. I was using the A259, and just before Chichester, there is a bit of dual carriageway. As with any courtesy car, it's law to see what the car is able to do. I was impressed, the car pulled well (a good point!?!?!). Whenever I 'put my foot down', I always keep an eye on the rev' counter, to see how hard the car is working. This car didn't have one. The engine didn't even make good car noises, so it could have been about to blow up, and I wouldn't know. Just shifted up to be on the safe side.

But also, I have to point out how small the wheel is. Most cars have a wheel that could be descibed as plate size, or bigger. This car's steering wheel was more closely related to the saucer family. It was tiny. Mind you, the car didn't need anything bigger.

All revved up? I was, but as for the car - who knows...

I arrived at Uni, very annoyed with the whole driving experience. But hey, it was only for a day. Bit of gaffa around a hose. Right? Wrong. I got a call from the garage: new radiator, new water pump, new cam belt - £256 thank you very much. Brilliant. Bearing in mind I've done 14 000 miles in the car, I suppose that's not really too bad. So I'll pay it. Real downside though, I couldn't pick the car up until the following evening.

But the story doesn't end there. Oh no. With each passing day, there was a supply problem. And with each day , I realised something else I hated about the Ka. The suppliers had trouble getting me a radiator, as my car was 'so old' (cheeky beggars...). The next day, the suppliers had sent the wrong radiator. Lastly, on Friday (after spending 4 days in that... sarding tin) I got my car back.

Other problems with the car included: the shape reminded me of high heeled shoes (I'm not that kind of bloke); it didn't acclerate from standing very well (I got to just the point where I'm thinking "Oh my god that car is going to hit me!" and the car finally finds some power); and on the last day, the indicator noise went mad, and just kept clicking. Kept clicking so much, that it came to the point where I went mad and quietly asked the indicator clicky noise thing to "SHUT UP!!!!!".

Eventually Friday came, and I saw my repaired car! I paid the bill (which I was happy to do, to get my comfortable, fast, reliable, and able car back), and went into the garage. I sighed with relief, and ran to my car, and gave it a great big hug! I love my car, and really missed him. The gearbox may be so far apart that you have to go into different counties to go from 1st to 2nd gear (5th gear is in Norfolk), and you may need arms of steel to steer the car. But when you look behind to reverse, you're in no danger of hitting you nose on the rear windscreen, there's actually a small country behind my seat! It is my car, and I love it. As my friend Lee said to me: "It's all about the Escort!" I love it!

Give your Escort a hug on this Sunday 25th September - International (Andy bourght an) Escort Day!

On a special note, I have to celebrate a whole year of Escort. It was on year ago today (Sunday 24th September 2006) that I bourght my car. It was a sunny Saturday last year, that my car rolled smoothly out of the show room in Bognor. It was a pain to turn the wheel, but I've loved him ever since. Long live the Escort! Happy International Escort Day everybody (as today shall be known as from this day forward)!

A NOTE TO REGULAR READERS: If you actually enjoy reading this sort of dribble, I've noticed two kinds of readers. There are those of you that read this in a weekly slot (mainly to pass the time at work [Paul Tyler]), and those the check as often as possible to see if I've posted again. I try and update this blog weekly, on Sunday evenings. So if you need to read my posts as soon as they come out, try 12pm Sunday night... If I add extra posts, I'll tell you. Cheers.

Finally, a quick message of best wishes to Richard Hammond and his family. I'm sure you're all aware of the horrible 300mph accident that he was iinvolved in on Wednesday, and I wish him all the best in his remarkable recovery. Adventurous presenters like Hammond are to be celebrated, and we need him back!

If you drive a Ka, love it, and I have grossly offended you, why not leave a message telling me to shut up, and how rubbish Ford Escorts are.

If you would like to drive my car (keep on dreaming) why not leave a comment, and I'll try and get you the best treatment available...

Don't forget - catcouk.bebo.com. Updated monthly.

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Don't forget this week's thrilling post below....

Why does my DVD player hate Star Trek?

Firstly, I must apologise. This weeks blog rates no Escorts out of five, it's the Sunday Sport of posts, it is as lame as the Grand National winner 1937 (although I'd expect that horse is actually dead). To sum up, this week's blog is crap. Sorry, but this week has been a bit of a slow news week. Let's hope for better material next week.

As I've already explained, just about bugger all intersting has happenned this week. Ha ha ha - I went to work, what a blast! Because our lucky lecturers went away with the Foundation Degree students on a residential, we've had zip, zero, nuddah lectures (well after Tuesday's environmental rubbish). So as I'm sure you can imagine, I'm clutching at straws with this week's post.

For my first straw clutching attempt, I'll explain this week's title. I bought my DVD player in January 2004, and it works absolutly fine. But as with all things, there came a time when I had to buy my first box set. Being a bit of a trekkie (well more than a bit, but I don't have any pointed ears), I decided my first box set would have to be the original Star Trek series. Christmas 2004, and then the January sales 2005, I managed to get the box set, and The Proffesionals!

Right from the word go, my DVD has always had a problem with Star Trek DVDs. Whenever I put "The Proffesionals" in, or "Starsky & Hutch" or anything that's not Star Trek, the player's fine. But, if I try to put a Star Trek DVD in, my DVD player tries to cut my hand off! The tray will open, I'll go to put the DVD in, and the tray will close. It's not like it opens and closes straight away everytime, sometimes I try and catch it out (hover over the open DVD tray for a while). Just when I think it's safe, I try to put the DVD in, and WHIRRR - the tray slides in again!

Told you I was clutching at straws!

Second load of straws I'm clutching at this week is a psychic pregnancy test. No, I'm not pregnant (saucy git), and niether have I got a friend pregnant (even saucier git). Whilst at work, we ran out of customers, and I was banished to... [shudder] SHELF STACKING!!!!!!!

As horrendous as this all sounds, I didn't have to actually stack the shelves, I just had to do what's known as 'facing-up' (bring all the products to the front, facing the same way). I was sent to the Health & Beauty department (was my supervisor trying to tell me something?), and had to 'face-up' items from toothpaste, to medicines, and from condoms to pregnancy tests. Whilst facing up, I found this one test that claimed it could tell if you were pregnant 4 days early!

No I'm not a women, and I'm sure that has a very serious, completely understandable meaning, but to my mind, that implies it can tell you are pregnant 4 days before conception? How does it know this? You're going to get lucky in 4 nights time, and you'll have forgotten protection! If you know how it works, please tell me.

Lastly, I must inform you that Robbie Williams and Angels is spreading! I regret to tell you that I was joined on stage recently at an NTC disco (who are the NTC? Click Here!). Scott, Graham, and Ian (Abdulha to his friends) all participated in forcing my on stage for the grand finale to Saturday night's Disco. What a mistake that was. Although I'm sure we were all in perfect tune, we weren't exactly in tune with each other... Well it was a good floor clearer anyway!

Thanks for putting up with this rubbish, let's hope for something better next week! Even though it was all rubbish, and went no where, this week's post was still mind-numbingly long. As long as it was boring! Excellent...

If you think this was up to my usual 'standard', and I'm usually rubbish, why not leave a comment telling me to stop boring you to death.
If you appreciated this little view of my world, why not leave a comment, and tell me that you;d pay money to read this (please leave your credit card details).
If you are a women, and understand what that pregnancy test meant, why not leave a comment, saying what a stupid bloke I am, and give all us ignorant guys a full explanation. No really.

Lastly, you can check my Bebo out now. Thanks. catcouk.bebo.com

Hot Shots: Part Deux!

...Last time on CATCOUK...

Read the last article, it's only just down the page one item! BEWARE: This is the second part of a two part post. If you don't read the first part, you might not understand the first part.

So, picking up, where I left off, I am standing in the middle of the student bar, wearing nothing but a smile. Of course the students are far more interested in the donkey, and the chocolate fountain (which by this point was over flowing). I had my glass of dish water, and was being challenged to a down in one. See, I told you to read the first half first.

For those of you that actually have read part one, you'll know that all of the above is a load of old nonsense. I have just sung Angels at the Karioke, and (according to my friends [probably drunk]) I may have even sung it well. I would like to have lived up the hipe a bit more, but I had to dash out the bar to move the car. I hadn't yet paid the car parking permit price (an unbelievable £20 increase on last year [£30]), so I parked my car outside the library in the 30min short stay park. Every 30 minutes I dashed outside to move the car around the car park, and back to a different bay. Although it's no return within 3 hours, I parked in a different bay each time, so I guessed there was safe...

5 of my Uni friends decide to go on to Thursdays (Chichester's only 'Night Club' - if it can be accused of that). There were also a load of Holly's friends (whose 21st birthday we were celebrating) and housemates. Unfortunatly, I had just bourght a pint of Cola (THINK don't drink and drive...), and being as strapped for cash as I was (£7 to live off for the week), I wasn't going to waste it. Apologies to the Zee Bar for nicking a pint glass.

When I rolled up at Thursdays (having transported my pint glass thge whole way), the glass was straight in my hand, and I was drinking out of it, whilst locking the car. In the bad light, I must have looked like a right alcoholic. Well, what would you think? Two blokes roll up to a night club in an old (classic) car, and the driver has a pint glass in his hand, already half empty...

It then strikes me (and my friend Ade), that I can't take the glass inside! So I quickly down my cola, and hand the glass to one of the bouncers. "Cheers mate..." Well, I didn't want broken glass on the floor. Once again, apologies to the Zee Bar - I guess you won't be getting that glass back...

Now, please bear in mind that I have very little money. The fee to get into the club is £3 until 11.15, and then £3.50 after 11.15pm. Imagine my relief when I got to the front desk at 11.13! May I just take a moment to explain a few things. I don't drink, and I really can't dance (no - really). In my observation, all you can do in a Night Club is drink and dance. So one has to ask - WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN A NIGHT CLUB!!! To be honest, I hate the things. All I like to do of an evening, is sit down, drink some cold coke, and chat. You simply can't talk over the boomin sound systems in clubs.

So may I just say that Thursdays has to be the best Night Club ever in the history of Andy - Ever! They have the normal dance floor (for normal students), a shots bar (again for alcholic [so normal] students), AND a massive garden with seats. As if that wasn't good enough (I love sitting outside), they also have a BBQ!!!! Almost my dream place (the fact that I had people smoking over me all evening was the only turn off).

Anyways, to try and answer some of the questions that I left last time:

Will Holly have a good 21st?
If drunkeness is any indicator of having a good time, the Holly must have had the time of her life! She could barely stand up straight! I'm sure you'd disagree Hols, but I was there (and I had a clear head). Also, when we got back to her house, we had to go and have a bounce on her trampolibe (by which point, she was pronouncing tram-ampoline...). She was still very good (far better than me), and she was doing some impressive things, but as it was so wet, she decked out of the tram-ampoline more than once. She asked in the morning if she'd been on it, and I told her. She said that probably explained those weird bruises...

Will Batman (my friend whose real name is Simon) poo his pants?
That afternoon, Batman had had a particularly dodgy chicken kebab. Understandably he got the Delhi Belly! He decided to go home about 1am, and managed to avoid pooing his pants. (Well that's what he tells us any way)

Will anyone get home before 6am?
Yes, to the best of my knowledge, we all were. (Holly tells me she eventually put her head down at 0545!) Good news, seeing as we all (Advebture Ed) had a 9 am lecture - which we all made it too.

Will I get lucky with some lovely young girl, and cure my problem?
I'm not one to kiss and tell, but let's just say that my disco tune is stll Madonna - "Like a Virgin.." To be honest, even if I had met someone, I just wanted to sleep by the time I got to Holly's couch. I was cream-crackered!

Will I get offered a contract with EMI to duet with Robbie Williams (following my Karioke success)?
Well what do you think? Would I still be wasting everyone's time with this blog if I had that sort of money? Do you think if that was the case, I'd have any women troubles?

That covers all of that. Overall, it was a great evening. I got to see Holly trying to chat up some bloke (although I don't know if she remembers it). I tell you - if you want some good entertainment, get Holly drunk, and then watch her chat up a bloke! What was the first quetion she asked? What car do you drive...

I also couldn't finish this blog, with saying a big thank you to Holly (have I mentioned your name enough?). Although it wasn't until 3.30am that my head eventually hit her couch, she was a very good host. I also extend the thanks to her house mates, for putting up with me. Holly - you were as funny as drunk (when we got home she couldn't stop making sure I was alright - not wanting to be a bad host). She kept offering me a drink, or some food. Anything I needed. To be honest, all I wanted was sleep. I know I've taken the mick, but the hospitality was appreciated. Lots of love.

And to finish the blog, I want to tell you of the 'morning after' events. I was up at 8am, and the house was dead. I carefully crept down the hall, and into the bathroom. I switched on the light, carefully and quietly, and started to wash. Then an almightly loud hum came from the extractor fan (I almost had a heart attack). It wasn't THAT loud, it just seemed loud. Ot then got to 0835, and Holly still wasn't up, so I woke her up. She was still very drunk, but the Diet Coke kept her going. We drove to Uni, and were just in time for lectures!!! Success.

If you think I'm a boring old git, and need to get a life (starting with no longer writing this blog), why not leave a comment telling me to get drunk!
If you are an eligabe attractive young lady (not too young obviously), and think you can help me out, leave me a message entitled - GET YOUR COAT, YOU'VE PULLED!
If you think I'm okay, and understand that I have no life, and that's why I write my blog, why not leave a comment telling me not to drink anything, and write this blog, wired up to a drip in the Hospital!

EXTRA: It started with Angles...

Just because this is an "Extra", son't let that fool you into thinking this is any less meaty that usual. In fact, this is more than qualified to be a regular post.

Well, I was going to post about what a lovely (if not quiet, short and dull) time I had in the Peak District with my University. But something came up this week that I have to share. It's probably going to leave me short for this week's Blog, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it...

This Tuesday was the lovely Holly's 21st birthday (again). Now when I say in brackets again, I do mean again. Because of different friends, and family, and university, she has managed to get herself 4 birthday celebrations! This one (actually being held on her birthday!) started off at the Student Bar (the Zee Bar) on Chichester Campus. I had a half-pint of Coke (a - I don't drink, and b - I was the driver), and realised that it was a Karioke night. I've never been to Karioke proper before. Some of the acts were really good (rating 4 Escorts out of 5 and above!), whilst others were... erm... how can I put this delicatly? Special (only scoring really low on the PUSHBIKE scale - not even good enough for an Escort). To be frank, some of the "singers" needed to be taken out and shot!

Anyways, when we were on our last residential, my group and heard some of my singing (almost on the cat-killing scale), and we had even sang some queen together one night! They egged me on, and so I risked facing an angry drunken bar mob, and went up to the stage. I had decided I had to sing Robbie Williams, as he and I have very similar vocal ranges. Neither of us can really sing. Don't get me wrong, I love his music, but he admits he's pretty limited.

I was going to sing "Let Me Entertain You", as I had it in my head, and it had been a popular choice of mine for shower rehearsals! Unfortunatly this was a particularly cra- rubbish disco, and all he had by Mr. Williams, was "Angels". The stakes were raised higher - sing this like a dieing cat, and the angry drunken mob would hang me from the rafters...

But it was Holly's birthday, and I decided I would do it for her (I couldn't afford a card or a present... scumbag university student). The lady with the Karioke did warm me not to cock the tune up, because SHE wouldn't let me murder it (like so many karioke tunes before it). I picked up the mike, and started saying why I was on stage "Good evening ladies and gents, this is..." there were no sound. The blooming mike was off.

Now nervous as, I turned the mike on, and restarted. "Good evening ladies and gents. This is going out to a friend of mine, who's birthday it is tonight. HAPPY 21st HOLLY!" Then the music started....

As some of you will know, I work with a disco company, and we nearly always finish on Angels. I have only ever sung this to take the p*ss, and ruin it. I couldn't do it now....

I started singing to early (on later inspection, the karioke music had too longer intro), so this shafted me. Not going well. But I recovered, got back in time with the music. My friends from my Uni course started to gather around the stage, and gawp. Is Andy actually doing that? I could see it in their faces.

The tunes progressing nicely, I'm on top of things, and I don't think I'm singing too badly. The people that can hear are smiling, and seem to be enjoying. I might just pull this off...

"I'm loving Angels instead....
[her comes the chorus]
And through it -" And it was here, just before the last word of this line, why I remembered I never really sang this song. It was one of those split second thoughts, but it meant alot.
"OH BUGGER, THIS SONG GETS HIGH HERE ARGHHHHHHH!!!!!"

"And through it - ALLLLLL
She offers me protection..."

I got there! Hit the note, no squeakyness, and even in tune. The crowd cheer - job's a gooden. I get through the next verse fine, and into the second chorus. And again, I realised another reason why this is a bad Karioke tune. After the second chorus, there is a long guitar instrumental. Most of the time during Karioke, you look at a TV screen, and sing the words, but during instrumentals, there aren't any words. Worst of all, I DON'T DANCE. What do I do for a 45 second musical?

At discos, Stuart (the boss) would do a VO (voice-over), and say thank you for coming, goodbye. What could I do? Well, I did what any good soldier would (although actually, I'm a sailor...)

AIR GUITAR! To much laughter and applause. 4 times I got away with it. The last time, I even switched hands! Although to be honest, on that side, my air guitar looks more like some bizarre sexual act...

Anyways, I get to the end, everyone cheers, I get a few hugs, and nice words. Thanks to Holly, Hannah, Kat, Batman, Phil, Charlie, Ade, Thom, and Owain for all supporting me down the front (apologoies to anyone I forgot).

You'll also be pleased to hear that there is a video of my Karioke! As soon as I get it off Phil, you'll get to see it! Check the next Blog to see how...

This has been a long post, and this was just the start! This therefore is going to be my first two-part episode. I guess I'm not stuffed for this weeks post after all...

Will Holly have a good 21st (again)?
Will Batman poo his pants?
Will anyone get home before 6am?
Will I get lucky with some lovely young girl, and cure my problem?
Will I get offered a contract with EMI, to duet with Robbie Williams?
Find out on Monday, ONLY at CATCOUK.BLOGSPOT.COM... (say it with a deep voice, it's more theatrical)

...to be continued...

Why a sailing BOOM should be called a sailing THUD!

Good day all! Sorry there was no Blog last week, but as you are about to read, I wasn't all too well, and I was very busy. Instead, those of you needing your regular dose of Andy, I will post again, later in the week. Jobs 'a gooden'!

On to this weeks post: On the bank holiday weekend, I organised and ran a sailing weekend at the NTC's sailing centre in Portsmouth. The weekend was superly successful, and everything happenned as I had asked/ planned! Well... nearly everything.

I managed to get a Peco (small sailing dinghy) for one of the sessions. The weather wasn't brilliant, in fact it was windier than my Dad after dinner (only without the bad smell). Because of this, the staff decided to tow us around to the lake, where it was sheltered. Unfortunalty, the shelter made the wind gusty, so I couldn't really trust the wind or the boat.

I was mucking about in the gusty areas, when I drop the helm (steering thing). The main sheet (ropey thing) was in a bit of a mess, so I decided to sort that out first. I was just finishing the rope, when I feel the rope on the back of my neck. In sailing, this is known as a 'jibe'. You never do this with beginners, as the boom (the thing along the bottom of the sail) moves from 90 degrees on one side of the boat, to 90 degrees on the other side of the boat - in LESS than a second!

It doesn't take a genius to work out that that is fast! I'd been doing this all day, but I had expected the jibes. This time, I only had enough time to think "Oh dear this is going to hurt!" before the jibe happened. One of the first things a beginner sailor will tell you, is that a boom is called a boom because it makes a "BOOM!" sound when it hits your head. Using that idea, I propose that the boom be renamed to a thud.

The boom struck my head with a very heavy thud, and took me clean out the boat. The next thing I remember after being hit, was looking up through the water thinking "What's going on here? Oh yeah I remember!" I surfaced just in time to see the boat fall on top of me. Knowing that I could pass out at any moment (it was a large hit), I got the boat upright straight away. If I'd gone unconscious, I could have drowned, I only wore a Buoyancy Aid.

Anyways, I acted so quickly, and got back on the boat, that the safety boat hadn't realised I'd gone over! With a bump the size of a small planet on my head (no joke, it was huge!), I had to re-rig my boat, and sail after a safety boat!

Of course, this isn't the end of the story! To try and make up for no Blog last week, we'll make up for it, by telling you the story of the Hospital. I arrived at the hospital, and went to reception. You have to consider that I have a second head growing (about the size of a large egg). The man on reception looked at me (and probably the lump) and asked "How can I help you?" I have a huge lump on my head, and I'm standing in the middle of A&E. It took forever to reply, as I just couldn't believe the utter stupidity of the question. I nearly said "Hi there. I'd like a quater-pounder with cheese, large fries" but decided to carry on instead.

After a series of questions about who I am, where I live, who my Doctor is, and all the rest of it, the guy on reception started recording how the accident happened. Please, still bear in mind that I have a large bump on my forehead, and the guy finishes his questions with "So you've had a sailing accident? And the injury was to your head?" I just stare back at the bloke, gobsmacked. All I could do was shake my head, and reply "Yes. Yes it was."

I see the nurse, and the doctor and they decided the injury was pretty minor, and no serious damage done. I explained to the doctor that I was running a youth weekend, and I ask if he'd got any bandages kicking around that he can wrap around my head, so that we can have a joke with the kids. He looked back at me, absolutly deadpan, and replied "That would be a waste of money wouldn't it." From this, we can assume the NHS really does have money problems - they can't afford a 60p bandage!

Well that's this post done. Don't forget to check later in the week, for the bonus extra!

If you enjoyed having a week off my Blog, really wish that I'd stop all together, and not bother with an extra post this week, why not leave a comment, and tell me to shut my mouth!

If you enjoyed this post, can't wait for the bonus post, and wish I'd post every hour or every day, why not leave a comment saying how much you enjoy living in the assylum! Cheers!

I believe in miracles - you SAINSBURYS thing?

Hi all. This weeks Blog was published before I got a chance to add the all important photo. So here it is. Thanks to Scott for the photo. I'm the one in the middle (with the Sainsbury's uniform).

Would you be scared if this bloke was chasing you down the street (the answer is yes, if there was no apparent reason!)

Well, that's what I look like wearing the Sainsbury's Trolley Wally uniform. The other two idiots are my friends Rob (left) who has recently left us for the delights of North London, and Scott (right) who too the photo.

DON'T FORGET THIS WEEK'S BLOG BELOW! THIS WAS JUST ME ADDING THE PHOTO - BECAUSE I'M A SILLY OLD HECTOR, AND FORGOT TO DO IT THE FIRST TIME!

They think it's all over... ?

As we see the return of football this weekend, I want to reassure you all that you can consider CATCOUK your quiet place, where I WILL MENTION NO FOOTBALL! My personal opinion is that all proffesional footballers are a bunch of pansies, and get paid far too much money. So rest assured, you'll hear no more (unless I have to take the mick about something!)

But to link nicely to this week's sporting title, this week's blog is about my recent sporting success. Now I know this will come as a shock, and something of a disappointment to my female readers, but I am no sporting god! In fact, I'm not eveb remotely good at sport. I'm just about fit enough to play, and I enjoy playing sports, I'm just no good. In fact, I know that there are slightly below average monkeys that can do sports better than I can!

Anyways, because of this clinical incompetance for sport that I suffer from, it is well documented that my disabled 17 year old brother (the alcoholic mentioned the other week) can beat me at just about anything (except outdoor activities, and for some bizarre reason - Badminton). So apart from the activities that I am fairly good at, my arthritic younger (no joke) can beat me. When he invited me to join him and Dad for some Tennis today, I knew that it was going to be a tall order.

I havn't playe tennis in about two years, and back then, I was only just holding out against Ian (my brother). This session was going to end in tears. Sure enough, we warm up and I can't serve, return the ball over the net (and when I do it goes miles off the court), and Ian is hitting the ball for all his worth. Dad is being his usual 50 year old git, and is playing it slow.

Eventually the torture of warming up is replaced by the hellish suggestion that we play some singles games!!! Out of the frying pan and into the fire! Dad (being 50) gracefully lets me an Ian play the first match (while Dad phones an ambulance for himself to recover). Four games to a match, winner stays on. In the result of a draw, the last person serving stays on.

Sure enough, first game shoots through, and it's 40-love to Ian. I havn't scored a single point. But then I realise, that my strength has always been optimism, and tactics. I manage to get the score back to 40 - 30 before Ian won. Now I know it was a loss, but it proved there was hope. I had observed Ian's play, and found some critcal flaws that I could exploit.

Ian had tried to serve like he was at Wimbledon - hard, low and fast. With very little luck. I think in the whole session he got four first serves over. The key was using his over-confident shots. I played really slow serves (almost so slow the ball was in reverse), but all my first serves were going in (bar a few). Ian then tried to hit the ball back hard and fast. Sure enough it ended up in the net. It went on like this, and I won the next three games to take the match.

Ian has much more skill than me, but in the end, he just doesn't have the wit to out-wit me! He is of course a half-wit. And this prooves that Brains beat braun any day of the week! Ladies - I may be over weight and rubbish at sport, but I can do maths! (what a chat up line!)

Finally, linking back to "They think it's all over...", I was involved with someone who thought it was all over this week. I was at brilliantly wonderful Sainsburys (that is most definatly sarcastic) this week (doing trollies again) when a manager rushes out the store, and asks if I can follow him... QUICK! It turns out he's chasing a shoplifter. At that time he was just walking slowly (clearly thinking his heist was "all over" - get the link). The manager asked him to stop, and he bolted!

The manager promptly followed. Well, it being that I have delusions of being a 1970's cop, I ran as well (it also has something to do with the fact the most excitment I get at work normally is seeing what's on Buy One Get One Free that week!). Anyways, we're running after the criminal, and I'm just overtaking the manager on the run when this hardened criminal turns around to see us barreling towards him. Naturally when he saw me: the 70s cop, he put his hands up, and came quietly.

Having built that great image, I would have liked to say at this point...
"Wearing a leather jacket I threw a big 6ft bloke who'd just stolen a load of money, into the back of a police car, and told the sergeant to book him!"

But this is the real world, so...
"Wearing a bright orange fluorescent Sainsbury's jacket, with a blue shirt, and a tie with red chilles on it, I gently escorted the 12 year old boy who had stolen a packet of sweets to the office."

What a let down.

Well, this weeks Blog has all been about disappointment.

Are you a bloke that now thinks I'm a complete idiot for hating football? Are you a women that used to fancy me, before you found out I can't play sports and now hate me? Are you the boy that I got arrested for nicking 32p worth of sweets, and hate me? Why not leave me a comment telling me how much you hate me?

Perhaps you're a women that supports my views on football, and now like me more than ever. Maybe you're a bloke that used to fancy me, but still thinks I'm okay as how sports aren't that important to you, so you still want to be a gay lover. Maybe you the boy that I got arrested for nicking 32p worth of sweets, and have now seen the error of your ways, and think that I am some sort of youth working messiah, and you'd like to start you're own cult around me. Why not leave a message saying how great you think I am? (except the gays - sorry, I may be desperate, but I don't swing that way!)

CAT-astrophe (and another Film review)

It's alright, there's no problems. Calm down! Catastrophe was the only word that I could think of that had CAT in it.

As you may have sussed by now, this week's Blog is all about a cat! Now although I'd love to rant on about my cat Monty (aka The Montinator, Monster, Keg on Legs) weighing in at 17 pounds (heavy cat), I wish to regail the story of my experience with the Lucky Chinese Cat!

Monty, The Montinator, Monster, the Monta-cat, the Monte-cat, Proffessoray, Keg-on-Legs, You-fat-git, or you-little-sod-if-I-catch-you-doing-that-again.... My cat Monty, the cat with a thousand names (and no he's not a spy)

Once upon a time, in a land far far away... YEAH RIGHT!

Last year I was attending an Officer's course with the NTC (TS Intrepid), and I was just about to keel over and die of bordom when someone said it was LUNCH!! We made our way down the highstreet in Wick, Littlehampton to the Fish and Chip shop (The Wick Fryer). Unknown to me, it was run by a couple of Chinese people. When I walked in there, they had a Lucky Cat on the shelf behind (the one with the moving paw). I love cats, but I had never seen one of these in my life.

I was AMAZED. I absolutly feel about the place laughing, it was so great. I'm sure I embarresed my fellow ofiicer's and friends, and god only knows what the shop people thought! Anyways, ever since, I have always been amazed by this cat. I just love it (sad or what). It has become something of a fixation - when I was forced into a Night Club, I used the same hand motion as a special dance floor move - oh yes I'm cool! (Does sarcasm work on a Blog? Leave a comment and let me know)

My pussy banging (or that's what it looks like he's doing - on a door)

So, Mum and Dad went away for an night to visit Canterbury, Margate and Hastings. While Mumwas away she actually found one of these cats, and she just had to buy it for me! I'm sure you can imagine my response - it currently sits on a shelf above my TV, and I still chuckle everytime I look up and see him. He has to go off at night however, as he squeeks, and I can't sleep!

Thought my blog was short this week? WRONG! Of course I have something else to say...

As has become a bit of a fad at the moment, Scott, Rob and I (some friends) went to the Cinema (in the last couple of weeks we've seen Superman, Miami Vice, and last night - Pirates of the Carribean). Anyway, on this trip, we invented a new game to play in the car! The cinema we use in Brighton Marina has an upside down Multi-storey car park (you enter it from the top). The cinema (and just about everything else) is at the bottom. The aim therefore has to be to get as low to the bottom as possible. How low can you go? CAR PARK LIMBO!

That's right, play car park limbo! How low down in the car park can you get, before you run out of spaces. For every level you go down, you get a point! If you go too low, and there are no more spaces left, you loose. I saw a space on the 4th floor, and decided to keep going. We got all the way down (1st), and there were no spaces (except for Disabled Parking - no cheating allowed!). We dashed back to 4th (using my Starsky & Hutch driving skills) to find the space full. Damn. YOU LOOSE!

But it's alright, we could play again, as the car park has two sides! 5th, 4th, 3rd, 2nd - space! There is no point going to 1st, as it's ALL disabled parking!

But here at CATCOUK, I feel it's my civic duty to provide you with film reviews: Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest. Good film, though went on a bit (2hr 30m). Really enjoyed the first one, but this one took a bit too much time to get started. (Rob had told us there was an extra special scene at the end of the credits about the third film - so we waited through all 10 minutes of credits. There was - 8 seconds. Rob rode home on the roof rack. Stay around to see, it does exist, it just has absolutly nothing to do with the third movie).

Remember that Superman Returns got a rating of 3 Escorts out of 5. What will Pirates of the Carribean score?

3 Escorts out of 5. Great film, really enjoyed it, but far far far too loooooooooooooooong!

PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST HAS BEEN OUT IN ALL GOOD CINEMA'S FOR AGES, SO IT'S PROBABLY IN ALL THE CRAP ONE'S NOW ASWELL!

Lastly, you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. A friend of mine: (mentioned a few weeks ago, the stunningly gorgeous) Holly likes this little ol' blog of mine, and says that she is adding a link onto her website. So in return, I'll fully recommend visiting the Chichester Cheetas website (Cheerleaders of our University: University of Chichester) at http://www.chicheetas.piczo.com/. Cheers Holz.

If you like my Blog, why not add a link to your website, and share how good it is with all your friends? If you have, leave me a comment.

If you hate my Blog, why not add a link to your website, and share how crap it is with all your friends? If you hate my guts - leave a comment (and I'll get back to you).

National Brewer's Droop Day...

Hello, and welcome to another stunningly boring post from yours truly. This week's post has everything from car 'modding', to alcohol abuse! There's no stopping me in my fast paced life style!

I start this week with a polite notice to boy racers in the Littlehampton/ Worthing area. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. I know that my car is a 20 year old Escort Estate, and doesn't look as cool as your 1.1 Peugeot 106's with shoddy plastic air vents, but my car can whip your ass in a drag any day! This week, some idiot saw my car as an easy target for his 1.1 small car, with his main beam and fog lights on full (bearing in mind I was on my way home from work just after 10pm).

His lights dazzled my eyes, and sure enough off the roundabout onto the dual carriageway he's puts his foot down to overtake me. Mug, I shift down a gear, and accelerate. After the mile long section of dual carriageway, we hit a single carriageway (50mph speed limit), and the boy racer is still behind me. In order to teach him some manners. he was stuck behind me doing 30. Just because my car is old doesn't mean it does 30 all the time - only when I have to annoy annother road user... If you see my car - it is not an easy target - DON'T BOTHER!

More strange things my car has carried - this week: 3 6ft fence panles. Ernie the Escort - the car that can (and probably has)

Anyways, as many of you will be aware, I love my 1986 Ford Escort Estate (1.4 GL in Champagne Gold). When I drive around in it, I feel like some sort of 70's cop/ PI. Many people ask why I don't 'mod' my car - like add alloy wheels and the like. Most people don't appreciate that my car is just about as near to original condition as you can get (even down to the original dealer's number plates and tax disc holder). So I preserve my car with the respect it deserves. Naturally I have great thoughts about any additions to my car. In January I fitted an electric arial. In the 70's/ 80's this was a common mod for cars like mine, so I felt that it fits in quite well with my car.

The other day, my dad was turfing out some stuff, when he came across a late 70's early 80's car alarm. Mum had bought this for dad some Christmas a long time ago (for his first car - Citroen 2CV). Dad said I could have it, and I opened the box to find a mint condition - never even opened alarm! The instructions on the box said easy-to-fit, so I started with the project.

The MS700 - easy to fit (HA HA)

Easy to fit my arse! 6 hours later I had eventually got it all wired up. Major problems came with trying to set the alarm off at the right time. You'll be pleased to hear that it's now all in fully working condition, and has been tested (some times by accident). All 115 decibells of the Piezo alarm deafinatly work (ha ha - get it). There is one problem however...

The Moss Security MS700 fitted "proffesionally" in my car

The alarm also has a device to detect the whole car's movement. Everytime I drive over a bump in the road, the alarm "tweets" like a bird. The alarm is clearly trying to go off, but is being stopped by the ignition (all be it late). If anyone asks, I'll just say I couldn't afford a hamster for the wheel, and bought a budgy for my engine instead! Other than that, it's the perfect alarm for my car - it works, and it's the right age!

Finally, I get to the title of my post. Last week, my 17 year old brother Ian (Charles Lancely Clarke - just so there's no mistaking him) got absolutly lashed (10 pints down the pub in 6 hours). Now most students will at this point be shouting "LIGHT WEIGHT", but at 9.30pm on Thursday my brother rolled into the house, collapsed into bed saying "I love you Mummy!" Anyways, after puking his guts out several times, he eventually fell asleep in his room with his head actuall IN a bucket. I have attached a picture just to embarress him some more.

DRINKING - It's dead sexy... My 17yr old brother, well on his way to Uni...

The next day, me and Mum took the piss, and really made sure that his hangover went down like the Titanic. We even offered him last night's Lasagne for breakfast (nearly made him hurl!). I therefore dedicate this blog to National Brewer's Droop Day - men that drink to much have... problems.

Super Finally Lastly, I have to mention that I sold my motorbike this week. In memory, I have posted a picture. With my bike's sale, ends an era! Gone now are my Steve McQueen days....

2004 (Jan) - 2006 (Aug)

"Harry" Hongdou HD125C - the quick, [almost] reliable Chinese quivalent of a Honda. Other's laughed, but my bike was brilliant.

Ashley (who bought my bike) - take care of him, or I'll have to take a contract out on you!

That really is it now. Thanks for reading. (Are these posts getting longer week by week? Want to complain? - leave a comment)

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....