I came into contact with three spiders today – not nice at all.
The first was found early this morning when I was moving an item of clothing. I am not ashamed to admit that I let out a pitiful, high pitched scream and threw the garment across the room. The spider ran off in a panic, but it’s escape, and life, were thwarted by the sole of my shoe.
On my arrival to work, my “Spider Sensors” were also tingling when someone brought around a beast they had caught in a glass. All I saw were the big, black hairy legs, and I felt like vomiting. I ran away to hide and did not return until it had been released far, far away from the office.
My final encounter was the most close, but luckily the least scary. I found a spider crawling on my shirt! If this were to happen with any normal spider, I would have emptied the contents of my bowels and fainted with fear – luckily this spider was only a baby. I removed it from my clothing, and even let him live. I hope he remembers this when he’s a big legged bastard, and doesn’t come after me while hunting!
Well, the BBC failed to meet my demands and send me my IMP login details. Because of this, Terry Wogan will be locked up in my basement and not released until January 2008 – that’s right Mr. Beeb, you’ll have to find someone else to do Aunties Christmas Bloomers.
I did however get access to iPlayer, using a rogue account given to me by my “dodgy friend” – you know the type, everyone has one – the mate who is always downloading & uploading illegal files over the net, takes the odd recreational drug, rides his bike on the pavement, and could probably get someone killed if you asked him very nicely. For animosity, I’ll refer to him as “Whitey” – or Jon for short.
Anyway, iPlayer is now installed and I am downloading last Thursday’s edition of Mock the Week. It is an extremely slow process. I had to check my computer to make sure I hadn’t inadvertently connected to the internet using my 56k modem.
For a company who forces all UK residents to pay them in excess of £100 a year, I would have thought the BBC would have come up with something at least half decent, and not this piece of crap which resembles a college student’s attempt of an illegal peer to peer application. Channel 4’s service, 4od is much better.
Now listen here BBC! If you don’t sort this out, I will have to take matters into my own hands again! I will kidnap another one of your “much loved” personalities. I did actually plan on taking Mike Reid hostage, but that kind of backfired on Sunday. If IMP is not working to my liking by Friday morning, I will kidnap JONATHAN ROSS – who’s going to present your Friday evening show now? MwaHaHaHaHa!
While enjoying a farewell breakfast in the local café with Dan, something rather amusing took our attention.
In from the rain walked a young family – husband, wife and their two ginger children. Their mood had obviously been affected by the weather, and they took the dark atmosphere into the café.
– Child #1 wants to sit outside in the rain.
– Child #2 begins to have a tantrum as she wants a seat inside where it’s dry.
– Father tries to calm the children down.
– Mother snaps at father, who retaliates by saying “OK, how about I sit outside in the rain by myself?”
– Mother then has enough and suggests they all leave the café and go home.
– Father, pissed off and in desperate need of an espresso, turns his anger to Child #2 and accuses her of ruining the family day out.
– There is then a massive debate about who wants to eat/drink what.
– Family eventually decide to stay. They order their food and take their seats.
– Within 30 seconds, Father starts moaning “This café could at least have the Sunday papers!”… The truth being, the café did buy the Sunday papers. Dan thought he would help himself to them, hide them in his rucksack to read on the train journey back to London.
You had to feel for the parents. They looked young, in their 30’s, but it was clear they were aging prematurely – and fast. I suppose looking after two annoying, whinging ginger kids is enough to make anyone bald, grey and wrinkly. The puzzling thing was, both parents were not ginger, so why did they end up with a pair of auburn kids – how unlucky is that!!??
Dan made the trip from London to his hometown of Bath this weekend. He turned up at my flat yesterday afternoon, rather sodden from the rain, and demanding we make an immediate trip to a local café so he could buy himself a (late) breakfast.
After eating a rather strange looking sandwich, Dan returned to my flat, where he did what he has always done best – sitting on the sofa, drinking coffee while watching someone else play video games.
He demanded I play Gears of War. I don’t normally play this game, mainly because I am shit at it, but also as I become frustrated and angry when I get brutally slaughtered with chainsaws. Yesterday was different though. I entered a random session and stumbled across some young player who was more than happy to show me how to play. Dan seemed pleased, but like some of the international players in the session, became rather troubled by the behaviour of my team mate and I – both using excessively foul language “fuckin’ cuntin’ baaastards”, etc…
Mr. Watkins then came round for his weekly visit, and took us to Nandos in town. It seemed like we spent two hours in the Portuguese restaurant, half of which was waiting for Simon to finish his shift at Sainsbury’s. In which time, Dan ate his way through enough chicken to populate a barn at a Bernard Matthews farm. A waiter asked us to change tables halfway through our meal – a large party wanted to sit in the area we were eating – “large” being the operative word. The party of fatties reminded me of a family of elephants (“They’re moving in herds. They do move in herds”). Anyway, I moved without complaining, mainly because I was offered a free drink for my troubles – never say “No” to a free bottle of cider (unless it’s White Lightning).
After eating, Dan and Simon returned to my flat to play Bomberman. Basically, the typical Saturday I always have, but with the presence of Dan.
Last night Simon and I went to Watkins’ house in Wells. We spent the evening having a few beers, a curry and playing a bit of Bomberman. A good night – thank you Mr. Watkins.
Today he showed Simon and me around his hometown of Wells, including many of the locations used in the film Hot Fuzz.
We then returned to Bath where we spent a ridiculously hot afternoon in the park, enjoying sandwiches and drinks bought from the new coffee shop which has recently opened near to where I live. An enjoyable weekend, if not a little hot.
Here’s some pictures of Wells and Hot Fuzz.
Firstly, the high street – seen throughout the film
The exterior of Somerfield. There was a different location for the inside shots.
The church where Tim Messenger (Adam Buxton) met his fate
The corner shop – they really do sell Cornettos!
The pub. Nuff said.
Just an ordinary lane? Look closer…
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
