Marco van Bastard (feat. Rita Ora)

In the Euro 88 group stage, England lost to the Netherlands 3-1. I don't remember too many details of the game. What I do remember is that the game kicked off around tea time, soon after I finished school. We had beef, gravy and vegetables for tea. I am certain that my mum had cooked the food well in advance and just reheated it because the gravy was lumpy and a bit jelly-like, which was always a give-away of such a culinary shortcut. Also the plate was the same temperature as the food from having been in the microwave at the same time.

My other memory from this game, which I don't know is true or not, is that the headline on the back of The Sun newspaper the next day was "Van Bastard". (Marco van Basten had scored all 3 goals for Holland in their victory.) I want to believe it's true, but I can find no evidence of it other than in my head. Which is good enough for me to tell people it's true.

Featuring Wiz Khalifa

Looking at the world around me, I fear that I'm the last man alive to have never done anything featuring Wiz Khalifa, Rita Ora or Pitbull.

How did I let his happen? Am I so far out of touch, out of the loop of modern pop culture?

I spoke to Wiz about it and he was horrified. He has agreed to do a guest rap just below.

Word on the street is bloggin' is the shit

'Bout hustlin' and talkin' shit

Bunch of pussy n*ggas gon' get clipped

Mark my man gon' kill this shit

Rita Ora will be appearing in my next post, looking sexy but not doing much else. I've had no contact with Pitbull. I'm sure he'd be up for something though if I asked him.

2015 Staycation

Today is the last day of my three week staycation. If I'm being honest, I've done very little during my break.

The highlight was perhaps seeing a John O'Shea lookalike standing outside of Argos. He was smoking an electronic cigarette. I don't think it was the real John O'Shea.

Other than that, I did a lot of sorting out, getting rid of stuff mainly, like clothes and my old PS3 disc games. I played on my new Xbox One quite a bit. Which was nice.

I went out for a meal and drinks with people from work. It was boring and the food was bad. I won't be doing it again. Though I'm getting made redundant soon so it's not something I really need to worry about.

I managed to watch one film on Netflix. Species III. It wasn't very good.

Overall then, not the most exciting holiday I've ever had. Prolly the worst. Oh yeah, I've been using the word prolly a lot lately instead of probably. That's something at least.

Drinks Are On Me!

I saw the world's most expensive bottle of Champagne once.

It was during a tour at the Piper-Heidsieck Champagne house in Reims. The tour involved riding a cart in some underground tunnels. I don't remember too much, mainly that we were told that the tunnels had been used by the French Resistance during WW2.

The big finish of the tour was a glimpse of the aforementioned bottle. It looked like a normal bottle of Champagne, but one covered in diamonds. It was then followed by pictures of celebrities drinking glasses of Champagne. The only one I remember is Jack Nicholson. This was 1995. I don't know if a more expensive bottle of Champagne has been produced since then.

Putting diamonds on things seemed like a bit of a trend in the 90s. Joe Bloggs (remember them?) produced the world's most expensive pair of jeans back then, which too, were just a normal pair of jeans, but covered in diamonds.

Snoop Dogg

Not a lot of people know this, but I am close personal friends with celebrity rapper Snoop Dogg. We coach a little league baseball team together. I say we coach the team together, but really, Snoop's the coach and I'm his assistant. Snoop owns his own clipboard and whistle, I own neither. That guarantees Snoop the head coach role over me. I'm hoping to get my own clipboard for Christmas, and maybe a whistle next birthday. By then though, Snoop will probably have his own polo shirt and baseball cap with the word "coach" on them, making him virtually unassailable as the main man.

For now, I'm happy being Snoop's assistant and enforcer. The bad cop to Snoop's good cop. If any kids need telling off, that's for me to do. Any opposition team's parents need abusing, that's me. Snoop motivates and sets tactics, I make sure everyone understands and follows.

I've learned many things during my time with Snoop. Like what "little league" is. And what "baseball" is. They're probably the main two things. I hope to learn more though. I've always fancied throwing down in some rap battles. Snoop could help me with that. And who knows, maybe one day I'll get to be head coach of my own team. My experience with Snoop will be invaluable.

It Was 18 Years Ago Today

Kids in the UK got their A-Level results yesterday (apart from Scotland maybe, I think they have a different school system); I got mine this day in 1996, a day before my 18th birthday.

The gang (John, Paul, George and Ringo) and I had previously arranged to go to school to get our results dressed in old suits, preferably 1970s-style in weird colours and with big collars. On the day, only John actually did it. He wasn't too pleased when we all turned up at his house wearing normal clothes and he looked like Jason King.

We went to school and got our results. We all got what we needed to get to the universities we had applied for, apart from Ringo, but he got the grades to get to his second/reserve choice. I got two As, a C and a D (30 UCAS points). I only needed 16 points. We saw some other friends too and everyone was pretty happy with their results as far as I can remember.

We then went to George's house for drinks. His parents were on holiday in France. Without him. We raided their drinks cabinet, but all there was was Tia Maria. We drank the bottle anyway. Feeling invigorated, we ventured on to everyone else's houses to tell our parents the results.

We then headed into town to continue the drinking at our usual haunts. We expected to see the rest of our school year out having a good time too, but we didn't see any of them for the rest of the day. I don't know what they were doing. Losers. One person we did see was one of the younger teachers (let's call her Miss Moneypenny) from our school, who had taught John, Paul and George. We ended up hanging out with her for a few hours. Miss Moneypenny bought us all drinks and shared her menthol cigarettes with us, though none of us normally smoked.

One of my uncles had recently taken over a pub and had started a cricket team, for which I played. The team had a match that day at 6pm (at Leek Hockey Club). So, at around 5.45pm, we said goodbye to Miss Moneypenny and left the pub. We had been there since about 1.30pm. It became apparent as we got outside that we were all pretty wasted, but isn't that always the way?

John decided to come with me to the match, Paul, George and Ringo all went home. John and I reached Leek Hockey Club late, a bit after 6pm. It turned out we only had nine players, which included me (very drunk) and my uncle, who had recently been in an accident and had his left arm in plaster. I asked my uncle if John could play to make up the numbers. I turned around to see if John was up for it but he was lying on the floor, either passed out or asleep. We just left him there.

Our team was batting, so I had a bit of time to sober up. Though, as it turned out, not much time, as we soon slumped to 15 for 7 wickets. I got the pads off the previously dismissed batsman (we only had two pairs) and made my way to the middle.

I'm more of a bowler than a batsman. My approach to batting is to defend anything straight and slog at anything wide. First ball I got was wide of off stump so I had a big heave at it. I sliced it a fair distance and we managed 2 runs. If I hadn't been drunk we could have easily got 3, maybe 4. Second ball up was much the same, though I got a weaker connection and we only managed to get 1 run. My uncle was now on strike, batting one handed. The next ball went through his feeble defences and knocked the stumps over. We were 18 all out. I top scored with 3 not out.

We decided not to have a mid-innings break and carried straight on with the match. I was sent to field on the boundary, which was a wire fence to keep animals out of the hockey club's cricket and hockey pitches. Almost immediately, I threw up, though I did manage to put my head over the wire fence as I did it, so as not to sully the outfield. The menthol cigarettes left a strong aftertaste, which covered the usual vomity taste but gave a different and just as bad sensation. The ball did get hit towards me a couple of times and I managed to field the ball OK. The other team only needed three overs to reach the target score. I think I threw up three times too.

The normal practise after matches was to head back to my uncle's pub for drinks and sandwiches, but I decided to go home. We woke John up. Someone gave us a lift back to my house in the trailer on the back of their car. John said he would be OK to walk home, so we said goodbye. I went to bed to sleep.

I was woken at about 9pm by George, who had come around with some cans of beer. I felt much better after my sleep, though I could still taste the menthol cigarettes. We had a couple of beers and talked. I don't remember what about, but it was a nice low-key end to a crazy day, which had been a memorable end to my adolescence.

Nicknames

I've never really had any nicknames. I got called "Mulder" for a while in the sixth form (some people thought I looked a bit like Mulder from The X-Files, rather than supermodel Karen Mulder) but that didn't last, apart from one guy (let's call him Kenny Loggins) who would say stuff like "How's Scully?" to me about 5 years after we had finished school, and about 6 years after anyone else ever referenced it. Kenny Loggins had form in this area, as he kept calling one of my friends Derek Terrence (a brief nickname at first school) right through to high school when no-one else could even remember (a) that we'd ever called him Derek Terrence, and (b) why we had ever called him Derek Terrence.

The best nickname I've EVER known anyone to have had was "Two Mouth". This was at high school. Two Mouth was so called because he had a scar across his chin that looked like a sealed up second mouth. Two Mouth also happened to be quite an angry young man, so much so that his other, more commonly used nickname was Vinnie (as in violent, nutcase, testes-grabbing footballer Vinnie Jones). Though you could believe that he would need a second mouth to spout the angry words and views of which he held plenty, which is why I preferred Two Mouth.

Perhaps the worst nickname I've ever come across, and the one I'd want the least, was "Bates". This started at first school for the person involved. Bates's previous nickname was "Skeletor", so I don't know if Bates was an improvement or not. The way I remember it, someone asked him if he knew what "masturbate" was. He lied and said yes (as you always did at first school if someone asked you what something obviously grown up and naughty meant), only for him then to become known as "Masturbates" (or "Master Bates"), then later shortened to just "Bates". By the time we finished high school some 10 years or so later, Bates was still called Bates.

I've not met Two Mouth or Bates in the 18 years since I finished high school and have no idea where they are now or what they are doing with their lives. I don't know if I did see them again if I should still call them "Two Mouth" or "Bates"; I don't know what the statute of limitations on nicknames is but it's probably a lot less than 18 years. I don't know how they feel about the nicknames of their youth; Bates seemed to embrace his at the time whereas Two Mouth tried to insist that people called him Vinnie, sometimes quite violently. I'll probably just call them "Man" or "Dude" if I do run into them.

New Year's Resolution

You literally can't move right now for people making New Year's resolutions. Literally. And as we all know, everyone will stick to those resolutions.

My own resolution was going to be to live a more interesting life this year, but I know that won't happen. Instead, I am going to steal other people's anecdotes and life stories to make my life seem more interesting.

Yeah, this is morally wrong, probably, and dishonest, but it's a lot easier than actually doing anything. And I'm nothing if not consistently lazy. I know my strengths.

I will have to take care not to tell people their own anecdotes, that's probably the main danger of my resolution, especially if they are those people's "classic" anecdotes, like my friend and the time he stood next to Andy/Andrew Cole at a nightclub toilet or my uncle who saw a former cast member from Coronation Street drunk and shouting abuse at people in Stoke city centre (she was doing panto in Stoke at the time).

With this resolution and an army anecdotes at my disposal, I shall surely become the most interesting, and sexy, person anyone in my life will know. No bad can possibly come from this.

Adventure Time

The big adventure of my week was my trip to Tesco in Hanley, a magical place filled with wonder and excitement. And tinned foods.

Lost in a myriad of aisles, like pews in a church of capitalism, I ventured forth, purchasing foodstuffs and snacks. Which you probably can't do in a church, though I may be wrong, and often am. I wasn't ready to go into the clothing section or opticians and don't know if I ever will be. That was a step too far.

The temple of doom

Some people seemed to find it hard to grasp the concept of a "baskets only" checkout. In front of me in that queue were two different women with fairly full trollies, certainly containing more than you can fit into a basket. The checkout woman still served them. I don't know why. I would have let them get to the counter then told them to go a checkout that takes trollies.

The woman directly in front of me in the queue purchased four items: vodka, wine, paracetamol, ibuprofen. Now there's a woman who knows what she wants.

I paid for my items in cash. As I left the store, rays of sun hit me, waking me to the reality of the real world. I went back to work, my adventure now just a memory to use when I'm short on ideas for blog posts.

Highlight Of The Week

My highlight of this past week was definitely seeing a drunk guy get arrested on the bus.

It's not the first time I've ever seen police officers get on a bus I've been on (that's another story for another time) but was the briefest.

It started when some drunk guy (whom I shall call Frank Sinatra) got on the bus and loudly asked the driver if he'd let him on for free as he'd lost his wallet. After some badgering, the driver let him on, for which the drunk guy thanked him loudly and repeatedly as the bus pulled away.

A couple of minutes later, the bus pulled over at a stop at which no-one was waiting. The bus waited for a few minutes until a police car arrived. The driver had obviously called it in, rather sneakily.

Two police officers got on the bus and arrested Frank Sinatra. He put up a struggle for a few seconds then accepted his fate. He was arrested for criminal damage, something he must have done (if he did - innocent until proven guilty and all that) before he got on the bus. He didn't say anything to the driver who had turned him in as he was marched off.

The bus pulled away and no-one on the fairly full bus said anything. I don't know what happened to Frank Sinatra and I won't be following the local court news to find out. In my imagination, he'll break out of the police station and go on the rampage around Stoke, killing thousands of innocent civilians. I'll be able to tell my story on the inevitable documentary that will be on Channel Five.

Hulk Hogan Germany

In Germany on the school exchange programme, one of my friends, who I will call Kenny Rogers, went to a birthday party with his German exchange partner. Sadly, my exchange partner Felix wasn't invited so I didn't get to go. Entertainment at the party was not a magician, nor someone making balloon animals. No, there was a German Hulk Hogan lookalike, who operated under the name Hulk Hogan Germany. And not Hulk Hogan Deutschland as you might expect.

I don't know if Hulk Hogan Germany was an officially licensed lookalike. Or if such a thing exists. Kenny Rogers never asked; it would almost certainly have been my first question had I been there. Yes or no, my response would have been "Awesome" in a Beavis and Butt-Head stylee. My second question would have asked why isn't he called Hulk Hogan Deutschland.

I don't know if Hulk Hogan Germany was a body builder anyway, and someone said to him one day, "Hey, you kinda look like Hulk Hogan," or if he bulked himself up to look like Hulk. I don't know if he was bald either, or shaved his head to look bald (now that would be commitment), or just never took off the bandana so you can't tell. There are more questions than answers here, that's for sure, and Kenny Rogers has never given me adequate responses to my many requests for informaton. If I ever get a time machine, going back and getting answers to these questions will be a priority.

Ninja Turtles In Trouble?

Is Ninja Turtle Michelangelo being led astray by his Hollywood mates?

"He just parties all the time," said someone I just made up. "He is known as a 'party dude' but he's gone too far and is neglecting his duties as a Ninja Turtle."

Introducing The Band

Towards the end of high school, before we all went our separate ways in life, my friends (who I shall call John, Paul, George and Ringo) and I decided that we needed to form a band.

The fact that none of us could play any instruments was going to hold us back. I had a guitar, and one of my friends had a younger brother who had three guitars and a drum kit, which worked out perfectly as there were five of us, although we were a bit guitar heavy. As Ringo was the member of our "gang" we always picked on and made him do the things no-one else wanted to do, we made him the drummer.

Much time we spent together as a band that summer, mainly arguing over what the band's name should be. I wanted the band to have no name, so that we could be the ultimate non-conformists. No-one agreed with me. John and Ringo wanted the band to be called "Meat and Four Veg", Paul wanted us to be called "The Ascent" and George wanted "The Hill Street Gang". Paul relented and backed me as he preferred no name to "Meat and Four Veg" but George refused to back down, leading to deadlock and the band officially having no name. Which is what I wanted anyway. John and Ringo still insisted on telling people we were called "Meat and Four Veg".

Our jam sessions consisted of us all being together, playing what we wanted, when and how we wanted. As none of could play, the usual constraints of music, like chords or melody, didn't apply to us, so we could create improvised, free-form rock epics. Or just all individually play what we wanted until we got bored.

And what happened to the rest of my band? Well, they only went onto become known as Oasis, you might have heard of them… not really, none of them ever picked up an instrument again and now have assorted middle class jobs that pay them too much money.

The Toad

"Lick me," said the toad.

"No way," I said.

"Go on, you know you want to."

"Why would I want to lick a toad?" I asked.

"I've got hallucinogenic effects when licked," boasted the toad.

"I don't want to hallucinate," I said. "I've got to get to work."

"C'mon," begged the toad.

"I'm not licking you and that's the end of it," I said.



"Lick me."

And with that, I stepped onto the hovercraft to make my way to work.

"You don't know what you're missing," shouted the toad as the hovercraft moved off.

Sherlock

Watching the excellent 'Sherlock' on BBC One recently reminds me of the time I was 'talk of the town' for solving a murder.

I was doing work experience with Staffordshire Police in 199X and they let me go to murder scenes, mainly to make sure there was a plentiful supply of coffee and muffins. After this particular murder, the Police Officers let me go into the drawing room (in the castle where the murder had taken place) where all the suspects were gathered.

"Why don't you have this one," Detective Shanks said to me, patting me on the back. I quickly seized up the supects. Could it be the jealous wife? The mistress? The mistress's husband? The camp butler? I remebered the old saying that "it's always the one you least suspect"...

"The vicar did it," I said, turning and pointing to Reverend Jones, who was standing behind me playing table tennis with a young boy.

"That's ridiculous!" the vicar replied, looking around the drawing room, seeking support. A look of sadness then befell his face. "OK, fair cop guv, you got me..." he said. A look of defiance flashed upon his face. "And I'd do it again if I had to!" he said, shaking his fist in anger.

"Well done, dude," Detective Shanks said to me. Everyone crowded around to congratulate me, hugging me, giving me high-fives. At that moment, I was literally 'the man'. But as this was happening, the vicar climbed through an open window and escaped.

"You'll never take me alive, coppers!" the vicar shouted to us as he sped away on a scooter.

And the vicar was right, the Police never did take him alive. He crashed head on into a hovercraft just minutes later, his pitiful life ended. It took some of the shine off my glory, as far as I was concerned, but made it more exciting for everyone else. It was at that moment I decided solving murders wasn't for me; I would take French at A-Level instead.

SO... YOU'RE PREGNANT

You're a married woman. You do your housework like a good woman should, you visit church like a good christian, and you laid down on your back and opened your legs when you're husband told you to.

The result of this is that you've been paid a visit by the baby fairy. (Not literally.) Our step-by-step guide will make the following nine months be pleasant for your husband, and won't distract him from going to the bar, watching sport on TV or have an affair with his secretary.

* You're married. raising children is your responsibility, not your husband's.

* Make sure your husband isn't a commie. (See our guidance in "SO... YOU THINK YOU KNOW A COMMIE".) If he is, then your child will be also. Visit a government representative who will help you.

* Congratulate your husband on his efficient sperm.

* Switch to Borrow's Pregnancy Cigarettes - they contain more tar and nicotine so that both you and your child won't miss out on some smokey goodness.

* You're eating for two now, so eat twice as much as normal.

* Take it easy at home. Spend longer doing housework so that you can do it more carefully.

* Go to antenatal classes so that your your husband can sleep safely assured that you know about giving birth.

----------

This is public information.

Sponsored by Borrow's Cigarettes.

Facts of the Day: Jeremy Clarkson

Jeremy Clarkson has been in the news a lot of late, offending everyone with his crazy right wing views. As usual. So here are some essential facts about the man.



(1) Jeremy once beat up a robot to prove man is better than machine.

(2) Jeremy once beat a woman at thumb wrestling to prove men are better than women.

(3) Jeremy once tried to fellate himself but got nowhere near.

(4) Jeremy believes that his God is the right one.

(5) Jeremy thinks that gay people aren't as good at driving as he is.

Join Us!

Bullied at school? Did they steal your money, flush your head down the toilet or put things in your pants?

Here's your chance to get some sweet revenge.

Join THE ARMY today and learn how to become a ruthless one man killing machine.

THE ARMY!

Revenge has never been this simple and/or cheap.

C'mon, join us... our numbers are growing.

WARNING: after turning you into a one man killing machine, The Army may callously dump you back, unprepared, into an uncaring and hateful society, like in that film with Sylvester Stallone or something.

Colin Montgomerie Apologises

In a televised statement, golfer Colin Montgomerie has given a public apology for his "grumpy and surly" behaviour, which he admits sometimes includes swear words. "I know I have disappointed a lot of people," said the Scotsman, dressed in dungarees and a bobble hat. "I am sorry for all I have done.

The statement was Montgomerie's first public appearance since November when he crashed a hovercraft outside his home near to Dundee. The came days after it was reported he publicly shouted at a McDonalds employee after she had mistakenly given him a Happy Meal instead of a Big Mac Meal. Reports then came out that he had also been involved in angry shouting matches with a New York club hostess, an actress and a reality TV star.

"I had tantrums, I swore. What I did was wrong, and I am the only person to blame... Although having people shout 'Mrs Doubtfire' at me all the time is pretty annoying."

Montgomerie's appearance at Keele Golf Club's clubhouse was carefully managed. There was an audience of about 18 hand-picked journalists and family members, as well as locals who drifted in from the cold weather outside. Members of the media were not allowed to ask questions, but locals were allowed to shout abuse at Monty so he could show that it doesn't bother him anymore.

Montgomerie read slowly from a prepared statement. He showed control throughout, occasionally bursting into fits of laughter, especially when talking about the Suez Canal Crisis and his good friend Lionel Blair. After finishing speaking, he embraced his mother and other members of the audience, including Jimmy Tarbuck and Ronnie Corbett. Montgomerie thanked his wife for her support. "As Mrs Monty pointed out to me, my grumpiness will not be solved with my words, but with my behaviour."

Colin Montgomerie, yesterday

Montgomerie also announced that he hoped that Raelism would form part of his path to recovery. "I've lost touch with my Raelian roots," he explained. "I haven't worshipped a UFO or alien for years."

The highly managed conditions of the press conference prompted many magazines, including Puzzler and Knave, to boycott the event. Puzzler editor Jim Diesel explained: "We'll still cover the event, but if we're just going to be standing in the room like mongs, we may as well stay at home and watch it on the telly." Former Big Match Live presenter Elton Welsby also criticised the way Monty controlled the news conference. "He might as well have smeared his statement in shit on the clubhouse walls," he said.

Although Montgomerie's wife was not present at the press conference, his mother, Morag Montgomerie, did attend and spoke to reporters. "I am upset at the way the media and fans have treated him over the years, just because he's big and has got 'nan's hair'," Mrs Montgomerie said. "They have treated him like a criminal. He hasn't done anything illegal, he hasn't killed anyone. Apart from the time he did kill someone. But that was self-defence, it happened a long time ago, and he served his time for that."

Monty's statement came during the Povey's Oatcakes Trentham Open Championship. Povey's Oatcakes is among the companies that has ended its sponsorship of the Scot. Povey's Oatcakes spokesman Steve Armstrong did not think that the statement would be a distraction from the tournament.

Although Povey's Oatcakes have ended theis sponsorship of the golfer, other companies, such as Tunstall Assurance and Beswick's Pottery continue to sponsor him. Wright's Pies issued a statement saying that it would stop airing commercials featuring the golfer for a while, but not for too long because Montgomerie, as well as appearing in the company's adverts, is also their best customer and they don't want to annoy him too much.

The Monkey

A monkey lives in the tree near my bedroom window. It jumps across to my roof sometimes and talks to me. "You're an idiot," he says to me often.

He doesn't mean it of course. I'm smarter than the monkey and he knows it. I've got 4 A-Levels. He's got no formal education. "I went to the University of Life," he tells me.

The monkey doesn't like Bon Jovi. "If Jon Bon Jovi came into my tree, and tried to eat my bananas, I'd be like, 'Get Out! Get out of here you MOR mullet-rocker! Or, I'll hurt you! I'll hurt you bad!'"

The monkey also doesn't like moustaches. "I used to live in a tree next to the house of a man whose surname was Beard," explains the monkey. "Except he had a 'tache. I mean, what the fuck?"

Sometimes, the monkey wears clothes. "I was inspired by the PG Tips adverts. I like bowler hats and hot pants."

"Everyone likes hot pants," I reply.