Posted by sean on July 19, 2020 at 4:59 pm in Have I Got News For You, Life In Bath with No Comments

There was an illegal rave in Bath last night.

Judging by the reaction of local residents on social media, this was undoubtedly the biggest event to take place here since Asterix visited the City in 50 BC.

Unsurprisingly, the vast majority have been condemning the rave, with any excitement the result of outrage and not illegal drugs or banging toons.

Some, inevitably, have leapt to the defence of the revellers…

What a tolerant woman. Who would have thought that she lives in BRISTOL, so would not have been affected by the disturbance.

I can also state with total honesty that in my youth, not once did I attend a rave – legal or otherwise. A night in Dan’s damp basement flat, playing multiplayer GoldenEye was my way of a good night. No drums, no bass, no drugs, nothing against the law and back home in bed before midnight.

My sleep wasn’t disturbed by the music, although Claire would be right to point out that had I gone to bed next to the DJ’s speaker, I would have still slept well.

I am pissed off for the tens of thousands of locals who either didn’t sleep as well as me, or live closer to the Upper Swainswick – the site of the rave.

My mum lives very near to that area of Bath and tells me it was awful… although I have my suspicions that she was one of the rave organisers.

I also assume that, as the rave was just a bit of fun, any rubbish generated by the festivities will have all been carefully cleaned up by those who attended. I am sure that the fun-seekers wouldn’t want anyone not responsible to have to clean up their mess.

Then there is the COVID-19 situation. Clearly a rave isn’t the best place to follow social-distancing. If people want to risk their own health and lives for a bit of fun, “it’s their funeral”, as the saying goes.

However, no doubt after a night’s raving and pill-popping, Tyler will visit “Nan” for Sunday roast. Hopefully when passing his grandmother the gravy, he won’t also pass on a killer virus.

It sounds like due to the volume of covidiots, Avon and Somerset Police had trouble shutting down the rave. They should have just asked Mark Corrigan for help…

If I haven’t come across as a grumpy old man yet, I’ll leave you with this question…

How can anyone consider this music? Had I made this racket during a music lesson in school, I would have been given a detention.

Posted by sean on June 20, 2020 at 11:00 am in Life In Bath with No Comments

Over 12 years ago, Claire and I entered into a relationship together which would change our lives forever. Five years ago today, we tied the knot, becoming Mr and Mrs Kitson, in what remains by far the happiest day of my life

During the five years as husband and wife, we have had to overcome what feels like more than our fair share of problems. These issues have primarily related to the decline of my physical health.

Despite these setbacks, Claire has always been at my side. She has always shown me the upmost care, as well as deep, affectionate, unconditional love.

I wouldn’t have been able to get through my physical struggles without Claire at my side. She has shown me love that I believed was only possible in fairytales. The strength of the love I hold for my incredible wife cannot be explained in words. Before meeting her, I wouldn’t have believed that it was possible for anyone to hold any feeling with the level of intensity I feel.

It is my belief that our undying love is what has allowed us to overcome so many of life’s challenges. Along with the fact my wife is simply amazing.

Mrs Claire Kitson – you are so attractive, kind, intelligent and funny. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for everything you do for me and for us. I am sure that we’ll have many more adventures together – hopefully the next few will have a bit more fun and luck involved!

Happy anniversary, beautiful.

I love you.

Posted by sean on April 20, 2020 at 4:45 pm in Life In Bath with No Comments

Twelve years ago yesterday, Bath City took on Sutton United in their penultimate game of the football season.

Sutton were rock bottom of the league and had already been relegated. City knew that by beating the sorry team from Surrey, they would go a long way into securing a place in the playoffs.

It was supposed to be so easy for the Bath players. Just do what they had done most Saturday afternoons since August. Play well and Sutton will be dead and buried by half time. Heck, they’ll be able to take it easy during the second half – saving their energy for those playoffs. After all, we’ll be beating Sutton at least 8-0 by that point.

Oh, if only football was that simple…

I’m sure you can guess what happened. Correct. Bath City lost to Sutton.

There is a purpose behind today’s blog post, and it isn’t just to recall one of the many frustrations I have experienced as a football fan over the years.

Returning back to 2008… on an evening where depressed Bath City supporters returned home to watch Skins, play Gears of War on the XBox 360 and listen to Rihanna, I had a date! A date with a young lady. A date with a young lady who was not made up!

Like me, this young lady had spent the afternoon watching her club, Bath City, do the most predictable thing a football club can do… be unpredictable – especially when it matters most.

I had been casually meeting this girl over the last five or six weeks; the two of us becoming more and more acquainted. Our meeting points would primarily be Bath City games. On a couple of occasions, we would visit The Dolphin pub and enjoy a drink, before crossing the river into BA2.

I was growing increasingly fond of this girl and suspected that she may like me too – not that I can claim to have ever understood women, especially in 2008. For all I knew, this unusual female attention could have all been one cruel joke – something I even asked this girl, when she first rang me to introduce herself some weeks earlier.

In fact, I half expected Jeremy Beadle to appear from the bushes, as soon as the call had ended. Luckily for me this wasn’t a wind-up, and the girl on the phone did not take offence to my disbelief that she was real.

I must have suffered from such low self-esteem! Imagine me thinking that I stood a greater chance of meeting Jeremy Beadle, than a nice girl actually liking me. This is especially depressing when you consider that Jezza had died three months earlier!

I wanted to ask this girl to be my girlfriend. The problem was, that as well as being more than aware that I was not Mr. Universe, I was also a scardy cat – a chicken – a bowl of cowardly custard. If I was going to pop the question, I was going to have to be poked very hard, with an exceptionally large, pointy stick.

Thankfully for me, the football calendar was more than adequate in taking on the role of a metaphorical piece of wood. With the match against Sutton being the final home game of the season, it would potentially be my last encounter with this girl for months.

Sometimes in life, fate can be a cruel beast. In this instance, it was anything but. Had the girl and I began socialising in November (still relatively early into the football season), I would have almost certainly put off any move (remember, I was a wimp). As this was April, I would have to pull my finger out of my arse – thankfully another metaphor.

A romantic date was therefore arranged by yours truly – a meal at a nearby riverside pub, The Boathouse.

We were taken from Bath City’s football ground to the romantic gastropub by horse-drawn carriage. OK, that last bit was a lie – I organised a pre-booked taxi.

It may not have been The Ritz and we certainly hadn’t arrived by chariot, but I must have done something right…

I cannot remember what we ate, but odds-on I would have ordered a chicken dish and a glass of cider. Whatever my date picked would almost certainly have contained goats cheese and been washed down with refreshing Diet Coke.

My proposal to this girl was more fumbled than flamboyant. “You know how I like you”, I nervously began. “… now you don’t have to, if you don’t want” goodness knows what she must have thought I was about to ask, or why she didn’t run all the way home. “how do you feel about being my girlfriend?”.


The girl said “yes”! No zombified Jeremy Beadle appeared from behind the bar. What’s more, is the girl even looked happy that I had asked.

To say that I was also happy would have been somewhat of an understatement. My new lady-friend and I walked back to my flat hand-in-hand.

I had made the same walk from the pub back to my then home many times before. On previous occasions, I had been with Simon, we didn’t hold hands and I would moan to myself at the length of the walk. Returning to my flat with my new girlfriend, went far too quickly. I knew that once we had reached Mr. Gill’s corner shop, we would be forced to bid each other farewell, for this was the spot where my girlfriend’s mum would pick her up.

My new girlfriend and I kissed. Probably badly and awkwardly – we were rather inexperienced. If you would like a better idea of our first kiss, or the date as a whole, watch any episode of The Undateables. The cringeworthy moments shown in the excellent television series, were prevalent throughout our evening.


So, did the relationship between the young woman and I last? Well, she is no longer my girlfriend. We would hold daily phone calls, many lasting for hours – these are now a thing of the past.

There is a good reason for this. The girlfriend in this story is called Claire. The reason why we are no longer girlfriend and boyfriend, is because we are now husband and wife, and we no longer have lengthy telephone conversations, as we live together in a home of our very own.

Proof that a lot can change over twelve years.

Bath City appear to be the exception to the rule, and continue to reside in the same league, where they were humiliated by Sutton all those years ago…


While Claire and I are very happy to have been in a relationship for twelve years, our official anniversary is now 20th June – the original date being superseded by our wedding. Therefore, while we always welcome gifts of money, holidays and the latest technology, it is probably best to wait until June.

Posted by sean on March 13, 2020 at 8:22 am in Coronavirus, Life In Bath with No Comments

Even those Bath residents upper class enough to shop at Sainsbury’s, have started wiping their own backsides.

Presumably a bidet doesn’t remove ones poop as effectively as toilet tissue, and with Mabel the Maid off sick with coronavirus, Lord and Lady Muck have to wipe their own bottoms.

See… not one sheet left!

Posted by sean on October 28, 2019 at 12:00 am in Animals, Life In Bath with No Comments

Fireworks. Pretty impressive. They could even be considered beautiful. They’re definitely fun!

Fun for some, maybe.

If you are a pet owner, it is terrible. If you are an animal, it must be absolutely terrifying.

Imagine living in a warzone, not knowing if a bomb is going to flatten your home, killing you and your family. I can only think that this is close to what our poor pets, as well as local wildlife, must be experiencing.

Even if our furry friends are not thinking about bombs and war, one thing is for certain – they are petrified!

I have always known that animals hate fireworks, but it is only since having a house rabbit that I have seen first hand just how scared they become.

Poor Roman required a lot of love, comfort and reassure to recover, following some nearby bangs this evening.

Please think of this before lighting that firework.

Personally, considering the so-called ‘Nanny State’ we live in, I am surprised that fireworks are still legal. The amount of people who must get injured as a result of the things…

I am not calling for a firework ban. Firstly, such a decision would never be agreed by the government.

I also don’t want to sound like one of those people, who takes to their blog or social media, to demand something be banned because they personally don’t like it.

Although I know the next part of this post will make me sound exactly that…

Instead of banning fireworks, I would call for a few changes in the law on how they can be used…

  • Restrict the use of fireworks to public, licenced displays.
  • Alternatively, make it illegal to light a firework outside of a certain window of dates. For example the weekend prior to and days running up to 5th November are OK, as is New Year’s Eve. Anything else is a ‘no no’.

Any chance of passing my law? Nope. Thought not.

Some local moron was setting off fireworks this evening! What’s so special about 27th October; besides the fact that the clocks have gone back, meaning mummy is allowing them to spend an extra hour out on Weston Rec (a local field) with their equally moronic friends; one of whom has stolen a firework from his daddy’s shed?

No doubt these idiotic thirty-somethings will be back later in the week, once they get some more money; which they can spend on fireworks, after paying mummy the £20 weekly rent, and of course stocking up on Frosty Jack Cider. 6 litres for £1.95. Cheaper than bleach.

Those responsible for Roman’s scare.

Seriously, if wish to see fireworks, go to an organised display. It’ll be cheaper than buying your own fireworks and you’ll see a far superior display.

If you must have a display at home, only buy fireworks suitable for the size of your garden, don’t let them off in a public place (this IS illegal) and wait until closer to Bonfire Night! Only chavs let them off in October.

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