As reported earlier in the year, Shooting Ghosts, another short story of mine, got an honourable mention in the Darker Times Monthly Competition for April. It is available on the Darker Times website but now also in Darker Times Anthology: Volume 4.
You can buy a copy of Darker Times Anthology: Volume 4, by clicking this link.
Cheers.
Nick
I’ve spoken a bit about 2013 being the year from hell. Still no resolution on the David situation but hopefully, things happening soon. I will explain the full story once all is resolved but basically, he’s been living in this assessment centre since June. Work permitting, I bring him home at least once a week and also take him out on day trips. This week, it was an old local favourite – Dudley Zoo.
There you go, the flamingos, which are usually the first thing I see on my visits. However, not this time.
I’ve been going to the zoo all my life and on this occasion, I was surprised to see the famous chairlift, working. Wow! It had been closed for years and do you know, in nearly fifty years, even as a kid, I’d never been on.
Cue the big kid to take a ride … then come straight back down again.
Okay, we would have come straight back down again had it not been for jobsworth regulations.
As I approached the top, I asked the operator if we could simply remain in our chairs. No, was the reply. We had to get out, walk around, and queue the other side.
Why? The chair only went ten feet around a bend and you were ready to descend again. Arrrggghh! And there was nobody else waiting, either.
I didn’t get a photo of the top, but it’s identical to the the station at the bottom.
See, how difficult would it have been to let us stay in our seats and simply go round the corner?
Stupid regulations. God knows what reason there was for it but if somebody says health and safety, I shall hit them with a flamingo.
Watching the sea lions, I heard a female voice behind me mocking the noise coming from the enclosure as whoever it was, approached.
‘Listen to them,’ she said. ‘ They sound like bloody seagulls.’
That’s because they are seagulls, dear. They were flying around trying to steal the fish.
I see Errol Damelin, founder of loan shark rip-off firm, Wonga, is getting divorced from his wife, Julie. My heart bleeds. Can’t feel any sympathy for somebody who makes his fortune on the back of the misery of others. It’s theft, nothing short of it how Wonga and hundreds of companies like it, operate. They will argue it’s all legal. I reckon that makes it more obscene.
Julie should, by all accounts, get a £15million pound payout from his stake in the company. What she doesn’t realise, she’ll have to repay £21million after 30 days.
I was playing around on Google Maps the other day and decided to look at something on Street View.
It’s brilliant the way you can land on the street and I have on occasion, slipped into street view and gone for a five mile walk.
What? I took in the scenery and it gave my finger some exercise. What you frowning for?
However, dropping into street view can be a little hairy sometimes, especially if you are less than accurate where you place yourself. A slip of an inch, and you could find yourself in all sorts of trouble. Take last week, for instance, when I wanted to look at a road near the M6 motorway. I miscalculated and …
Yikes!!!!!
Hope nobody ever invents a teleport and puts me in charge of landings.
I came across a good one the other day.
You know on foodstuffs, there are often allergy notices. For instance – This product may contain nuts. Well, look at what I found this week.
Okay, simple box of a dozen eggs. Free range, too. However, if you look a little closer at the warning inside of the box.
Yes, apparently, it contains egg.
WTF? Of course it contains egg, they’re bloody eggs!!! What did you expect it to contain, peanut butter? It’s an egg. If I buy a carton of eggs, I don’t envisage getting anything else. The people who make up these guidelines – talk about jobsworth. Being that fussy over rules and regulations, they should working as an operator on the chairlift at Dudley Zoo.
Cheers.
Nick
Of course, not a Myspace status because my old Myspace site has gone. Thanks, Timberlake and co. I reported that in my blog the other week. So, one way or another, my old blogs will need to see the light of day again. They will not remain buried in cyber-hell. Therefore, another reminisce is in order and a reprint of some of the classic roasts of old.
I don’t know what it is, but some shops must see me coming. They think I’m the ideal person to pile their rubbish items onto. Take the case of the pack of seven pairs of socks I bought from Matalan last week. Nice, they were, until I tried them on and found the heels halfway up the back of my calves. Now I’m a size 11 and these were actually supposed to cover 8 to 11. However, I think it was more like a 15 or 16. I gave them to my son, David who is an infeasible size 14, and they don’t even fit him. I reckon they were designed for a clown and they should have been sent to the costume shop instead. That’s right, because clowns really do have giant feet, don’t they?
And a 2013 footnote (sorry … bad pun). I recently bought another pair of socks from the same store. 8 to 11 again. Hmmm, my youngest son is wearing these on his size 7 feet, now.
And yes, it was also Matalan.
Why is it that when I go to any clothing retailer, they seem to have every size of jeans conceivable … apart from mine.
I’m a 34/34 (Width/Leg) and no matter how hard I try, my size is never there. Does this mean that it is the most popular and I am basically generic?
And another footnote. Matalan still have no jeans in my size.
I got into an argument at a petrol station the other day when some impatient bastard tried telling me to hurry up. I can’t help it. I’m OCD. I have to get the litres on the dial exactly on the .00. You see, 51.00 litres – Great. 50.99 or 51.01 … No no no no noooo! Can’t be doing with that.
I had the last laugh on this one, though as the guy moaned so much about how long I was taking, it distracted me and I went over by .02 of a litre … so I had to start slowly again until I rounded off at the next one.
Awkward – Me?
Crikey. I filled up today and this time it was me moaning about somebody taking too long. Oh well.
This was my tale that week regarding a trip to the dentist.
Oh well, another week over and I made the mistake of checking the calender. No!
I have to go to the Dentist tomorrow. It’s only for a routine check up but I just know there will be treatment to be had.
I never had a problem with the dentist before but in recent years as I get older, I find it increasingly traumatic. I lie there tensed up and just want to get out of the place. I think it’s because I no longer trust my dentist. You see, he is the same both Ex-Wife and Myself used to see when we were married, and still do, only separately now. I don’t know if he’s heard some untrue nonsense or if he has just taken her side, but I certainly seem to get rough treatment these days. The fact he is called Mr Carver is equally disturbing.
The thing that gets me at Dentists is the numbness after the anesthetic. I hate it. The first thing I want to do when I got home is have a drink, even though I know it will be the ritual of drinking sideways in case it runs down my face. I remember a time when I had both sides frozen. Now that was fun.
So, tomorrow, if I have to have the needle, I will endure a dribbling mouth and then try to use lip balm without realising I’m actually applying it to my cheeks. Still, at least after a few hours, I can have a cup of soup which tastes of chicken and dental residue
Perhaps I shouldn’t open that big block of toffee, though.
Back to 2013 … and I checked the calendar. Wednesday 28 August. 0830. Guess where I’m going?
Cheers.
Nick
I thought I’d comment this week on things I’d seen on TV, whether they be programmes or news articles. With that in mind, this is something I saw on a satellite channel so inconsequential, I cannot even recall which one it was.
Pop boy, Justin Bieber was in the papers yet again this week. Photos have emerged of him last Thanksgiving where he serenaded his grandmother, stark naked, bar a guitar in front of his manhood.
I was shocked by the pictures. Justin Bieber can play the guitar???
Actually, there is something disturbing about a 19-year-old being naked in front of his grandmother. Weird, or what?
No, Justin, that’s not what we meant by wearing nothing but a g-string.
I watched pot luck game show, Deal or No Deal this week and was fortunate enough to see the first male winner of the top prize in eight years. Seemed a nice lad, only eighteen. However … did you see his ears?
Yes, that’s him, sporting this bizarre craze of having ear stretchers.
WTF?
Why … why would anybody want to do that?
Having massive rings put in your earlobes which over time, stretch them into a massive imitation polo mint.
I can never understand tattoos, but this goes further.
Are people that desperate to have somewhere to store their coat hangers? At least that guy off Deal or No Deal can now afford to buy a wardrobe.
I happened to tune in the other day and caught a celebrity edition of the show. Now … you may have got an inkling over these blogs, I’m not too fond of celebrities and all the rubbish which surrounds them and the media insistence that we should be obsessed with their lives. However, on this celebrity Deal, I was pleasantly surprised to learn just how nice Olly Murs is.
Okay, I wouldn’t know any of his songs if he screamed them down my ear, and I will probably never listen to him, but he seems a pretty decent sort.
Talking of TV shows, can anybody explain the bloody rules of Take on The Twisters, because I’d really like to know. Arrrggh!
I miss the beginning every time and never get the explanation of the rules (if they even do so). I understand the questions bit, but what the hell is that with these bleeding circles? I can see I’m going to have to look it up on Wikipedia as it is currently making me very angry every time I see it.
Okay, there really wasn’t any other heading I could put to tell of the incident where Labour leader, Ed Milliband was pelted with eggs the other day.
He was doing a walkabout when suddenly, this guy lobbed the fowl articles at him. Still, no harm was done and Ed seemed to take the yoke in good humour. I still think the man who flung them was a bit of a prat, though. If you’re going to commit a crime, don’t wear a high visibility jacket when doing it.
I bet he wouldn’t have been so brave had it been John Prescott in town. Funniest moment of the 2001 election campaign was when some guy pelted Prescott only for the minister to show his former boxing prowess and give the offending idiot a damn good right hook.
I can’t recall if either were ever charged, though the thrower should have faced prosecution for being in possession of the worst mullet hairstyle this side of the 1980s.
See you all next week.
Cheers.
Nick
As some will know, before antonynbritt.com, I was a prolific user of Myspace. Now when I say Myspace, I don’t mean the second-rate music streaming service they have now. I’m referring to the days when Myspace gave you what was equal to a ready made website. Here, you could customise it to your desires, fill it with photographs and most important … post blogs.
I was a regular user from 2006 to 2010, a time when I posted over 400 blogs, gaining 100,000 page views and thousands of comments. I regularly topped the Myspace blog charts for the UK but Myspace was more than a blogging platform to me, it was a community.
You had groups, a network of friends, all which formed an integral part of the online family.
Unfortunately, these are now gone.
What happened was the incompetent mismanagement at the hands of the owners – Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation. People left in millions, departing to the more friendly Facebook as Myspace committed suicide. Groups were shut down, users had their profiles forcibly changed and the entire site became a pain to use. My once, pastel blue customised blog was now a generic white with no scope for formatting, the same as everybody else. Not that it mattered. Nobody was still around to read it, anyway.
I continued blogging on Myspace until September 2011. By then, the company was in the hands of pop star Justin Timberlake, a man intent on inflicting masses of streamed music of the banal kind he produces. He was not interested in blogs, nor cared that millions worldwide once lived within the Myspace community.
Users were unimportant … so he killed them.
After setting up this site, I still stepped back for a visit at least once a week, but it was hard seeing the neglect. Pages taking an age to navigate, and much content lost. You could tell the owners didn’t give a damn.
First to go were many of the photos on my blogs, thus rendering the text useless when referring to the pics. At some point last year, all the lovely comments I had received over the years, vanished. Then, in June 2013, Timberlake and co desecrated the grave.
A new Myspace had been launched, but most of the old users still wanted the classic Myspace. They were not interested in the music streaming site Timberlake was forcing on them. If they had wanted it, they would have gone to a half decent one. Still, on June 13, it was reported the entire classic Myspace had gone. Millions of blogs and photos – lost. Also, emails and comments, many of whom were from people now dead, were wiped.
Do they still exist? It was reported that new Myspace were asking users to vote if they wanted them back. How condescending. Complaints flooded in their thousands but the more vociferous ones resulted in simply having their new profiles removed.
What is sad is that I met so many good friends on there. Some have found me, but many will be gone forever. I can think of a number of lovely people from Myspace who have since died. While their blogs were still visible, my friends were so alive. Now, Myspace has trod on and killed them all over again.
Thank you, Timberlake and Myspace. You have pissed on the graves of millions.
Shame on you.
Nick
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
I had ordered a tool to help my son dismantle cabinets at his old flat. It arrived the other day. See …
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?
Open the box. Hmmmmm. What tool would warrant all this loose packing inside. Must be something extremely fragile. Shall we press on?
Wait! Is the item in that plastic bag. What the hell?
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.
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.
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 …
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?
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.
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.
Hope to see you next week. Hope I’ll be here. Perhaps.
Cheers.
Nick
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.
The Sunday Roast that week, like now, was done while watching England play Australia in 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.
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.
Talk about inappropriate to use during an epidemic, though.
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?
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.
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.
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!
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.
Mmmmm, that was nice (he says sarcastically). Why don’t I try yoghurt on toast next time to go with it?
Hope you enjoy these old Myspace blogs. I like to let them live again, seeing as Myspace are intent on obliterating them.
Cheers.
Nick
I have been quiet of late due to circumstances. However, I do have another short story available in an anthology titled – The Dark Bard.
Published by Indigo Mosaic, the Dark Bard is a storyteller, weaving tales of the human and inhuman who walk on the edge of darkness. Come and enter into his storytelling world.
Parting Company is the first full tale in the book and by clicking the link, you can purchase a copy and read samples.
Buy/read sample of Dark Bard by clicking this link.
Cheers.
Nick
You may have noticed there wasn’t a roast last Sunday. That was because I was away at my sisters caravan, enjoying the delights of Aberystwyth.
And it was lovely. Never been before and I can recommend it for a nice quiet break. I mean, it’s so tranquil and one would hope that even in my calamitous life, I could go a whole weekend without finding something stupid to write about.
Okay … you’d be wrong.
Now I have to say, Aberaeron is also lovely. However, it seems it is a little more upmarket than most places I am used to.
I’ll say. I’m live in crappy Walsall, a town filled with money lenders and pound shops like this.
However, to be fair, Aberaeron also has its pound shops … or rather they used to.
This is a picture taken a year or so back. A discount shop in Aberaeron – The Famous £1 Store.
Nothing wrong in that, however it seems the times are hard and inflation has caught up with Aberaeron. See …
So the £1 shop has felt the chancellor’s penny pinching and is now hiked up to a famous £1.20 shop. Famous for what … being the first discount store to whack up the prices?
And it wasn’t just that shop. Now I’m not normally one to complain (stop laughing), but £4.05 is by far the most money I have ever paid for a whippy ice cream, courtesy of The Hive in Aberaeron.
Four pound bloody five pence! Where did they ship the ice from … Antarctica?
Still, a blip on a perfect weekend. Just the one so far …
Borth is a dead town, and I mean – of graveyard proportions. If Borth had been a living being, it would now be a zombie, forced to walk the earth pretending it was still alive.
I won’t name and shame the gift shop because at least they tried. However, at the back of a row of tacky ceramic dogs, my curiosity was aroused by this …
Garden Centre? But we were only in a tiny shop. I know, perhaps there was a huge expanse of shrubbery, decking and garden ornaments to choose from.
Okay, maybe not. Quite the worst garden centre in the world.
Walking past dated slot machines, I was disturbed by the overwhelming smell of petrol which seemed to permeate the air. Then as I traversed the entire twelve yards of the fun feast, I came across the grab machine with the least chance ever of winning a toy.
Borth even has its own tourist information centre. I should have popped in. Do they know something I don’t?
So we left Aberystwyth and headed home. However, wanting to prolong the holiday, we thought it would be nice to stop and have a drink at a quaint little place on the Welshpool Light Railway. Namely, Llanfair Caereinion.
Well, it would have been quaint had it not been for the most unfriendliest and unhelpful attendant ever encountered behind the counter of a coffee bar. Talk about looking on us as though we’d walked in from a dung heap. I know it was the hottest day of the year, but there was no need to substitute the air conditioning with a frosty reception such as that.
You’d think we’d asked a monumental favour by wanting milk in our coffee. The face on her when it ran out and she had to get some more!
There she is, blurred in the distance. The one with the white hair. The photo is of such a poor quality because (a) I was taking it in a clandestine manner and (b) I don’t want her to sue me.
So that’s about it. My nice weekend away. But still on the subject of Llanfair Caereinion, I took this photo of a signpost outside the railway station. The middle sign is pointing saying , Railway Station.
Talk about stating the bleeding obvious – having the sign say where the station is when it is so obviously twenty feet over the road.
Cheers.
Nick
Been extremely busy recently. Haven’t had much time for writing but I thought today, I’d focus on a few things observed during the past few weeks.
In all the madness of a hectic life, I don’t think I have spoken about the time I had in London when I went to see Green Day at the Arsenal Emirates Stadium in June.
The gig was fantastic. Billie Joe Armstrong is a Svengali. If he told me to dive into the crowd and surf, I would.
You can just about see the band on this pic, but in my defence, has anybody ever taken a good picture at a concert?
As I say, fantastic day, but I wish I could say the same about the eating options courtesy of Arsenal Football Club.
Now you know me and food places, if there is crap to be had, I will find it. Travelling a fair distance and wanting to get to our seats as quickly as possible, I thought we’d sample the stadium cuisine. What an idiot I was. You see Arsenal offer a choice of pizza slices, spicy chicken and … er, that’s it. They didn’t even have chips! What sort of bloody eating establishment doesn’t do chips? Jacket Potatoes, pies? No, just cardboard pizza and (very) spicy chicken.
Arsenal are one of the top Premier League football clubs. However their food is pretty much Non-League.
After the concert, starving with sore throats due to singing along to Green Day, plus too much spicy chicken, we found a McDonald’s in Harringay. Yes, I know it was late but you’d think they’d clear the tables of leftover meals.
Yes, I know it’s blurred, as were my eyes after a long day. However, the picture tells the story. It was disgusting. Not a single empty table without half-eaten burgers of cartons everywhere.
Next time I have a day out in London for a concert at a football stadium, I think I’ll take sandwiches.
Saw an advert for a new CD. Eddie Stobart Trucking Songs. I never knew Eddie Stobart was in rock band. Oh, I see, they are just using the name to sell CDs.
Now if you’ve read some of my more recent roasts, you will know I have a thing about truck drivers and in particular, how they drive on the motorway, taking half an hour to overtake another truck while holding up all of the traffic.
Yes, I know I’ve used that shot a lot recently, but it tells the story.
Still, what songs could a truck driving themed CD consist of?
Anything by the 70s group, Middle of the Road.
Drive Slow – Kanye West
Stuck in the Middle with You – Steelers Wheel.
Road Rage – Catatonia
The album, Learning to Crawl – The Pretenders.
Any more that poeple can think of? I think I’ll stick to my playlist, plus hoot my horn if lorry drivers continue to drive like morons.
I had the misfortune to have to go to the cinema recently to see Fast and Furious 6. Now, I admit, it wasn’t my sort of film and I knew this from the off, but I had no choice in what I went to see.
Not only do car chases bore me, I hadn’t seen Fast and Furious 1-5. I like something more in my cinema entertainment, that special ingredient in a film. Namely, a plot.
Take away the high speed chases in Fast and Furious 6 and you’re left with ten minutes. Mind you, easy job for the actors. Let’s face it … not much script to learn.
The whole thing was ridiculous and nothing more so than the final chase. As the baddies are trying to take off on a huge plane, our heroes are after them on the longest runway known to man. I’m not sure how fast a plane has to be to achieve take off but the chase took over fifteen minutes. Therefore, I reckon they’d need a fifty mile runway to make good what the screen portrayed.
What a rubbish trip to the pictures. They don’t make films like Gandhi any more.
Or do they?
I don’t know where the days go. As soon as I press click to post this, it will be time to do it all over again. I’m sure as you get older, you lose ten minutes from every hour.
Cheers.
Nick
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