Tag Archive: Myspace


The Sunday Roast – The Small Package

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August 11, 2013

An update …

Things still pretty rubbish in the house of Nick. I will tell all in a future Living with David post but until everything is sorted, it’s best to keep quiet. Rest assured, he’s okay, it’s others who were meant to be helping him that are the problem. So, I shall try to keep roasting and inflict some news, views and the stupid things I encounter in my life. If only in smaller packages

And none stupider that this parcel I received last week.

I had ordered a tool to help my son dismantle cabinets at his old flat. It arrived the other day. See …

August 11 packing 1

Note the scale. Twelve inches by about six, in the form of this cardboard box.

Curious, you may ask. What tool could I have bought which required such a delivery. A large screwdriver, sets of spanners … a great big hammer to smash the unit to pieces? No, none of those. Shall we see?

August 11 packing 2

Open the box. Hmmmmm. What tool would warrant all this loose packing inside. Must be something extremely fragile. Shall we press on?

August 11 - Packing 3

Wait! Is the item in that plastic bag. What the hell?

August 11 Allen Key

There you have it. Quite the most over the top packaging ever for a two-inch by one, Allen Key (pictured in the middle of the box if you can just about spot it).

You have to give the company credit. There is no way that tiny piece of hardened steel was going to shatter in the post.

Talk to the face …

Latest in a series of crazy technological apps is one which will apparently make paying for services, easier.

Smartphones will now have the ability to allow shoppers to make a payment by using their face. You can check in, have your image recognised and use it as a valid payment record.

Great. I’m now going to pay for plastic surgery so I can look like either Paul McCartney or Bernie Ecclestone.

Comedy of the Year?

Aug 11 - The Heat

That’s what the trailer said about new film, The Heat.

Is it ridiculously funny as claimed, I have no idea. However, if it is all it’s cracked up to be, shouldn’t there be at least one funny bit in the promo to tempt me?

 They’ve finally bitten the dust …

Aug 11 - jedward

Yay! After irritating the hell out of us for the past four or five years, talentless duo, Jedward are facing a battle to stay in the public eye as the novelty has worn off. Two albums flopping and now dropped by their mentor, people have had enough.

Now I have to admit, I’ve nothing against them. Actually, I don’t watch anything they would be on or listen to their (alleged) music. But I do have to say one thing to them. Well done. A fantastic act of forging a career by being annoying twats of the highest degree. Come on, lads, it was never going to last, but you’ve done well out of pretending to be stupid.

I really hope they were pretending.

Twins … fascinating subject. Always amazed by the tales that one feels the pain of the other. In Jedward’s case, does that mean you’d only have to shoot the one of them?

 Daylight robbery.

Well, robbery of justice, anyway.

Interested to see criminal Ronnie Biggs, celebrating 50 years of the Great Train Robbery. Interested due to the fact the media seem to enjoy glorifying a scumbag who took part in a violent heist which ruined a man’s life, leading to his death shortly after.

Aug 11 - Ronnie Biggs

Here he is in March, still alive despite being given compassionate parole four years earlier while claiming he was on death’s door.

Living the life of luxury in South America for years, he only came home when the money ran out and needed the UK to help him in poor health.

Some people get away with murder. Ronald Biggs? You decide.

All the best, folks.

Hope to see you next week. Hope I’ll be here. Perhaps.

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – And Yet Another Trip into the Myspace Archives.

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August 4, 2013

An explanation.

You will have noticed of late, I’ve done a bit of re-posting of my old Myspace blogs as they were hard to find these days. However, they are totally impossible to view now as new Myspace has deleted them all. It’s a good job I have the original texts. I shall blog about Myspace in the week but for now, a trip down memory lane and what I was doing four years ago on the Sunday Roast.

Okay, the story so far …

The Sunday Roast that week, like now, was done while watching England play Australia in the Ashes.

Aug 2 - The Ashes

I was also forced to listen to Matthew, Eleanor and David run riot in their attempts to wreck the house they had just helped tidy.

Also, we were in the middle of the now famous swine flu outbreak and David had only just recovered from it. It was a worry at the time, but this is how I told the story of my attempts to get his medicine.

Medicinal mission (Originally posted 2 August 2009).

I had to go out last week to pick up David’s dose of Tamiflu anti-viral medicine to combat the swine flu. To get it, I made my way to a medical centre and collected along with dozens of other people who had relatives with this flu virus.

As I sat there, I noticed people appeared to be staring at me, and I didn’t know why. That was until I twigged. I was wearing my Manic Street Preachers tee-shirt which had the logo of the album along with the title in large letters which read, Journal for Plague Lovers.

Ouch!

The tee-shirt is actually the one I wear in my website header photo.

049-york-2009-1552.jpg

Talk about inappropriate to use during an epidemic, though.

And back then, after seeing my son through his illness … (Originally posted 2 August 2013).

After a really bad night on Sunday which I spent looking after David (setting the alarm to wake me every hour), I returned from work on Monday to an evening free as David was staying at his Mom’s in order to give me some rest.

I attempted to have a nap after getting home but could I settle? Could I hell as like.

I lay and tried to relax, but all I could hear were the noises the house appears to make.

Click … crack … crack-crunk. Click … click … crack-crunk … crack. Thump, crack … crack-crunk … thumpty crack-crunk … thump.

ARRRRGGGHHHH!

I jumped out of bed, totally unsettled and as relaxed as a breakdancer on acid.

Picture the scene. I am there, stark naked, standing between the bathroom and my bedroom on the landing with the other two bedroom doors open, desperately poised to detect where the bloody hell these irritating noses were coming from.

Nothing, not a bloody sound as I wait three minutes before tentatively creeping back to bed and attempting to settle down once more.

Ahhhhh, I thought.

Crack-crunk … crack … crack.

ARRRRGGGHHHH!

Perhaps it was because I was wound up at the time. Nothing like that happens now, does it?

Crack!

WTF?

Also at the time … (Originally posted 2 August 2009)

Okay, so I may not have succumbed to the Swine Flu, or gone mad with the creaking of my house, but it didn’t stop me from getting a bout of stomach problems as my insides appeared to imitate a washing machine on a full wash cycle.

Therefore, while my digestive system was doing a long program of delicate coloured fabrics with pre-wash, I was desperately trying to find something to relieve it.

I took some Gaviscon, but that is yuk, in particular.

Aug 2 - Gaviscon

At least it’s better than when it used to be gooey pink as I was never quite sure whether to drink or clean the windows with it. I then tried Tums, but had to give up as they taste so nice and I didn’t want to OD on them. Therefore, for the first time since I was five, I had some Milk of Magnesia. God, that took me back a few years, and it still tastes bloody disgusting.

Aug 2 - Milk of Magnesia

It could have been worse at the time. I could have taken Andrew’s Liver Salts. Now there’s an experience. Never try to swallow those fizzy bubbles while inhaling through you nose. Ugh!

And finally, Cyril … (Originally posted August 4 2009).

Aug 4 - Cyril Fletcher.

Now here’s a bit of advice to leave you with. When you make a cup of tea late at night, don’t make it in the semi darkness using the light from the nearby living room, especially if your fridge light doesn’t work, either.

You see, my plastic bottles of milk are the same design as Banana Yazoo milkshake and can be mistaken as such.

Aug 2 Yazoo Milkshake

Mmmmm, that was nice (he says sarcastically). Why don’t I try yoghurt on toast next time to go with it?

And back to the present day.

Hope you enjoy these old Myspace blogs. I like to let them live again, seeing as Myspace are intent on obliterating them.

Cheers.

Nick

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Living with David (Coping with an Autistic Adult) – The Man with the Incredible Memory.

Filed under: Autism — 6 Comments
June 23, 2013

David is my teenage son and autistic. When first diagnosed at the age of three, the doctor told me he would never develop mentally. However, over the years he has evolved within his own world. Here, I hope to tell of some of the strange but sometimes wonderful things about him and hopefully give a little insight and understanding into living with autism.

No Sunday Roast column this week. A few people know it has been a difficult time of late, to say the least. One of my major concerns is David and his future. I’m not going to dwell on the problems as it’s not appropriate to speak about them at present. Rest assured, he’s well and getting the support he needs in order to progress in the coming months. Therefore, what I’d like to do is focus on the positive and talk about the incredible memory of someone on the autistic spectrum.

David enjoys his music. He loves his camera and videos. He will sit at the computer, strategically place his MP3 and record via the speakers, music off You Tube. At the same time, he will have numerous other browsers open. While the backing track is playing, he will switch between clips from TV shows and his own recordings. On top of that, he will commentate.

He was at mine the other day, taking a rare opportunity at the minute to access the internet. I didn’t see him for hours. However, he came downstairs at one point and spoke to me.

‘Dad, what’s this?’

He proceeded to hum a tune which I vaguely recognised, but not enough to know what it was. He repeated it several times and was quite consistent.

‘Okay, David, is this something I have in my collection?’

‘Yes.’

Didn’t tell me much, and he had no idea which artist it was. Therefore …

‘When did you hear me playing it, David?’

‘In car,’ he answered.

Ahh … we were getting somewhere. A clue. ‘When did you hear me play it in the car?’

‘2003.’

I stopped. 2003? He was having a laugh.

‘David,’ I said, ‘how the hell do you expect me to remember 2003? I mean, where were we?’

‘Safari Park.’

Right. So basically, I had to recall what CD I had on in the car during a visit to West Midlands Safari Park, ten years ago.

I scanned through my collection of 700 CDs, looking at ones which I would have had for ten years or more. Narrow it down. However, I soon realised this was a waste of time as I’ve culled hundreds in recent years and as it wasn’t a tune I instantly knew, it stood a chance I no longer had it.

Half an hour searching and David repeating the tune. Nothing. I even tried him with the app on my phone which identifies songs. However, that only seems to work if you play the actual song.

In the end …

‘What else did we listen to that day?’

‘Duran Duran,’ David said.

Okay, it didn’t sound like any Duran Duran I knew. Maybe an album track?

I was subjected to another ten minutes of David’s rendition and had a thought.

‘David, sing me some other songs you heard that day?’

He did. Some were Duran Duran, others, I didn’t recognize. Then …

‘Wait, that’s Common People, by Pulp. Not Duran Duran. An hour there and an hour back to the Safari Park, it was unlikely we’d have had more than two albums on during the journey.

Pulp.

I dug into my CD collection. I hadn’t listened to Pulp for ages. I found Greatest Hits, stuck it on. Finally, track 11 – This is Hardcore.

‘That’s it!’ shouted David, excited.

Sorted. It was the piano piece from the song he’d been singing. Therefore, after that, and for the rest of the afternoon, I heard, This is Hardcore blasting from the computer, interspersed with his other recordings.

But I’m amazed. How the hell can he recall what songs were playing on a certain date? Another mystery of the autistic mind. But then, I don’t think there goes a day spent with David where he doesn’t amaze me in one way or another.

Cheers.

Nick

IMGP5685 (1024x768) David listening to his music © Antony N Britt

David listening to his music.

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The Sunday Roast – Myspace Revisited.

Filed under: Sunday Roast — 4 Comments
June 9, 2013

Introduction.

I’m delving into the old Myspace archives again. Things not been great in old Walsall but I don’t want to go weeks without a roast. Therefore, I’m re-posting more of my now impossible to find roasts from the Myspace days. However, I’m going to go against my OCD and not leave where I left off the last time I re-hashed the old stuff. You see, I was up to December 2008 and I thought, looking today, it would seem silly when the sun is shining to be talking about the perils of Christmas shopping.

June 9 Father Christmas Sunbathing

Yes, not quite the season for Father Christmas.

Therefore …

Britain’s Got Talent Pushy Parents (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I saw the clip of a little ten year old on Britain’s Got Talent. This is the girl who forced hard man, Simon Cowell, to give her a second chance after she broke down and cried with a hissy fit. Verruca Salt from Willy Wonka would have been proud of the performance. Am I being cruel and heartless, though to say that I found it incredibly funny? At the end of the day, there is a moral here about the pitfalls for our kids if left in the hands of pushy parents. Kids should be kids but some parents just want to bask in the glory.

June 9 Girl cries on Britain's got Talent

There she is, in tears after that cruel pair, Ant and Dec, told her the show hadn’t time to give her a second chance. Cue the tears, enter Simon Cowell … On with the second chance.

Sense of fair play, 0 … Spoiled Brats, 1.

And I hate to say it, even though I don’t watch the show, I catch bits occasionally and it’s still full of tiny tantrums in the making which the audiences go gooey-eyed over.

You have to wonder about the parents. Ahhh, if only they could keep them young forever. They’d milk millions from them.

Also during that week … Britt’s adventures eating out (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I spoke the other week how us with the Britt name get bad experiences, wherever we go, particularly while eating out. Well, four years ago …

I went out twice this week. The Indian Restaurant was nice, even though I had to avoid having the Travellers on the other table offer to do the guttering on my house. They even tried it on with the old couple on a nearby table and three of the waiters into the bargain.

Normal Nick service was resumed when I went to Pizza Hut the following day. Not the usual one where we get bad service from aggressive staff. We tried that one and were told there was a 25 minute wait for a table. Therefore, myself and companion of the time, went to the other one around the corner in the Shopping Centre. There we were seated straight away … then had to wait 25 minutes for somebody to take our order.

I say seated straight away … that was after this huge lady came into the place and made a beeline for the table we were being showed to without approaching any staff and almost knocked my companion over in the process. The staff allowed this and also served her first because she shouted louder. So it was great fun for us to wait for our order to be taken as she wolfed down her starters. Still, at least we got the bill before her and left with satisfaction when I commented that I hoped she choked on her gateaux.

Bitter, me?

And I still hate Pizza Hut. I always have some bad experience. I don’t even own up to going there any more. And I’m not the only one. Former footballer, Gareth Southgate even wore a paper bag on his head in this Pizza Hut TV commercial.

June 9 Gareth Southgate Pizza Hut Advert

Weird. He has a paper bag on his head, yet it still looks like Gareth Southgate.

Callers who leave me cold. (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I had a call the other night from a company called Space Designs. I’ve had them before and the woman put the phone down on me as soon as I said I wasn’t interested.

This time, when I said no thank you, the guy from Space Designs got aggressive with me, shouting, ‘What do you mean you aren’t interested? You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.’

WTF? It’s my bloody phone isn’t it? They rang me on my time. I can say what I bloody well like. Therefore, in revenge, I managed to engage this pillock in an argument which lasted over five minutes. That’s five minutes of his sales time when he could have been contacting somebody who actually gave a damn.

Message to all Cold callers, don’t mess with the Empty Souls.

June 9 Blondie hanging on the Telephone

Okay, I couldn’t find a picture which demonstrated dealing with cold callers. Therefore, here’s Blondie singing Hanging on the Telephone.

I will add, Empty Souls was my pseudonym on Myspace.

Let’s talk about sex, baby … (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

Or rather, tantric sex.

I was reading an old article about Sting and his experiences with Tantric Sex. Basically, this practice appears to be where people forego any physical intimacy and instead, do it on a spiritual path. By using their inner eye, they can apparently focus on their partner and reach sexual satisfaction without all that tedious, messy shagging.

My God, you have to admire the invention of the woman who came up with that one. You know, some poor lass who wanted an excuse not to have some fat hairy bloke humping and grunting on top of her for ten minutes while they were more concerned with trying to breathe. I mean, the old I’ve got a headache, darling, must have been wearing a bit thin and they obviously needed a new approach.

Imagine the scene. Tired woman wants to relax but there he is, in the bedroom, undressing with expectant grin on face while trying to hold the muffin top belly from exploding over his boxer shorts.

‘Darling,’ she says, ‘I’m going to suggest we try something different tonight.’

At this point, hairy bloke will get excited because he thinks she may be about to abandon all that messing about called, foreplay.

‘I’ve been reading about this thing called Tantric Sex, and I think it would benefit us. What we do is both remove our clothes and sit six feet apart from one another. While we concentrate our energies, our inner eye will focus on our bodies and eventually, we reach sexual satisfaction. Oh and you may find it helpful if you close your eyes while you’re doing it. Plus, I’m going to be glancing at Hello Magazine as it aids my spirituality and hopefully we can both enjoy this fantastic experience.’

Therefore, while he is sitting cross legged with eyes closed and inner eye exploring the contours of her clitoris, her inner eye is pricing up pink sparkly heels.

If I tried something like this, my mind would switch off and I’d be asleep within minutes. Perhaps that’s what the desired effect is.

July 8 Sting Smug Git

Tantric sex, as promoted by Smug Git of the Year, twenty times running, Sting. He wouldn’t be so smug if he worked out wife, Trudie, just wanted a peaceful night when she suggested tantric.

So long, and see you next time.

Okay, hope you enjoyed that. I do aim to re-post more old blogs rather than have them lost in the catacombs of Myspace but hopefully, next week I shall be back to normal.

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – More Myspace Roasts.

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May 19, 2013

The good old days …

May 19 - The Good Old Days

Nooooo! Not that Good Old Days!

It’s time for another trip down memory lane and a delve into the archives of the old Myspace Sunday Roasts. Or another way of putting it, I have bugger all to write about this week.

I still curse at Myspace as it has been painful for a long time to log on and revisit my old hunting ground. This matter was compounded even more, recently. You see, not only have Myspace deleted many of the pictures on my old blogs, all the lovely comments by my readers have been removed, now.

And they expect me to sign up for the new updated Myspace? No thanks.

June 10 Myspace sucks

Therefore …

My bit for recycling (Originally posted 16 November 2008)

No, I’m not referring to recycling my old roasts, but an actual piece on helping the environment, as of five years ago.

February 24 - Recycle Logo

I’m always one for trying to save the environment, and I do my bit. Recyle. However, I wonder how efficient my energy saving efforts are. I had a foil tin which had contained a meal with cheese. Well, while washing up, I suddenly realised I’d spent over two minutes trying to clean this for recycling by running the hot tap water on it, thus burning my gas in heating the water. I also wasted about two litres of the water into the bargain. So how is that a saving?

Still, I did come across a new environment friendly thing the other day. A pen made from recycled car parts. Lets just hope it wasn’t recycled from a Renault because if a spring goes, it will cost £50 to replace and you’ll have to wait three weeks for the parts to be shipped from France.

Hmm, Pens made from recycled car parts … I wonder if you have a pen made from a 4×4, does it guzzles the ink faster? And would one made from a Rover 75 write slower than any other pen you have ever used in your life? What about biros made from old Volvo’s; are they able to tow a caravan? And finally, would those made from a Vauxhall Vectra have loads of little switches which seem to have a mind of their own and only work when they want to?

And this still happens five years on … (Originally posted 16 November 2008)

I am reminded of a quick emergency trip I made to Asda the other day (Walmart, as some of you over the stream may call it) .

Now why is it, when you go into Asda and only purchase two packets of ‘Weight Watchers Creamy Chicken with Mushrooms’ for £3, are you asked by the checkout person, ‘Would you like any help with your packing?’

However, when you are there after spending £200 which is crammed into two full trolleys, both with dodgy wheels which keep locking and you have three kids running around, all piling sweets into said trolleys (that you specifically told them not to), and you have to scream at them to stop sliding on the polished floor, or pushing the public address system button while screaming ‘Scooby Dooby Doooo!’ to the entire store, are you left by the formerly helpful checkout person to pack all the bloody stuff yourself?

And don’t even get me started on self-scan tills. Only I could have an argument with a machine.

May 19 - Checkout

Automated checkouts. This one was on a lunch break.

And now for the paranormal … (Originally posted 30 November 2008)

I have never been one to believe in UFOs. Surprising when you consider my experience the paranormal with ghosts and stuff. However, I heard a story on the news that a place very close to myself has some of the most convincing UFO accounts in the UK. I did a little research and found out that West Bromwich and surrounding area has had more than its fair share, one of which goes back to 1979.

According to the British UFO Research Association, a woman reported an egg-shaped object about eight feet long which had flown down and landed in her garden. The association also say, the object left prominent ground traces which were subsequently photographed and measured. The woman then found that her eyesight was adversely affected and her general well-being was so disturbed, her GP advised her to stay off work for a fortnight. Typical Black Country excuses. Anything for a week or two on the sick. Apparently, after a short stay in her garden, the ship took off again and hovered before shooting off west and heading towards Dudley. It was obvious the aliens were aware the Merry Hill Centre had late opening hours and they wanted to do a bit of shopping.

May 19 - Close Encounters

UFO landing outside Primark.

Those accounts were from the UFO archives. However, at the time of writing the piece, my team, West Bromwich Albion were bottom of the Premier League and got relegated that year. So, therefore from 2008 …

A police helicopter flying at 1500ft over West Bromwich came across a UFO when they had a near miss and almost collided with the bugger. However, looking deeper, I found more sightings in which two separate witnesses, again in West Bromwich, observed “White round balls of light close together which came out of the sky, floated, then disappearied.’

Ahhh, it began to make sense. West Bromwich. You see, West Bromwich Albion hadn’t scored many goals at that time. Most shots were wide of the mark and blasted miles out of the ground

Bloody UFOs, my arse! It’s that team and their inability to put a round ball into the back of a massive net. In fact, the blooming things are still traveling, now.

May 19 - Kanu Miss 2004

Above, we have a prime example and the Kanu open goal fluff from 2004. One foot out, he managed to balloon the ball over the bar where it was then lost, but later found by Mulder and Scully.

May 19 - Mulder and Scully

So, that wraps up the nostalgia for today.

Hopefully by next week, something will have happened for me to write about. Till then …

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – The Best of Myspace Roasts

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February 24, 2013

An explanation.

Last October, I marked the 4th anniversary edition of the Sunday Roast by reposting some older pieces which are now, unfortunately, lost in the depths of Myspace. I said, when reposting that I would make it a regular occurrence. Well, I think the time is right to do so again. Most of those posts are impossible to find on the now-useless Myspace and if you did, you’d find my pictures have been wiped by the techno-cretins who administer the thing.

Therefore, I shall keep to my promise of bringing to life once more, those roasts of the past. Or, to put it another way, I have bugger all to write about this week so decided to recycle a load of 4-year-old junk.

February 24 - Recycle Logo

The day after I hit 45 … (Originally Posted 26 October 2008)

I wrote the following pieces the day after my forty-fifth birthday. Now, what wouldn’t I give to be 45 again and not, as is currently the case, approaching a rather more daunting landmark. Looking back, I appear to have had a good time.

I had loads of nice stuff for my birthday, the most amusing being a Doctor Who, toy sonic screwdriver. Look, I am Doctor Who crazy and have been since I was a kid. They never had things like toy sonic screwdrivers in those days, I had to make do with a broken tyre pressure gauge and pretend. Still, all ends well. I have one now. The irony is, I spent over half an hour looking for a tiny screwdriver so that I could put the batteries into the sonic one.

Febriary 24 - Toy Sonic Screwdriver © Antony N Britt

Over four years later, I still have the sonic device.

Also on that birthday …

I went to see one of my favourite groups, The Stranglers at the Carling Academy in Birmingham. I go every time they are in town, which is usually once a year and I really enjoyed myself. I like to go as you never know how long they will keep going before one of them dies. It is quite amusing, however, watching a band which has been around for over thirty years and seeing the ageing audience rock the night away. It used to be that the fans all had hideous comb-overs. Now they go for the shaved look as it seems more trendy. I was there, in the mix, enjoying myself in the centre of the crowd doing the old man’s dance routine of rocking about without moving your legs. Still, I couldn’t help myself. No … you don’t understand. I really couldn’t help myself not being able to move my legs. You see, there was so much spilled beer about the place, my Dr Martens had stuck to the floor.

As the evening wore on, a crowded arena became more spacious as the majority of larger members of the audience tried to find what few seats there were in order to gasp for breath as they searched for an oxygen tank.

Still, it all went off well and even my vehicle was still there when I returned to the car park. I had unfortunately, made the mistake of leaving it in possibly the most frightening and decrepit car park I can ever remember using. However, it was cheap (for Birmingham) and it was really nice of those bums to light a bonfire next to my car so I could find it in the dark.

Bedroom Mess … (Originally posted 26 October 2008).

I got one task out of the way – The horror of cleaning the kids bedroom. This is the one my other kids who live elsewhere, stay in during the nights they are with me. Unfortunately, it had been a while since cleaning and I found some right horrors under the bed. One particular item, and I am not quite sure what it, is now in a cage and I’m feeding it.

Feb 24 - Poltergeist Clown

The possibility of what you might find underneath the bed.

Time management … (Originally posted 2 November 2008)

Arrrgggh! There is so much I want to do these days and I just haven’t got the time. And do you know why? Bloody Spider Solitaire. You know, the cheap free game which comes with windows on the PC. It is the most addictive thing I have ever played. Seven hours the other week I was bloody well on the thing. I could still see cards in my sleep. In fact, I am playing it now while typing, for Christ’s sake. King, Queen, Jack, Ten, Seven … Bugger!

Feb 24 - Spider Solitaire

Anyway, will somebody please come over to my house and remove it from my PC as soon as possible SO I CAN GET SOME FRIGGIN WORK DONE! Six, Five, Four, Ace … Damn!

Let’s abbreviate this … (Originally posted 9 November 2008)

I have been a bit down and tired this week. I found things a struggle and at times, ill as if I was coming down with something. However, it never transpired into a full illness. My nan used to talk about winter weariness and when I was young, I used to make fun of how she constantly went on about it. However, these days, I think I know what she was talking about.

At least two people have actually said to me that I may have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). What this basically means, in the winter months, I turn into a right miserable bastard.

What do you mean, just in the winter months?

Great. Now I have SAD on top of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). What is this, a case of AB (Abbreviation Syndrome)? Next thing, it’ll be POWGTW (Pissed Off With Going To Work), or even OCIBTCA (Oh Christ, I Burnt The Chips Again). I’ll shut up, before I develop BYTTS (Boring You To Tears Syndrome)

Talking about OCD, I was having a meal recently and was picked up over my peculiar habits. You know the sort of thing … like the fact you there is a method to what order you should eat things off a plate. Look, if I’ve eaten all my vegetables then find one solitary pea under my rump steak, the world will end – okay!

I never actually realised how bad my OCD was until I started talking about it. However, the stupid thing is, I deliberately start doing things which aren’t OCD, just to disprove the theory. I guess what it all boils down to is that it has taken me a number of decades to finally realise, yes, I am strange.

February 24 - CD Collection © Antony N Britt

Look, arranging your CDs in artist order, then sub-sorting them into date of release, is the only way to achieve perfect karma.

That’s all folks, for now, from the best of the Myspace Blogs.

It’s interesting for me to delve into them, if I’m honest. And a bit frightening. It’s been years since I wrote them and now reading back, I’m kind of thinking … this guys on another planet.

Feb 24 - Saturn

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

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December 30, 2012

Highlights of 2012

December 30 - 2012

What I thought I’d do this week is what many publications or television programs put out this time of year. We’re going to have a nostalgic look back at some of the pieces which I’ve roasted about during 2012. Or to put it another way – recycle a load of crap because I can’t be arsed to write a proper blog this week.

With that in mind …

January.

Ha! There was no January. I only started this site February 1. However, as I’ve pointed out on a number of occasions, the Sunday Roast ran for three years on Myspace. The decline of that site was the reason I decided to set up my own, but I am always thankful for Myspace,  even if it is now a total bag of shite.

June 10 Myspace

February.

Okay, this has to be one of my favourites, straight from the off.

Poor Roger Medwell. Imagine the scenario. You spend 55 years working for British Aerospace and on retiring as a director, they give you this …

Feb 12 roger-painting

Smile, Roger, smile. Stop gritting those teeth. You didn’t want a new surround sound system, anyway.

March.

If you follow my blogs, you’ll know I have a love/hate relationship with my own Walsall Council. I love to bait them, and they hate me for it. So much so, I’m told my site has been blocked, meaning council workers cannot read it while at work.

Anyway, after one of our spats, I trawled through their Twitter feed and came across this picture of their attempts to promote the town.

March 18 Hooker

What exactly are they trying to attract – prostitution? I think the idea was to display a layout for planned improvement. However, all it seemed to show was a damn good place to pick up hookers.

April.

This was a Titanic month. In fact, it was a theme which went on for quite a while. You see, I’ve always had this beef with the film, Titanic. You know, the fact that Rose is safe in the lifeboat but jumps back on board thus endangering Jack. All that, “I jump, you jump,” nonsense. If she’d stayed on the bloody lifeboat, Jack would have had that piece of wood to himself when the ship went down. Not only that, it was bloody well big enough for the both of them.

April 1 Titanic Water 2

Couldn’t she have given him a turn? And then there was his last words to her. “Don’t let go, Rose, don’t you ever let go.”

So what does she do? She bloody let go. Her may not have been dead, just in cold storage for a bit. What a cow.

May.

It was about this time I had loads of people searching for pictures of the dentally challenged when I did a bit about guests with bad teeth on the Jeremy Kyle Show.

Sorry, no dentures today. That was drilled to death in the summer. Go and search the archives.

My favourite piece this month showed the fine line between humour and tragedy, and that newspapers need to have a bloody good copy editor before they send the thing to print.

A note to anybody in the newspaper industry. Always check for inappropriate advertising placement before you run a story above it.

May 6 Headline

June.

This was it, the month when I took the kids on their annual holiday, only for it to piss down all week. As well as getting rained on, I was kept awake with my caravan being ten feet away from a main road. I also faced financial ruin after spending all my cash in amusement arcades because I couldn’t go anywhere due to  the aforementioned rain.

But did it end there? No! Not only did the machines bankrupt me, they wouldn’t pay out on the few occasions I did win.

June 17 Fruit Machine

Yes, IOU £1. That’s the first time I’ve ever been given an IOU from a machine.

July.

And to celebrate his 94th birthday, Nelson Mandela turns into a chameleon.

July 22 Chameleon Mandela

August.

And I can’t believe after many months, some people were still using their search engines to find Jeremy Kyle Teeth and ending up with me.

No – still not going to show any pics but one thing I did comment on was the evolution of man. You see, scientists reckon in a few million years, the human race will have evolved into a higher and lower species.

Millions of years? It’s already happened. Look!

Aug 11 Evolution of Chav

Ascent of man? I bloody hope not.

September.

Bit of a quiet month over here, but not in Haren – Holland after some silly girl posted on Facebook that she was having a party. 4000 people gatecrashed the event causing riots and thousands of pounds worth of damage.

Sept 30 Haren

4000 people! Imagine. That’s 4000 people without a social life.

October.

I spent much of this month traumatised after a good friend of mine, Rich, pointed out that the picture of the smiling Aquafresh family from the 80s, seemed to suggest the mother and father were siblings and their child could be the result of an incestuous relationship.

Oct 21 - Teeth

I’m still receiving counselling.

November.

November – I saw this strange sight.

Nov 25 - Solo Chair in Wolverhampton © Antony N Britt

A single seat for shoppers to sit on. All the others in Wolverhampton Centre appeared to be of a two or three seat variety. However, this one was on its own. A seat for Nobby No Mates.

Only in Wolverhampton.

December.

Two words to sum up December.

December 23 - Bah Humbug!

So that was 2012.

Not sure how long I’m going to go on roasting. Could be time for a break. Like a jar of pickled onions, there’s only so much you can take before things start to repeat. I mean, how much more can I wring out of the Titanic nonsense, or talk about Gothic Girl while going on about people with bad teeth on Jeremy Kyle.

Yes, I certainly think I should leave the latter, alone.

December 30 - Jeremy Kyle Teeth

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – Happy Birthday to the Roast … With a Few Cretins Thrown In.

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October 14, 2012

I think I’d best say one thing about the Sunday Roast …

Yes, four years ago this week, way back in the good old days of Myspace, I posted my first roast. Up until then, I’d been content to write about anything that took my fancy, blogging whenever it did. Yesterday, I was reminded of the birthday when I took part in two workshops at the Birmingham Book Festival and it was while going to one of the same in 2008, I found I had loads of things to write about. It was too much for one post so I bunged them all in one pot-pourri and called it The Sunday Roast.

As I say in my About Me, section, the Roast ran every week for two years, then on and off during 2011 when Myspace went down the toilet. Finally, the Roast began here once more, earlier this year. The old blogs are still there on Myspace, but it would take you a week to navigate the mess on that site.

Therefore, something I can do (as I have the original word documents stored on my computer), is re-publish this …

From the very first Roast (12 October 2008).

I had a dream about my younger kids last night. They were playing on some climbing frames and I was calling for them to come off so we could go home. It was one of those dreams where you think things are real until you wake and then question if it was true or not. However, after a few seconds, I knew this one was a dream when they actually came after only the second time of calling.

Rascals – Circa 2008.

All work and no play make some writers … very dull boys, indeed.

As I have mentioned, I attended two writing workshops yesterday. However, as I was also going out in the evening, I wouldn’t have time to have done this roast had I not prepared it Friday night. And it is on the subject of writing workshops that I now wish to speak.

I love them. They are usually very good and I gain something from each I go to. The downside is, you sometimes come across some right arty-farty writers who are so far up their own arse, they could give themselves an enema.

Take the one I did last year. It was a great workshop at the Birmingham Museum Collection Centre – where all the exhibits are kept when not on display. There are literally hundreds of thousands of things, all in mothballs … including a collection of mothballs. Anyway, we were sent out to explore, choose an object and write about what inspired us.

Easy. You had things such as this …

And this …

And even this …

No problem with so many exhibits in this Aladdin’s Cave. No problem, unless you were Richard (real name changed). He came back and declared to the entire group that he had scoured the museum, looking for that special thing. In the end, he found it. There – waiting for him at the end of a dusty corridor. One, lonely, empty shelf. It was the only empty shelf in the museum but he chose it as his inspiration not because of what it held, but for the potential of what could be stored there.

Thing is, all the others in the group played a game of Emperor’s New Clothes and pandered to this pillock, clapping hands and commenting, “How clever,” and “How original.” I did bite my tongue at such pretentious crap but really, all I wanted to scream was “FUCK OFF!”

And that’s the downside of being a writer. Generally, most the people I meet are of a similar mind to me. However, in some writing circles there seems to be a huge desire to turn it into some kind of minority interest. Spouting complete bollocks while pretending they are the next literary or poetic genius, when really, they have absolutely nothing to say.

And that reminds me of something which was also in that very first roast …

Once again, from the Sunday Roast (12 October 2008)

I took part in my first ever poetry workshop this weekend. It was okay but I lost interest toward the end when it evolved into a self-indulgent discussion on “What is Poetry?” It would have been better if it wasn’t for the fifty-something woman who thought she was the bee’s-knees of poetry. In she floated, wearing a silken neck-scarf and arriving twenty minutes late. Next thing, she let her phone ring – twice, then proceeded to thrust her opinions without actually showing anything productive or original, herself. I must admit, I never trust women who wear silken neck scarves, indoors. What are they trying to hide? I think in the case of this one, it could have been her Adams Apple.

Blimey, I was bitchy back then, but things at these events never change. You see yesterday, as I was waiting for one of this years workshops, I spied a guy in his sixties waiting in reception and immediately, I could tell. I’d got him earmarked him as the potential knob and he didn’t let me down. The woman leading the workshop had only just begun to speak before this buffoon interrupted.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘could you explain a little about the layout of the session?’

The workshop leader looked perplexed. ‘I’m just about to do so.’ She’d only been speaking thirty seconds.

The idiot did it again a while later, asked if we should do something or other. Did he want to get up and lead the workshop? We had by now got an explanation for him being such an arse. He was a priest. Say no more. Then the best. Some poor lass, trying to do her job came round to take a few photos for the festival website. Guess who objected? Yes … Father Fuckhead.

‘I don’t want my photo plastered over the internet.,’ he spouted, full of pompous self-importance. When somebody said that the photographer had spoken about making sure he wasn’t in the shots, the priest wasn’t convinced. ‘But can I trust her to do that?’

Look, Mr Priest. If you don’t want you bloody photo taken during a workshop, leave the room.

Cretin.

Yet again from the very first Roast (12 October 2008)

I wasn’t going to bother reprinting this one but also from that first ever Sunday Roast, was this next bit. Not only that, it was my opening line.

I have to hold my hands up and say I haven’t had too much time for blogging this last week or so. Even when I have found some time, I have been struggling to get online as my eldest son keeps hogging the computer … in my room. I had to tell him to go just after midnight yesterday. Well, I did want to go to bed so I think I was justified.

As I say, I wasn’t going to include that because it is mundane and pretty boring. However, as I was compiling much of this on Friday … at eleven o’clock at night, he turns up and before I know it, has plonked himself at my computer.

Some things never change, do they?

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – Crappy Myspace, Porn Mags and Life’s Mistakes.

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June 10, 2012

A brief explanation.

The Sunday Roast first appeared on Myspace in October 2008 and ran until September 2011 on that site. All of the posts are still there but unfortunately, in many of the roasts, my pictures appear to have vanished.

Thanks a bloody lot, Myspace. Many of those older posts do not make sense any more – if they ever did. Therefore, I will reproduce some of the best bits that I used to stick as Picture of the Week.

Secondhand porn magazines. Any takers?

This was in the first ever Sunday Roast, though the picture was taken later. It shows the frontage of a bookshop, and not just any old bookshop either. This one specialises in, erm … magazines, books and DVDs of a sexual nature. However, look at the notice above the door.

Book exchange? I don’t want to think about secondhand books from that shop. Imagine reading them all the while knowing where they’ve been? That’s if you could prise the pages apart. Yew!

A bit of a bell-end …

In the UK, we have a term for people who are stupid. In fact, we have many terms: Stupid, prat, twat, nob-head, and so on. All of these could be applicable to many folk I’ve known but there is also another one we use, namely – bell end. A bell end refers, of course, to the end of a man’s private parts and to call one a bell-end, is to say he is a cock, or a dick or even a prick.

Therefore, imagine my juvenile humour at seeing this street sign in Rowley Regis.

You couldn’t make it up. Just think if some guy from Bell End ever writes into the paper and they put the location next to his name.

John Smith – Bell End.

He’d never live it down.

Frosty the Snowman, was a creepy horrible soul.

This was a window display in the local Merry Hill (locally known as Merry Hell) Shopping Centre a few years back. I don’t know what the thought behind the snowman was and if it actually frightened the kids, but it sure scared the hell out of me.

The Full Monty?

Also in the Merry Hell Shopping Centre, around the same time were these fellas.

Not sure what it was they were advertising. The Emperor’s new clothes, maybe? Note the second from the right appears to be scratching his arse.

Now I know what you’re going to say, the staff were probably just dressing them. No. I remember it well. I saw them one day and the next visit, a week later, they were still the same. Perhaps as it was closing down, all the clothes had gone?

A chest of drawers … anybody.

This one is for a good friend of mine, John who originally brought it to my attention. A chest of drawers, obviously is a piece of furniture. However, this shop didn’t quite get the message right.

Chester Draws. Classic.

Gadgets you cannot live without # 1

The effective 2-way shoe stretcher. Ideal for stretching those shoes you buy that don’t fit.

Arrrgghh! Don’t buy the bloody wrong sized shoes, then.

And still on the subject of shoes …

And it’s back to Merry Hell Shopping Centre and another silly window display. This one tells us if you buy two slippers, you get the third free.

Hmmm … Haven’t actually seen many three-legged folk stumbling around recently. Are you going to tell them or shall I? Rolf Harris was only joking when he sung about Jake the Peg.

An effective method of contraception.

I don’t think this one needs any explanation, but it really was on a sign at a UK hospital.

100% safety rate … You reckon?

And while we’re on the subject …

I really can’t recall in what context I posted this picture of N-Dubz, but I can only assume it was as yet another warning for birth control.

Does the editor need an eye test.

I love this one. I think it was the Halesowen News that ran the story of poor old Robert Hadley and the burglary that took place at his home in which his grandfather’s medals were taken. You’d really think the copy editor would take more care of the sizing of pictures on the front page of the newspaper though. Wouldn’t you?

Sore loser?

When John Isner beat Nicolas Mahut, I believe it set a record for the longest tennis game in history. All’s fair in sport but the look on Mahut’s face after losing, is priceless.

Sign of the times?

This was inexplicably on a door at the Shakespeare Library Theatre a few years back.

How can you lock it if there isn’t a key?

And similarly …

This was at Park Hall Community Centre in the room where my writing group took place.

Why bother sticking a notice on the thing to say it’s broken. Just remove the bloody chair!

Quite possibly the worst advert … ever!

When Formula One supremo, Bernie Ecclestone was mugged and had his Hublot watch stolen, Hublot thought it a good move to show Bernie’s injuries to promote the fact on the basis that people will do anything to grab a Hublot.

Had the opposite effect on me. You see, I’d never buy a Hublot watch now. Not if wearing one meant I got mugged.

After the worst advert, the very worst tribute.

In the back yard of some pub in Halesowen. The tackiest tribute to Michael Jackson, ever seen.

And yet again, in Merry Hell once more …

This was also a few years back. You see, Merry Hell is not as big as some of the UKs major shopping centres. With that in mind, the best one shop could offer was for you to have your picture taken with a David Beckham … lookalike.

Great. Queue for hours to have a photo standing alongside a guy who isn’t David Beckham.

Gadgets you cannot live without # 2

A cat sleeping bag?

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, cat owners. As if …

What a load of bollards.

These bollards in the shape of children, were erected a few years back in Leicester to stop motorists driving on the pavements.

I don’t know about you, but if I’d seen one of these out the corner of my eye, I’d have left the driver seat, hit the roof of the car, swerved the vehicle and probably crashed into a shop.

And that could happen …

And finally Esther … I am indebted to some newspaper or other, for alerting me to this which I then blatantly stole and posted on a roast.

Say no more.

Cheers

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – Food, Fun and Fond Farewells

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March 4, 2012

A busy old week

I cannot believe how much work on the book I’ve achieved this week. The target is to finish the first draft by the end of the month, then let it stew until it’s time to edit with fresh eyes. Once done, I will have two novels, both totally unwanted by agents or publishers.

Angiebabe stayed at my house for over a week but went home on Thursday. She said, “At least you’ll be able to get more writing done.”

That’s not exactly true. While she has been here with me, I’ve done 10,000 words. She’s golden. Doesn’t interrupt me when I’m writing which is a great incentive to do more. You see … it’s the only way to shut her up.

Ouch! How did that pair of shoes hit me from fifteen miles away?

Chip Shop update …

Okay, I’m still confined to a promise not to have a go at Gothic Girl, but I am worried as she looked very … well, orange if I’m to be honest, judging by her appearance while serving me this week’s fish and chip meal.

I think she overdid it with the skin toner. Either that or she’d had a bath in the batter mix.

A great guy, who definitely left his mark.

I always say that when people depart this world, as long as somebody remembers them and all the wonderful things they’ve said, then they are never really dead.

I came across Bob on Myspace a few years back. He was from the States and always commented on my posts, including my ‘Living with David’s,’ where he’d say, “You done good, Son.” I’d subscribed to his writing as soon as I’d found this fascinating and entertaining character. He was blunt, to the point and didn’t suffer fools gladly, but he had one heck of a heart with a tale to tell. When I was going through a real bad patch, Bob wrote, “Nick, I got to be honest, if we were sharing a drink and you started going on like this, I’d get up and leave.” He had a point, and after a cyber-kick in the butt from Bob, I snapped out of my depression.

After desolation hit Myspace and everybody gave up on the site, I lost touch with Bob and only found out the other week he’d passed away. I visited his old Myspace site and fortunately, have been able to read some of his wonderful blogs again, one of which, I have no hesitation in reproducing here.

I MIGHT START GOING TO CHURCH AGAIN – by Bob
I mainly don’t go to church because it is the same damn thing every Sunday. You sit there, sing a few songs, and get your ass chewed out about all the sinning you are doing. While I’m pretty much against over-sinning, I believe a moderate amount of it is good for a body and makes life slide along smooth and easy.
But I drove by a church over there on Barton Chapel Road a couple of hours ago that might appeal to me; they had them a fairly decent free-for-all going on right there in the parking lot. Thirty or forty men and women, whamming the dog crap out of each other, chasing one another around cars and breaking the Golden Rule all to hell.
I’m thinking I may go see the preacher over there. If he can promise me a riot with each sermon I have to sit through, I’ll sign up.
PEACE ON YOU ALL.

When I visited his Myspace site, I discovered that he, like me, had abandoned it long ago. His last status update said, “Ain’t been here in a while. Like going back to a favorite whorehouse and finding a tofu store where it used to be.”

That was … simply – Bob. You done good, Fella!

And another sad loss …

Farewell Davey Jones, singer with the Monkees and the reason David Bowie is called – Bowie. Some nice tributes but nil points to the one I saw on the late night, ‘Sky News look at the next day’s papers.’ They showed a clip of ‘I’m a believer.’ One Monkees song that Jones ‘didn’t’ sing lead vocals on. Shame on you Sky, couldn’t you even try to get it right?

Nob of the week.

John Demmerling, head of Woodlands Primary School in Telford, took a week off work in school term-time to go on holiday with his children. This is despite his own school policy being that if a parent takes their kids out of school, they get hit with a £100 fine.

Now there are always two sides to any story and it transpires, Mr Demmerling worked many extra hours over the Christmas holiday period as the school was in the middle of moving to a new premises. It had been agreed with the school’s governors, that anybody doing the extra work, would have to be allowed time off within the new term, in lieu of hours already done.

Not a problem, if it was kept low key but it’s a huge own goal, don’t you think, to take your own kids out of their education and apply double standards while still trying to enforce your own. Yes, have a week off, but stay at home and save your skiing holiday for when everybody else is off and not going to complain.

Dunce of the week, Mr Demmerling? Go and stand in the corner.

I’m feeling short-changed.

I had a serious lack of judgement and taste yesterday when I purchased a copy of the Sun newspaper. Yes, the rag I’ve lambasted for the past couple of weeks, somehow found it’s way into my shopping bag. All well and good, I suppose, but when I got home, I found half of it was missing. Pages 25-48, appear to have been lifted by somebody else prior to my purchase which makes me beg the question, why?

Insert expression of shocked and stunned – here.

Okay, I’m not too worried as the Sun is hardly at the heart of journalistic excellence and without those missing pages to read, I’ll simply have to get on and write some more of my novel. It does slightly bother me that I paid 50p for half a paper though. I mean, how can I sleep tonight without knowing who Katie Price is shagging or if some reality TV nobody is facing a big fat gypsy tax bill?

Oh my, I’d best shut up. Otherwise I’ll have the sarcasm police after me.

Cheers.

Nick

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