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The Witches of Eastwick – The Old Rep Theatre, Birmingham – 18 March 2016 Birmingham Ormiston Academy (BOA)

I have to admit, when buying tickets for this, I’d never heard of Birmingham Ormiston Academy (BOA) before and at £10 a seat, I wondered what level of performance I should expect. Despite the excellent value in price, though, I still guessed it would be good, but never expected how good.

Over the past few months I have seen The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe at the newer Birmingham Repertory Theatre, and Jesus Christ Superstar (starring Glenn Carter) at the Hippodrome. I can honestly say, this production of The Witches of Eastwick knocked both those offerings out the building in terms of enjoyment.

The Witches of Eastwick – My new favourite show, and all thanks to the wonderful production team, orchestra and more important, the talented Year 13 musical theatre students of BOA.

An academy in performing arts for ages 14 to 19, BOA have the cream of the region and it was obvious from the outset, you’ve got to be damn good to get into this school.

My interest in The Witches of Eastwick had been piqued while taking part myself in a concert featuring two of the numbers, and I wanted to see what the entire show had to offer.

The Witches of Eastwick – The Old Rep Theatre, Birmingham – 18 March 2016 Birmingham Ormiston Academy (BOA)

Loosely based on the novel of the same name by John Updike, but having more in common with the 1987 film, The Witches of Eastwick tells of three women searching for the man of their dreams. Pooling energy together, their dreams do come true, but they also get more than they bargained for.

The enigmatic Daryll Van Horne arrives and soon seduces all three, causing destruction, and eventual death along the way. The women realise what it is they have created and decide they have to put things right and send Daryll back from where he came.

Looking at the programme, the pen pictures tell me there were two casts. I learned that these were basically the A and B teams. I don’t know if there was any significance in these categories, or that it was simply a way of dividing to give the students an equal opportunity over the course of the run. As it was, I saw the B cast and if the A lot were meant to be the primary, then they must have been something extra special because the B team I witnessed were out of this world.

Once you got over the fact that, yes, the majority of parts are meant to be played by older people, you soon became lost in the show. In fact, I’d forgotten how old they really were halfway through the opening. Sitting in Row B, I think I spent the entire show leaning forward with chin in hand, mesmerised by what I saw on stage. Not an easy task to keep me from fidgeting throughout a performance.

I imagine it must be hard to pull off characterising much older parts, especially the males, but Jack Sanders did a fantastic job with his portrayal of Daryll. And then you had the witches, themselves. Wow! To get one good voice is great, but all three? Talulla Wheatley (Alex), Heather Foster (Jane) and Lydia Gardiner (Sukie) were all amazing. Incredible voices and fantastic harmonies with great acting to top it off. Then you also had the supporting principles and an ensemble which brought their numbers onto another scale, Dirty Laundry, in particular. And what an opening we had!

I have to say I already had a liking for I Wish I May but at the climax to Act One when Alex, Jane and Sukie send their spirits soaring skyward and fly, I wanted to get to my feet and give a standing ovation there and then. But I thought, behave, there’s still the second act to come yet.

As well as those already mentioned, I loved every number in the show, in particular, the three seduction numbers, each different in their own way. Now I’m not into narcotics, and the strongest thing I’ve ever smoked is a piece of salmon, but even I craved a cigarette after Waiting for the Music.

Since watching, I’ve had the Original London Cast CD on repeat in the car. This is all testament to the BOA cast and production team. A mention, of course, has to go to Director – Rian Holloway, Musical Director – Michelle King, Choreographer – Lee Crowley and Company Manager – Amy Rutter. I hope those credits are right, I got them from the back of the programme. Also, hats off to the rest of the band and crew who made this occasion for me – magic.

Cheers.

Nick

How long?

It’s been a year since I did a Roast. I know when reviving this column I said I would only do it occasionally, but a whole year …! Does this mean I don’t get out much any more?

Well, I do, I just have so many other things to occupy my time, namely trying to polish up my novel, Dead Girl Stalking so I can release on Amazon. But this doesn’t mean I no longer observe the bizarre around me. Take the incident after my writing breakfast in town the other day.

A bit of bother over a hover

Sunday Roast - Hoverboard 1

Have you seen these things? I hadn’t but they are apparently the latest craze to hit the streets. They’re nicknamed hover-boards, and when I say a craze, I don’t simply mean fad. Craze could be applied to the state of mind of the user, because you must be crazy to ride around on one.

Take the couple I came across after leaving my breakfast venue.

IMAG0266

Young man in baseball cap with cute young girl on his arm. Or was it the other way round? You see the man was on one of these hover-boards, being motorised around town. However, every time he wanted to turn, his girlfriend had to guide him in the right direction.

Mate, you looked ridiculous. It was as if she were taking her pet for a walk. His body never moved an inch, all the time thinking he was the man, and so cool. But if the girlfriend had let go of his hand, I suspect street cred would have dropped quicker than he did as he tumbled to the ground.

However, he didn’t as girlfriend guided her puppy around corners and finally helped him across the road, all the time doing the work while he didn’t flex a muscle.

But then we had the ultimate joke. Do you know where Hoverman went after I took the photograph? He turned right and entered a bloody gym!

Arrrggghhh! Perhaps if he’d walked for once in his life and didn’t use a hover-board, he wouldn’t need to go to a gym!

And then there’s the name – hover-boards. But they don’t even bleeding well hover!!! They have wheels and are quite clearly rolling along the ground.

Hover-boards, for Christ’s sake. Watch people move effortless. Or in the case of my home town, wait five seconds until you hit an uneven pavement and go arse over tit.

People who play with odd shaped balls

Sunday Roast - World Cup Rugby

So it’s the Rugby World Cup (sense the underwhelmed tone) and I have to say, I’m not interested.

It’s not the game I hate, I simply don’t understand it. What I also despise is the culture surrounding the sport. All this male bonding, arm in arm on pub tables singing, Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, coming for to carry them home because they’re too pissed to drive. You’ve also got to admire the irony of middle class white folk singing a black spiritual about gaining freedom from slavery.

Anyway, I kind of grasp the principle of getting the ball (Ball!! A ball is a spheroid) from one end of the field to the other. What I can’t fathom are details such as penalties given for no other reason than the referee thought it was time he awarded one. And the referees, themselves are an enigma. They watch all this carnage on the field and do nothing, then some person taps an opponent on the shoulder to say, ‘Pardon me, Claude,’ and he gives a bloody foul. Baffling. It’s stop/start all the way through the game with possession passing at random. And scrums … don’t get me started on scrums. What the bleeding frig are they all about? It’s like a bizarre game of twister.

Twister - Sunday Roast

But who do we have to blame for this stupid game? Yes, Mr William bloody Webb Ellis (Now you know why I’m good at quizzes … Huh!). You see, in 1823, during a game of football while at Rugby Posh School, Ellis allegedly picked up the ball and ran.

William Webb Ellis

Well, isn’t that just typical. When you were at school, wasn’t there always one tosspot who due to the fact they were shit at soccer, would start either bouncing the ball around like a basketball, or run with it in order to disguise their own inadequacies at the sport.

And so we have Rugby, a game created by somebody who thought themselves the bees knees at being class comic, but was, in fact, a total twat.

*** Appendices***

(i) Rugby ~ A game for people who aren’t skilful enough to play football.

(ii) Football ~ A game for those unable to understand the rules of cricket.

Nothing is free in this life

Do any older folk remember the free gifts you used to get in your cereal packets? Little plastic figures of Sooty and Sweep, or Doctor Who collectable cards such as these.

Dec 1 - Doctor Who Wheatbix

They made breakfasts worthwhile and got the kids eating because what they really wanted was for Mum and Dad to buy a new packet as soon as possible in order to get another gift.

Now, however, the term free with your cereal is used very creatively. Take Kellogs, for example.

I purchased a packet of cornflakes the other day and saw the words, Get you Free Bowl on the back of the box.

img018 (1280x1251) (640x626)

Great … Free gift. Just like old times. But hang on a minute. On closer inspection, I noticed the facts.

Step 1: Buy three promotional packs of cornflakes to collect the tokens.

Okay, so how is that free?

Step 2: Go online and enter the codes from inside the boxes.

Right …. that’s assuming you have internet, otherwise you’ll have to go to an internet café, pay a charge and buy a medium latte while you register for your free cereal bowl.

Step 3: Pay £2 postage.

Arrggghhhh! That’s not fucking free!!!

Then after choosing your bowl (Step 4) in this exceptionally quick and simple way of getting something for nothing, you come across the final hurdle.

Step 5: Wait for your bowl to be delivered, noting that the packet states this will take up to 90 days.

What!!! For heavens sake. You can buy bowls from a supermarket for a quid. Heck, I could even join a pottery class, learn how to mould clay and make a bloody cereal bowl in less than 90 days if I wanted.

Jeez!

Well, that warps up this roast

I shall bid you farewell and at this rate, see you this time next year.

Cheers.

Nick

 

Diagnosis

Nights like these,
they are the worst.
I know where I should be.
Free.
But I’m not.
I’m here.

Two weeks,
four days,
eighteen hours
and seventeen minutes,
give or take.
Who’s counting?

I wait for the release,
even though I know it’s not coming.
When will it end,
this illness?
Another day,
still no sign.

Understand the diagnosis
and accept there’s no cure.
Raise a glass
to heal the pain,
but it’s too strong.
So I sit alone
and listen to the walls talk.

Nightmare

© Antony N Britt 2010

Warning!

Being a writer has its drawbacks, and one of these are the questions which come from non-writers. Made in innocence, but annoying all the same in a way only writers will understand. Therefore, I shall explain a few so you’ll know in future why my face is turning purple.

1. Never under any circumstance try to tell a writer what would be a good idea for a plot.

I have this great idea for a story. I think you should write it.’

No, if it’s that good, maybe you should write it. After all, it’s your idea and who better to see it to fulfillment. That’s the polite way of replying. The other is to scream through clenched teeth that of course I’ll write your story, because after years of doing it well, I have no more bloody ideas of my own.

2. ‘Don’t despair, JK Rowling had numerous rejections before she was published.’

Fuck off! Never use the JK word. We all know how many rejections she had, so don’t mention it. There are writers with far more skill than the wizard’s creator but much about being successful is due to luck. Unless you’re a celebrity who can write a novel in wax crayon on the back of a napkin and still get it published, I’m afraid you’re in the slush pile, ever hoping an agent will allocate thirty seconds to read the first page of your book.

3. In response to telling somebody you’ve had a story published.

That’s good. Did you get paid?’

Okay, this is a common one. I’m always being asked it. As if making money from my writing makes it more valid. But really …. do I go around asking people what they earn for a living? No. Whatever you make from producing porn is your business. Hey, it’s a free country.

However, I will clear this up and the answer is, yes. Sometimes. Often it’s zero, but I have earned anything from £1.68 total royalties for a failed anthology to £250 with a short story. It depends who you are submitting to.

4. And another one I hate …

It’s said, everybody has a novel in them.’

No they bloody well don’t, otherwise everybody would write a novel. It’s probably the case that we all have an idea, but only when you’ve a final draft of 75,000 plus words, do you have that novel. Grrrrr.

5. The final main one is often directly after somebody you know has read your work for the first time. Now I like to receive praise, but not accompanied by a look of astonishment.

Hey, this is actually really good.’

Jesus, don’t sound so surprised. I’ve been doing this years and actually – yes, I am bloody good at it.

Those are the main ones, but of course there are others.

Q – Why don’t you write something more cheerful?

A – I mostly write dark fiction and had this comment on my novel. Hell, yes! Let’s make bullying, sexual assault, decapitation and psychotic episodes into a comedy.

Q – ‘Where do you get your ideas from?’

A – Erm … my mind.

Q – ‘Have you had anything published?’

A – Because apparently, you’re not a proper writer until this has happened. Yes, I have, about thirty short stories and poems, plus numerous articles. But even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t mean I’m not a writer.

Q – ‘Are your characters based on real people?’

A – Of course, because I have no imagination of my own. Okay … cue the arrival of the sarcasm police. NO! Theyre all my ideas. It’s what I do.

Comment – ‘I thought about writing a novel once.’

My reply – ‘Really, so did I.’

Comment – ‘To be honest, I don’t read.’

My reply – ‘You do know you can get lessons for that.’

And finally, the classic …

Comment – ‘I wish I had the time to write stories.’

My reply – … Well, there isn’t one. I’ve normally walked off by now, returning to my tedious day of doing nothing as I have all the time in the world to do it.

Okay, so I jest a little, but do think before you release these utterances. Writing is bloody hard, and to be good at it takes years. Unless, of course, you are Katie Price or some other Z-List celebrity, then you can simply pay some poor unheard of writer to do it for you.

April 15 - Writer

Cheers.

Nick

After a self imposed exile, I have at last got four new pieces out which are fortunately all contained in one volume.

Winter Festivals is anthology put together by the Walsall Writers’ Circle which I am privileged to be a member (Actually, that reminds me, I haven’t paid my subs but in my defence, I haven’t been available to attend a meeting this autumn to do so).

Winter Festivals covers a wide range of topics such as Christmas, Samhain, Yelda, New Year and Diwali in the form of short stories, articles and poems.

My own pieces are:

A short story about ritual sacrifice in ancient times, titled – Burnt Offerings.

Two poems – Christmas Lights in November, and Christmas Cheer.

And an atheists observation – Christmas, Bah Humbug!

Saturday – November 8 at 1100, there is an official launch at Southcart Books, Lower Hall Lane, Walsall where I shall be reading Burnt Offerings (at about 1110). This is a chance to come and hear a selection of the pieces, speak to the authors and of course, buy the book. If you can’t get down on the day, you can buy the book now, either in print, or download the ebook.

Winter Festivals

Purchase Winter Festivals Anthology.

Cheers.

Nick

What’s the buzz? Let me tell you what’s happening. Classic rock opera, Jesus Christ Superstar is in the region for three nights only. The groundbreaking musical by Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber which has delighted audiences for decades is on at the Prince of Wales Theatre, Cannock from the 20th to 22nd November 2014.

Originally produced as a concept album, the musical arrangements on Jesus Christ Superstar mix rock with the classical in multi-layered dynamics which are as fresh today as 40 years ago. The score features well known numbers including: Heaven on Their Minds, I Don’t Know How to Love Him, the semi-comical, Herod’s Song, and of course, Superstar.

Performed by a magnificent cast with excellent musical direction and choreography, Jesus Christ Superstar tells the story of the final days of Christ and his ultimate betrayal by Judas Iscariot. Beginning with uplifting exuberance, events quickly turn with the arrest and trial of Christ, leading to its poignant conclusion. The production contains a passionate portrayal of characters, triumph, struggle and subsequent tragedy.

This current show is the latest offering from the excellent Aldridge Musical Comedy Society (AMCS). For almost 50 years, AMCS have been delivering quality productions and Jesus Christ Superstar is no exception.

Staged from Thursday 20 to Saturday 22 November 2014, tickets can be obtained from the box office on 01543 578762 or by going to www.aldridgemcs.co.uk with options to book direct from AMCS or online.

Don’t miss out on a rare chance to share in this magnificent experience.

£12/adult, £10/Concessions and £6/Child.

jcs_flyer

Cheers.

Nick

I’m back.

Sept 2014 I'm Back © Antony N Britt

Yes, even though I said I was going to end the Sunday Roast when I last posted in December 2013, I couldn’t help myself. You see, there are so many stupid things to comment on, and they all seem to happen to me. Therefore, what I shall do is offer an occasional meal for you. And here it is.

So what’s been happening?

I’ve been busy: Writing another book, rehearsing for a musical, and working bloody hard.. I’ve also not long returned from a week’s holiday in my favourite exotic hotspot – Torbay.

Sept 24 - Torbay © Antony N Britt

Now don’t laugh, I’ve been going there on and off for 35 years and this was my 18th trip. I love the place. You’d think after all that time, though, I’d be bored, but you’re wrong. There’s always something new to see, like the most sinister looking Disney Tramp I have ever seen.

Sept 2014 - Tramp © Antony N Britt

Really, the thing looked rabid. And while I was in the same amusement arcade, I noticed this in one of the 2 pence tipping machines.

Sept 2014 - 2p Machine © Antony N Britt

Okay, how exactly are you supposed to win that mug? There is no way it would ever get down the drop slot and even if it did, it would smash.

But that wasn’t all I saw on holiday. I took the kids on their bi-annual visit to the model village and this was in one of the displays.

Sept 2014 Charlton Heston

I hate to ask, but had the late Charlton Heston begun a course of hormone treatment in preparation for a transgender operation? I’m not sure, but those breasts are bigger than my ex-wife’s.

And there were other curiosities …

Sept 2014 - Shopping Train © Antony N Britt

Huh! Why; something Thomas the Tank uses when he goes to Tesco?

And there was an even bigger, why in Dartmouth.

Sept 2014 - Dartmouth Fish © Antony N Britt

Something looks decidedly fishy about that décor.

And another new experience for me in Torbay, I went on the big wheel which you can see in this picture.

Sept 2014 - Torquay Wheel © Antony N Britt

However, it was only when I got to the top and it stopped for five minutes, I suddenly remembered my terrible fear of heights.

Sept 2014 - Top of Big Wheel Torquay © Antony N Britt

Jesuuuus! It was high. I never used to be that scared when I was young, but I was glad to get off this time.

However, the holiday wasn’t all that bad, and I did get to play an upmarket game of crazy golf on a top course.

Sept 2014 - Mini Golf © Antony N Britt

Yes, they don’t make them like they do in Torbay. Not quite sure what the pig is doing, but I made a bit of a ham of my shot as a result.

And I discovered a funny thing in my wallet.

No, it wasn’t a condom – smart arse. Before going on holiday, I emptied my wallet of all the useless things I wouldn’t want (like condoms). However, once in Torbay, I found I did need the store loyalty card, and I did need my petrol miles card, and I especially needed my backup credit card. I may have even needed my driving licence. What I didn’t need, though, was the business card given to me by the guy doing magic tricks at my nephew’s wedding.

So if I needed extra cash or to present my licence, I was buggered. But on the other hand, if I happened to require the services of a magician on holiday … hey, don’t say I’m never prepared on that score.

Sept 2014 - The Magician

And that’s the holiday, but what else have I been doing?

Well, I returned home to find my back patio covered in weeds. Yes, these would be the ones the man who re-laid my slabs two years ago said would never return.

Now I know what you are going to say, weeds are simply flowers growing in the wrong place.

Sept 2014 - Weeds © Antony N Britt

Bollocks! They are not! Weeds are evil and must be eradicated. However, I didn’t want to spend a fortune on weed killer so I was pleased to have a chance encounter with the man who does the gardens at work who told me the trade secret.

Formula: ½ Gallon of Cider Vinegar, 2 tablespoons of washing up liquid, and one cup of salt.

Cup! What size cup, for heaven’s sake: Egg cup, tea cup, FA Cup …? I don’t know, so I took the liberal view and used a mug. However, after spending loads on this pump spray container, I was kind of wishing I’d simply bought the weedkiller in the first place as it would have been far cheaper.

Okay, does a mixture of mainly vinegar really get rid of your weeds? The answer is, yes, but every time I step into my garden now, I get a craving to buy a bag of chips.

Change my name to Doctor Griffin.

Sept 2014 - Invisible Man

You see, that was the name of the Invisible Man in the novel by HG Wells.

So you’re going to ask why … Okay, I’ll tell.

By chance while online, I came across somebody I worked with over twenty years ago. I was surprised, but glad because I liked them and we always got on. I messaged her but imagine how put out I was when after two or three conversations she admitted she couldn’t remember me. I named numerous other staff members of the time, and so did she, but I was still forgotten. How is this possible? We sat opposite one another for two years! Have I been erased from history? Obviously so. But even more weird, at least once a month somebody will come up to me and swear they know me from somewhere, but the person they think I am is not me. Work that one out!

Great, somewhere I have a doppelgänger enjoying a living out of my past.

Too Mush-room on my plate.

The reason for that terrible phrase will become obvious when I explain what will now go down in history as The Great Aberystwyth Wetherspoon’s Mushroom Incident.

Yes, I was in Wetherspoon’s having one of their breakfasts. While ordering, I asked if instead of tomatoes and beans (yuk), could I have extra mushrooms. You see, the breakfast only came with one flat mushroom. And I do like my mushrooms.

I was told yes, and imagine my anticipation when my breakfast arrived and I was told, ‘Your extra mushrooms will come on a separate plate.’

Great … loads of mushrooms. What more could I ask?

Picture my face when this arrived.

Sept 2014 - Single Mushroom Wetherspoons © Antony N Britt

Look, one sodding mushroom in place of beans and tomato is not a fair swap – right?

Is the Sunday Roast back for good?

Probably once a month. And not even on a Sunday sometimes. So it’s just going to be The Roast. You see I’m terribly busy and how many tales of dodgy mushrooms can one person deliver?

Cheers.

Nick

Successful Parenting – Chapter One

The rule book.
Prototype.
Template for those yet to come.
Trial, maybe,
mostly error.
My first-born son.

Hoping to get it right
by the third or fourth
but for now,
you need my guidance,
and I need you as my guidebook.

We’ll help one another,
learning – getting it wrong,
trying all the same.
Writing the instructions for parenthood.

© Antony N Britt

img012

This was written a couple of years back and included in a book together with poems by other fathers. Unfortunately, out of print now which is a shame as the contents were far better than most of the arty farty crap you see put out in poetry circles.

Cheers.

Nick

Still harping on about Christmas.

I do hate it. Just for once it would be nice to do something I want instead of having to please other people.

December 23 - Bah Humbug!

Ahh, Christmas. A time when we should all worship our loving God. The same God who slaughters over 2 million of his subjects in the Bible. With friends like him …?

Take the nativity. Jesus is born and God sends a star to guide three wise men to bear gifts. Unfortunately, the star isn’t accurate and the men end up going to King Herod by mistake. So, having been sent the wrong way by God, the wise men blurt out the secret to Herod, thus instigating the massacre of the innocents. Hmm … Doesn’t sound very wise to me.

Dec 29 - Monty Python Wise Men

Sorry, couldn’t resist.

Because of God’s misdirection, dozens of newborn subjects, waiting to be brainwashed into loving God, are murdered.

There is a moral to this story. If ever in life you are lost and in need of direction, don’t trust God, buy a Sat-Nav instead.

Merry Christmas.

And talking of Christmas presents …

Earlier this year I did a piece about a two inch Hex/Allen key which came posted to me in a twelve inch box full of polystyrene shapes to protect the metal object. Well, one of David’s Christmas presents nearly matched that for over zealous packing.

Dec 29 - Big Box for Small Item © Antony N Britt

There it is, a massive three-foot box to send a twelve inch toy train. And no bubble wrap … tut tut. It’s a good job my recycle collection came two days after Christmas.

And while I was shopping for the kids toys …

I’m glad my daughter isn’t into those bland karaoke singers from One Dimension (I mean … One Direction). If she was, she may have wanted me to buy her the replica dolls instead of the Gothic Dead Dolls she normally likes (Yes, I have children with strange tastes). However, while I was shopping for Clawdeen Wolf, Venus Flytrap and Viperine Gorgon, I came across the previously mentioned boy-band dolls.

Dec 29 - One Direction Doll in Shop

Ahh … I’m kind of guessing Liam is the minger of the band who nobody wants. I almost feel sorry for him.

And the picture of the week.

When I used to post on Myspace, I only offered one photograph a week at first. It would always be something I came across while out and about. This one I’m sticking on now reminds me of the ludicrous things I used to see.

As I was climbing the staircase to make my way to a coffee shop, I noticed elsewhere in the building there was a CD and Record fair taking place. However, half way up the stairs, after kicking some puppet frog out of the way, I noticed a directional sign for the CD event.

Dec 29 - Upside Down Sign © Antony N Britt

I’m guessing they hadn’t a sign which catered for the stairs turning to the right so therefore had to put this one upside down.

Only in Walsall.

A short observation.

Also in my Myspace roasts, I would have a piece titled, Knob of the Week. Okay, this knob was a couple of weeks ago but I haven’t posted in that time so I really should give one final award and hand it to Lord Hanningfield.

Dec 29 - Lord Hanningfield

Hanningfield has been in the news over the revelation he claimed £300 allowance for spending 45 minutes in the House of Lords one day.

Yet another example of the over privileged having positions of power in this country. In an interview, the Tory Twit stated he didn’t know what the fuss was about. He called it, “A storm in a teacup.”

Spending under an hour to earn £300, I’m surprised he had time for a cup of tea.

And a Happy New Year.

2013 has been the most difficult year of my life, and it had a knock on effect in my writing. As for the Sunday Roast, I hope throughout, people haven’t been offended by what I say. It really is, tongue-in-cheek.

I don’t actually dislike One Direction. I wouldn’t know their songs if they were blasting my eardrums. I don’t even hate Russel Brand, Sharon Osbourne or any of the other celebrities I’ve lampooned. Even the royals, I’m ambivalent about. So I’m truly okay with all I have a go at and none of the insults are meant. Well, apart from those directed at Iain Duncan Smith. He’s a complete cunt.

Dec 29 - Iain Duncan Smith

Farewell from the Sunday Roast.

Cheers.

Nick

Dec 15 - Christmas Card

Ahh … now I know Christmas is coming.

Christmas in my house would not be complete without the Stroods.

I imagine puzzled faces on those who have only read my Roasts over the last year. I shall explain. Mr and Mrs E Strood live a few doors down and over the road from me. Their house is one number different to mine.

The view from my window with the Stroods house on the corner and about the hundredth scrap van seen this morning

Since I arrived in 1997, I have had a Christmas card for the Stroods, wrongly delivered to my house from their friends, Betty and Bert. Now, how do I know it’s Betty and Bert? Ahem! I mistakenly thought it was for me and opened it that first year. Stupid, I should have known. I’m a miserable Bah Humbug bastard. Nobody sends me Christmas cards.

Anyway, the situation in my street is you don’t converse with your neighbours until the day they depart to a new house and then only if you’ve spent years nodding good morning at them. Therefore, every year I don the balaclava and mount a clandestine operation in the middle of the night to deliver the card to the correct address.

Now I know what you’re thinking, and it’s the same thing asked every year. Why the hell don’t I tell the Stroods and hand it personally? That’s just it. I don’t. Year after year, I carry out my mission. One occasion I got in trouble and set off two security lights, knocked over a wheelie bin and got chased by the dog. Then there was the year it snowed and I left tracks everywhere and had to go back with a brush to sweep them away.

As I say, I speak of this Christmas card every year as those of you who’ve followed me from Myspace will remember when the Sunday Roast appeared there. For people who can’t remember my roasts on Myspace – tough, you can’t see them any more as Justin Timberlake and his consortium erased all the blogs when they took over.

Back to the Stroods … and Betty and Bert. I always wait with anticipation for this card. You see, I get worried now. What if the Stroods move house and don’t inform Betty and Bert? Come on, in 16 years, they haven’t told them they’ve been sending a card to the wrong address, so it stands a chance. Then again, what if … what if … Betty and Bert … have died?

Nooooooo!

This was the major worry last year as (horror and concern) I didn’t get the card delivered to my house.

I was traumatised. Okay, there could have been the logical explanation that Betty and Bert had finally updated their address books, but come on, we all know that’s not likely.

However, I have the greatest pleasure to announce, yesterday. Saturday December 14, the card to Mr and Mrs E Stood – finally arrived … at my house. Its got glitter in it this year and I can rest in my sleep. At least I will once it’s past midnight and my in the dead of night military operation to deliver the bloody card is well and truly completed.

And a late tribute.

I know Nelson Mandela died over a week ago and he’s being buried as I speak, but I didn’t do a roast last Sunday so couldn’t comment.

I don’t think I have ever seen a person’s passing marked so universally with everybody I know, praising them.

When I see good folk dying young while scumbag tyrants like Pinochet, Mugabe and Thatcher live to a ripe old age, it reinforces my belief that there isn’t a God. However, here is one guy who deserved the long life they received. Below is a picture I posted over a year ago when he met David Cameron while perfecting the art of turning into a chameleon.

July 22 Chameleon Mandela

Yes, it’s a joke, but one I think Nelson would have laughed at as he did seem to have a cracking sense of humour. Must have done to describe meeting the Spice Girls as being one of the greatest moments of his life.

Dec 15 - Nelson Mandela meets the Spice Girls

Stormy Weather.

There has been some terrible weather in the last week or so and much of the East Coast has been badly affected. I saw one piece where David Cameron visited the oddly named coastal town, Wells-Next-The-Sea.

I feel for anybody in a situation where homes are ruined, but feel for the local council. They are now going to have to change all their stationery to read, Wells-In-The-Sea.

Bad pun? I expect to get a flood of complaints now.

More sights you see about town …

Last time out, I posted a picture of a shop window displaying what I can only describe as decapitated heads.

Dec 1 - Head (1024x579)

Well, I saw another one this week which stirred my interest. Monsters from Doctor Who.

Dec 15 - Flower Heads (447x1024)

Don’t believe me? Look at this picture from the 1986 story, Trial of a Time Lord.

Dec 15 - Doctor Who Vervoid

Hey, December 15 and I’ve only said, Bah humbug, once.

Twice, Damn it! Oh well, think of me tonight as I deliver the Stroods card … probably waking the entire neighbourhood in the process.

Cheers.

Nick

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