So it's Tuesday, which means it's time for the Crack'd Pot. But it's also Shrove Tuesday which, to non religious people, (IE Almost everyone I know) means it is Pancake day! I'll let you take that in a minute.
So Pancake day, possibly the greatest day of the year (except maybe talk like a pirate day). It's the day where we make pancakes. It's a plain and simple holiday, a real "Ronseal" Job:
"It's Pancake Day what do you do?"
"Make some Pancakes"
As opposed to:
"It's Christmas day! What do you do?"
"Christ some mass? I'm at a loss"
Really Pancake day is the least confusable day. Which is really pretty sweet, it involves no brain power at all. Which we like. So Happy Pancake day to you.
So, it's obvious that I have forgotten (or never knew) the real reason of Pancake Day, Shrove Tuesday, but apparently it marks the day before Ash Wednesday (which was the second choice in naming the hero of the Pokemon series) and is a time for Christians to repent and clear themselves of sin in preparation for Lent, the whole forty days, forty nights thing that gives fat people a chance to make up on their failed new years resolution of "put down the fork". Which makes some sense to me, this is how the religious people see it:
Flour, Eggs and Milk are the equivalent of our sins
So we use up all the Flour, Eggs and Milk to show repenting our sins.
This leaves us with no Flour, Eggs or Milk, showing we have no sins.
Or, how I see it:
Flour, Eggs and Milk are really hard to find in your cupboard.
We Buy Flour, Eggs and Milk to make pancakes in preparation for our forty days of giving stuff up.
We then have no Flour, Eggs and Milk. Which means fat women have no cake baking ingredients, so they can "put down the fork"
I'm just saying it's one of the religious celebrations which has REALLY lost it's meaning; sure Christmas is commercial as hell, but you still have the whole Jesus thing with pancake day it's lost all meaning and is just about making awesome food. Not that I'm complaining.
That's all I'm saying, that and it's a conspiracy to make fat chicks thin again.
But I'm not here to talk only about Pancakes; those delicious, cakey, pans. No, I want to talk about holidays in general. With Valentine's day just gone (which is just swell), Easter around the corner (an early one this year), Christmas was a month and a half ago, and bonfire night and Halloween shortly before that it's clear to see that winter is a season of holidays.
Now I remember in School the teachers telling us that this was because of the shorter days of winter, and people needing cheering up, which for once, I buy. I mean cases of S.A.D (yeah, awesome mnemonic) are vastly increased in winter, when there's less vitamin D coming from the sun, because the damn clouds cover it (Darn you clouds!). So people need celebrations like Christmas, Bonfire Night, and Valentine's day to make you feel happier (though some may argue Valentine's doesn't make everyone cheery).
But that leaves summer. Now most summers are lovely and warm with the sun out and shining and what not, but if you're English, and live in England, you will have noticed, the sun is not that happy to be out and about in the summer.
Which leads me to my point, why don't we have some sort of holiday celebration in summer? almost every month has one up until June, and then after September, but there is a lull halfway through the year.
Thinking about it, it's quite simple. Everyone is happier in the summer in general, the sun has more chance of coming out, (now it's starting to sound like a closet homosexual) and most people have time off.
And, I suppose we do have holidays in the summer, just not religious ones. For music lovers, there's Glastonbury, for Comedy Lovers there's the Edinburgh festival Fringe, for Art lovers there's the Festival itself, and for sports lovers.. well I'm sure there's some sort of championship. This leads me to believe that summer is actually a relatively new invention, and the creators of this season realised we didn't have that much going on in those three or four months, so gave us these new "modern" things.
So once again in "The Crack'd pot" the point has been alluded and all discussion nullified.
Happy Pancake day!
Joe Strange
Is pretty damn excited about the summer.
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Complaining 101
It’s the wail of a small child on public transport, who no matter what won’t shut up. It’s the shrill beep of a dying schizophrenic smoke alarm. It’s the stupid high pitched tone that your phone makes when the battery is low.
If any of you are saying “Those are all things that could beat ‘Jedward’ in a singing contest” you were partly right. Because like the subject itself this week, ‘Jedward’ are annoying, in fact the subject matter this week is actually annoyance. Because, we are all humans, and we all get annoyed, sometimes we get peeved for the wrong reasons, other times our restrained growls are completely suitable.
I myself are very easily wound up, I’m assuming it comes with the territory of having 5 older siblings constantly berating me for anything I do, or perhaps it’s because for the first 15 years of my life I had this following conversation with everyone I met:
Idiot: So what’s your name?
Lesser idiot: Joe
Idiot: What’s your second name, Joe?
Lesser idiot: Joe Strange
Idiot: Waaaaay I bet you’re a bit WEIRD, Sorry, can’t talk, my mum told me not to talk to STRANGERS
You can imagine that would get tedious after a while. Add to this a lazy eye, an inability at sports and a quirky nature and you have yourself a grade A piece of easy-to-annoy-pie. Even now that I’ve acknowledged that my name is in fact badass, that my quirky nature is in fact just funny, and that sports suck, I’m still quite easy to tip over the metaphorical edge, for instance today I shouted at a group of people for 5 minutes straight about the inaccuracies of using “Lol’d”. That’s right, I am that guy.
But I’ve found recently that I’m getting annoyed more and more, and not only that, it’s for much more ridiculous things that I’m doing it. So I thought “Joe, You can’t keep getting annoyed at every shrill squeak or retarded laugh, you need to sort yourself out”, therefore I have attempted to determine what is allowed to get me annoyed, and hopefully, you’ll agree and use my rules. If not then why are you reading this? Go out and play!
So, what then, in Joe’s new world of “selective annoyance” classes as annoying? Now these are not steadfast rules so feel free to change them to be more lenient or strict depending on your demeanour but this is a simple set of rules to follow until you find your own threshold.
The senses are the centre of this approach. If an “annoyance stimuli” affects more than two of the 5 traditional senses (Sound, Sight, Smell, Touch or Taste) then it is deemed to be annoying, and the appropriate annoyance responses are as follows:
1 sense: Suck it up and hum a tune in your head, this isn’t annoying, this is just inconvenient.
2 senses: You are allowed to shake your head and sigh to yourself. If you are with another annoyee, you may tilt your head towards the stimuli and sigh,
3 senses: You are permitted to tut disapprovingly and mutter to yourself. As with 2, you may also mutter and moan to your friend so that the annoyee may pick up on the vague subject matter.
4 senses: You begin to throw your arms in the air and say loudly “For Christ’s sake”. You and your partner may talk louder, so the annoyee definitely knows they are in the wrong.
5 senses: Physical violence is now permitted, unless it is a small child, in which case you may pull a scary face and “steal their nose” but do NOT return it. You and your companion may either attempt to beat up the annoyee or outsmart it if they are larger than you in size.
Please remember, these rules only apply when within a confined and or inescapable place, if you have the chance; you are permitted to leave the area after 2 senses have been compromised.
For clarity I will now give you some examples of possible combinations:
1 sense: Loud music emanating from someone’s headphones right next to you. (Sound)
2 senses: A baby who has just soiled itself and is crying about it. (Smell & Sound)
3 senses: Someone is eating bag of smelly crisps, such as cheese and onion, with their mouth open and the shrapnel is being spat at you. (Smell, Sound & Touch)
4 senses: At a gig which your friend assured you would be “your type of music” but in fact isn’t, lights are flashing sporadically, someone has just peed themselves so that they can stay for “the big finale” and a large sweaty man has removed his top and his moist man boobs are rubbing against you (Sound, Sight, Smell & Touch)
5 senses: An ugly baby is crying because it’s soiled itself inside your mouth and just hit you. (All five)
On top of these “sensation annoyances” you are also permitted to be peeved if you have just found out a girl you liked in school liked you at the same time, your favourite band have split, or that they are creating a sequel to IceAge.
What do you mean they have? God Dammit!
Joe Strange
I actually looked up who it is cool to hate, It is Jedward
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Lies! Part 2, the re-lyening
Ok, I realise I’ve missed a few weeks recently but I actually have a valid reason for last weeks instance of “no blog”. Last Wednesday I Had an English Language exam, and spent Tuesday night (blog night) Revising, and by revising I mean freaking out until I passed out. So that is my reason but I don’t need to explain myself to you, you’re the internet. By the way, I may find myself clarifying if I’m lying or not this week; just in case you take me a bit too seriously.
So last we- I mean 2 weeks ago I started talking about lying, and this week I intend to continue that trend for one more article. That was not a lie. In the last edition I focused on the negative stigma attached to lying, stating it was one of man's innate characteristics and as natural as sex and bathing. This edition I intend to focus on the positive aspects of lying, where my selfish character may come through, and where I may disregard peoples feelings, but what do you care, you’re the internet.
I’m a lying fanatic, I used to lie all the time when I was a kid, just so that my stories would be entertaining, however after a few too many no way that happened’s from my friends I started telling the truth, but then my stories became less interesting... So I started to lie again (this is not a lie). But that’s the thing, being a guy who adores people’s attention and laughter I find myself expanding the truth some what, making things a bigger deal than they were, or adding a nun who swears, it’s all the same thing, but it’s not just me who works in the lies to get laughs, comedians do it all the time, they will change a story (which may not even be true in the first place) to make it more relatable or funnier. And the thing is there is nothing wrong with this sort of thing, it is harmless lying. No one is hurt and no one really looses out, the audience laugh and the comedian feels good about themselves.
We’re taught from an early age that lying is wrong, if you drew on the wall, you were to confess, it’s wrong to draw on the wall. If you stab Jim with a pencil, blame it on the quiet girl, you would not last long in prison, I mean come on, you’re a kid. But we’re also told about these wonderful things called “White Lies” these are the sorts of lies comedians, children and I love.
Oxford English Dictionary describes a "White Lie” as – A harmless lie told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings now, if you’re like one of those foreign men who sell fake Rolex’s on the street and by that I mean sneaky, not, a foreign man selling Rolex’s on the street, then you can interpret this in one of two ways:
One, you could interpret it the way teachers, parents and probation officers want you to, that you can tell a lie to stop you hurting someone’s feelings, and be boring, or you could interpret it the better way: Note how the describe says “Avoid hurting someone’s feelings” it doesn’t say someone else’s feelings. Which means a white lie can be used to make you feel better; the dictionary allows us to lie to make ourselves feel good, which means we can actually do whatever the hell we want. Think about it:
“Jim, did you eat the last of the Jaffa Cakes?”
telling the truth: “Yes I did Mama, I apologise”
“Well, You shall be grounded, and worst of all, I’m very disappointed in you Jim.”
Whereas
“Jim, did you eat the last Jaffa Cake?”
White Lie: “No”
“Oh good, now I don’t have to ground you and I’m very proud of you, you’re much better looking and talented than your younger brother.”
Everybody wins! See what Jim did there, he told a white lie to make someone feel better, even if that someone was himself, but as we’ve established, those are the rules. If he had told the truth then his mum would be sad because she would have to be disappointed, and everyone hates that, and plus he wouldn’t be able to go to that big high school dance with Jenny, who totally puts out.
And if you think about it, white lies with their original boring, selfless intention, are the worst kind of lies. If someone asks you “Does my bum look big in this?” and you don’t reply “Yes, your bottom is now the equivalent mass of all the tubs of Ben and Jerry’s that girls who have ever been dumped have eaten” then you are taking away you’re now both overweight and angry girlfriends excuse to mow you down and eat the remains.
But then, I’m sure I’d be pretty peeved if someone mowed me down and ate what was left, so in a way the 2 meanings contradict each other into a paradoxical whirlwind of lies.
So in the last 2 weeks we have literally gotten nowhere in the investigation into lying. Oh well.
Joe Strange
Has a terrible feeling all my childhood friends will now turn on me for telling fibs.
So last we- I mean 2 weeks ago I started talking about lying, and this week I intend to continue that trend for one more article. That was not a lie. In the last edition I focused on the negative stigma attached to lying, stating it was one of man's innate characteristics and as natural as sex and bathing. This edition I intend to focus on the positive aspects of lying, where my selfish character may come through, and where I may disregard peoples feelings, but what do you care, you’re the internet.
I’m a lying fanatic, I used to lie all the time when I was a kid, just so that my stories would be entertaining, however after a few too many no way that happened’s from my friends I started telling the truth, but then my stories became less interesting... So I started to lie again (this is not a lie). But that’s the thing, being a guy who adores people’s attention and laughter I find myself expanding the truth some what, making things a bigger deal than they were, or adding a nun who swears, it’s all the same thing, but it’s not just me who works in the lies to get laughs, comedians do it all the time, they will change a story (which may not even be true in the first place) to make it more relatable or funnier. And the thing is there is nothing wrong with this sort of thing, it is harmless lying. No one is hurt and no one really looses out, the audience laugh and the comedian feels good about themselves.
We’re taught from an early age that lying is wrong, if you drew on the wall, you were to confess, it’s wrong to draw on the wall. If you stab Jim with a pencil, blame it on the quiet girl, you would not last long in prison, I mean come on, you’re a kid. But we’re also told about these wonderful things called “White Lies” these are the sorts of lies comedians, children and I love.
Oxford English Dictionary describes a "White Lie” as – A harmless lie told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings now, if you’re like one of those foreign men who sell fake Rolex’s on the street and by that I mean sneaky, not, a foreign man selling Rolex’s on the street, then you can interpret this in one of two ways:
One, you could interpret it the way teachers, parents and probation officers want you to, that you can tell a lie to stop you hurting someone’s feelings, and be boring, or you could interpret it the better way: Note how the describe says “Avoid hurting someone’s feelings” it doesn’t say someone else’s feelings. Which means a white lie can be used to make you feel better; the dictionary allows us to lie to make ourselves feel good, which means we can actually do whatever the hell we want. Think about it:
“Jim, did you eat the last of the Jaffa Cakes?”
telling the truth: “Yes I did Mama, I apologise”
“Well, You shall be grounded, and worst of all, I’m very disappointed in you Jim.”
Whereas
“Jim, did you eat the last Jaffa Cake?”
White Lie: “No”
“Oh good, now I don’t have to ground you and I’m very proud of you, you’re much better looking and talented than your younger brother.”
Everybody wins! See what Jim did there, he told a white lie to make someone feel better, even if that someone was himself, but as we’ve established, those are the rules. If he had told the truth then his mum would be sad because she would have to be disappointed, and everyone hates that, and plus he wouldn’t be able to go to that big high school dance with Jenny, who totally puts out.
And if you think about it, white lies with their original boring, selfless intention, are the worst kind of lies. If someone asks you “Does my bum look big in this?” and you don’t reply “Yes, your bottom is now the equivalent mass of all the tubs of Ben and Jerry’s that girls who have ever been dumped have eaten” then you are taking away you’re now both overweight and angry girlfriends excuse to mow you down and eat the remains.
But then, I’m sure I’d be pretty peeved if someone mowed me down and ate what was left, so in a way the 2 meanings contradict each other into a paradoxical whirlwind of lies.
So in the last 2 weeks we have literally gotten nowhere in the investigation into lying. Oh well.
Joe Strange
Has a terrible feeling all my childhood friends will now turn on me for telling fibs.
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Super Festive Edition!
So for this week’s blog I've decided to be all festive, take a seat, sit down, go on, take off your coat, sit by the fire, have a mince pie, some mulled wine perhaps?
So, It's Christmas on Friday, Wow eh? I say this because it really hasn’t felt like Christmas this year at all, not until Saturday in fact. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Joe, You rosy cheeked Christmas elf! How can you not notice Christmas the most magical time of the year?”
Well, dear reader, sit down, next to the fire, with a mince pie and some mulled wine and I shall tell you, MY Christmas story....
It all begins about halfway through November, you know the time, Halloween is a few weeks ago and therefore Christmas stock is in, people are beginning to ask you what you would like for Christmas, (and you still have no clue), and in the Joe Strange household, “Christmas” is a forbidden word. The thing is, me, being a 7 year old at heart, (I still, for instance laugh at the word “titmouse”) get very very excited around this time of year. Mystery, family and flashing lights, are all things that both get me excited and happen around this time of year. So to that effect, I decided this year that I was not going to even think about Christmas until December, which meant 2 weeks of avoiding the subject in November. This would mean that I would have more fun when it came to December and I finally joined in the party. Of course, no one told me that these 2 weeks of ignoring the “C” word, as it would then become known as, would be so painfully hard that I ignored the telly and stopped asking people what they were up to in case any variant of the word “Christmas” turned up, Noel, the holiday season, Xmas, national eat all you can day. This was particularly hard when it came to the notorious Coke advert, with its pretty lights and catchy jingle.
So at first I was avoiding the season, and now, I’m having trouble getting into the festive spirit, and as of Saturday, as I said, I am in the spirit, but that was 6 days before! I know i intended to be late to the party but not so late that the good nibbles were gone, all the fun people were gone and all that was left was breadsticks and people passed out!
So, I’m obviously being awkward about it, I hear to you think, I’m not, or not intentionally, I’ve had things on my mind since the beginning of the month which have subdued the festivities, as I mentioned 2 entries ago, my stand up show was taking up a lot of my thought time and my energies, which didn’t leave much room for small things like Jesus’ birthday, and then, after my gig I had to focus on getting college work done in time so that the last day of term could be a blast (I got it done, and it was).
Even the slowly increasing number of Christmas cards in my possession and the influx of tinsel in the college didn’t affect my Christmas mood.
Now I know you’re all thinking I’m some sort of scrooge, but it’s not just me personally that has had trouble with the whole Christmas thing, a friend of mine today said “Christmas gets worse as you get older”. Now while I agree on some points, the mystery is gone, people ask you what you want, the giant beardy paedophile doesn’t actually exist and you can no longer go to Santa’s grotto, I have to disagree with others, for instant, when you’re a kid the idea of family isn’t as cemented into your brain, and for me that’s a major draw for Christmas, I love my family, the atmosphere is more conscious as well, for once you do get into the mood, Christmas makes you feel ecstatic. (Hopefully or else here’s a humbug). And of course there’s the alcoholic excuse, this time of the year it’s perfectly acceptable to buy vast amounts of booze and not feel guilty, and if that isn’t a Christmas blessing I don’t know what is.
Another reason I think I’m not in the Christmas mood is because of the considerable lack of Christmas decorations in the house, you see, we keep the decorations in the attic, I’m the only one who can fit up there and therefore if I am away at college or work or unconscious, I am unable to retrieve these items and so there is no Christmas cheer in the Strange house.
2 things this weekend got me into the Christmas spirit, first of all, like many of my problems, this lack of festivity in my mind was solved by a few people, not my close friends, not my family, not even the A-team, but The Barenaked Ladies. This is by far my favourite band, for a number of reasons, but i recently and completely legally came into possession of their holiday album, which involves an extraordinary rendition of “jingle bells”. I challenge anyone to listen to that song and by the end of it not feel Christmassy, except you Ebenezer. And second of all, it snowed this weekend, and for those who live in the arctic, or Canada, or Greenland, this may not sound very impressive but here in Cornwall, it’s a ruddy big deal, it causes the entire place to grind to a halt, which is highly impressive. (For more information on this subject see blog entry “with this carrot”)
So thanks to those few things and of course, help from others, I have reached the point where I cannot wait for Friday the 25th of December. So thank you everyone for everything they’ve done for me this year, and this month, even if it’s as simple as reading this blog. Merry Christmas.
Joe Strange
If for some reason or another you do not celebrate Christmas please replace all instances of the “C” word with you’re holiday.
So, It's Christmas on Friday, Wow eh? I say this because it really hasn’t felt like Christmas this year at all, not until Saturday in fact. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Joe, You rosy cheeked Christmas elf! How can you not notice Christmas the most magical time of the year?”
Well, dear reader, sit down, next to the fire, with a mince pie and some mulled wine and I shall tell you, MY Christmas story....
It all begins about halfway through November, you know the time, Halloween is a few weeks ago and therefore Christmas stock is in, people are beginning to ask you what you would like for Christmas, (and you still have no clue), and in the Joe Strange household, “Christmas” is a forbidden word. The thing is, me, being a 7 year old at heart, (I still, for instance laugh at the word “titmouse”) get very very excited around this time of year. Mystery, family and flashing lights, are all things that both get me excited and happen around this time of year. So to that effect, I decided this year that I was not going to even think about Christmas until December, which meant 2 weeks of avoiding the subject in November. This would mean that I would have more fun when it came to December and I finally joined in the party. Of course, no one told me that these 2 weeks of ignoring the “C” word, as it would then become known as, would be so painfully hard that I ignored the telly and stopped asking people what they were up to in case any variant of the word “Christmas” turned up, Noel, the holiday season, Xmas, national eat all you can day. This was particularly hard when it came to the notorious Coke advert, with its pretty lights and catchy jingle.
So at first I was avoiding the season, and now, I’m having trouble getting into the festive spirit, and as of Saturday, as I said, I am in the spirit, but that was 6 days before! I know i intended to be late to the party but not so late that the good nibbles were gone, all the fun people were gone and all that was left was breadsticks and people passed out!
So, I’m obviously being awkward about it, I hear to you think, I’m not, or not intentionally, I’ve had things on my mind since the beginning of the month which have subdued the festivities, as I mentioned 2 entries ago, my stand up show was taking up a lot of my thought time and my energies, which didn’t leave much room for small things like Jesus’ birthday, and then, after my gig I had to focus on getting college work done in time so that the last day of term could be a blast (I got it done, and it was).
Even the slowly increasing number of Christmas cards in my possession and the influx of tinsel in the college didn’t affect my Christmas mood.
Now I know you’re all thinking I’m some sort of scrooge, but it’s not just me personally that has had trouble with the whole Christmas thing, a friend of mine today said “Christmas gets worse as you get older”. Now while I agree on some points, the mystery is gone, people ask you what you want, the giant beardy paedophile doesn’t actually exist and you can no longer go to Santa’s grotto, I have to disagree with others, for instant, when you’re a kid the idea of family isn’t as cemented into your brain, and for me that’s a major draw for Christmas, I love my family, the atmosphere is more conscious as well, for once you do get into the mood, Christmas makes you feel ecstatic. (Hopefully or else here’s a humbug). And of course there’s the alcoholic excuse, this time of the year it’s perfectly acceptable to buy vast amounts of booze and not feel guilty, and if that isn’t a Christmas blessing I don’t know what is.
Another reason I think I’m not in the Christmas mood is because of the considerable lack of Christmas decorations in the house, you see, we keep the decorations in the attic, I’m the only one who can fit up there and therefore if I am away at college or work or unconscious, I am unable to retrieve these items and so there is no Christmas cheer in the Strange house.
2 things this weekend got me into the Christmas spirit, first of all, like many of my problems, this lack of festivity in my mind was solved by a few people, not my close friends, not my family, not even the A-team, but The Barenaked Ladies. This is by far my favourite band, for a number of reasons, but i recently and completely legally came into possession of their holiday album, which involves an extraordinary rendition of “jingle bells”. I challenge anyone to listen to that song and by the end of it not feel Christmassy, except you Ebenezer. And second of all, it snowed this weekend, and for those who live in the arctic, or Canada, or Greenland, this may not sound very impressive but here in Cornwall, it’s a ruddy big deal, it causes the entire place to grind to a halt, which is highly impressive. (For more information on this subject see blog entry “with this carrot”)
So thanks to those few things and of course, help from others, I have reached the point where I cannot wait for Friday the 25th of December. So thank you everyone for everything they’ve done for me this year, and this month, even if it’s as simple as reading this blog. Merry Christmas.
Joe Strange
If for some reason or another you do not celebrate Christmas please replace all instances of the “C” word with you’re holiday.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
My Festival Education
So with Glastonbury behind us now, I didn’t go but I was assured it was an insane experience, my thoughts this weeks go to festivals and all round excitement about events.
First of all there’s the excitement for the smallest happenings, a party? Everyone prepare with military precision who, what, when where, and then get ready with the hilarious anecdotes about what the crazy guy did that night. There’s always one, and if you don’t know them, you probably are them. In fact it goes further than the preparation, some small events are so saturated with alcohol, flashing lights and squirrels, that it seem like the biggest party in history even if it is just a drink down the pub that went a bit far. Now speaking of a bit far, I’m a relatively calm guy, I’m not one for getting “wrecked” or snorting sherbet through a toilet roll tube (it’s all the rage apparently). But that’s not to mean I don’t enjoy a few glasses of pimms and watching my butler juggle the family cats. But there are some people I know, no names but a lot of respect to these crazy people, which will see my few pimms and a juggling butler and raise me a crate of absinthe and a butler with the hiccoughs swallowing swords. These people truly are insane. They make horrendous claims such as “it must have been a good night, I don’t remember a thing” that sounds rather inconvenient, especially since you can’t figure out how you lost a kidney and grew an extra toe. And my favourite, “F***, What A F***ing Awesome Weekend. Alcohol, Unknown Drunken Injuries, Drink Driving On Dodgems, Sickness, Studio Bar, Skinny Dipping.... F*** Glasto, The Party Is Right Here.” (edited for your young pretty little minds)
This guy is so excited about a small celebration that he said to Glastonbury; “No, screw you, and your atmosphere and music, I’m fine being inebriated at a fair ground”
Before this year Glastonbury never really appealed to me, bands who I most likely won’t like, mud everywhere and sleeping out in the cold? When you’re as picky with music as me you get hesitant about spending a lot of money to see a few bands, most of which you’re not sure of if you can even stand. Of course you say that to any music fanatic and they will assure you, with a lot of force, I mean a lot of insistence, non of which is violent, that it’s not just a “few” bands, and in fact the atmosphere is something not to be scoffed at, in fact some say it is to be gawped at, and that if you say this again they will shove a small, claustrophobic mammal down your throat so it can reside there until the fear gets too much and it claws it’s way out. Apparently. So I now I have been educated in the awesomeness that is Glastonbury and the music there, I still have to be persuaded that the mud, strangers, cold and over all socialising is all worth it. It’s apparent that it is, according to eye witness reports, it doesn’t always rain at “Glasto”, not every one is going to murder you and jumpers are on sale everywhere. Oh and socialising isn’t all that bad either.
And well, looking at the past line up, well the one that was this weekend, there are so many stages and acts I must like at least one of them right? Yeah I thought so. It may be because I’m only a country boy trying to live the city life (on the basis I know how a computer works) but previously I thought all people wanted to hurt me. Who wouldn’t, with all this scare mongering about killers and stuff? I was also under the impression that the cold would kill you and that the only good company to keep was tree’s, sheep, and people you’ve known ever since you learnt to judge character. But apparently my West Country teaching was all a lie, and the above facts aren’t even true!
So I’m sold, on Glastonbury.
This all came to me about 9 months ago (it was just under 9 months later that I realised Glastonbury might not be terrible) when I was at a BBQ on one of the sunny days in the abyss of terrible weather that was last years “Summer”. I was talking to a new “friend” about comedy (my go to conversation) when some drunk old man comes into the kitchen and leans over the counter to us and says in a gravelly yet wise voice. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you like comedy” yes I replied to the drunken mentor. “Well may I kindly suggest…” a very long pause. Yes I thought, you can suggest anything kindly, just don’t bring out a blade (I was still under the impression all people where out to get me by now) “… that you go to the Edinburgh festival, its full of comedy, and some gigs are free, and you can heckle at the crap ones” Great I thought, it had already crossed my mind. But my doubts about the huge venues and lack of funds had kept me back from seriously thinking about it until then, but this drunken guy had told me it wasn’t too much of a problem, and so far he hadn’t brought a knife to my throat so he also threw that “lie” out of the water.
So a year or so later, I have decided to get my act together and organise a trip to Edinburgh for the festival in august, 5 days of comedy and theatre shows, and so far, in the planning stages it hasn’t blown up too badly. In fact we are almost ready to go, just got to wait until the date and save up for what will most likely be the funniest, most expensive 5 days of my ever so short life thus far.
Joe strange
I’m taking a break from my usual comical quips to say that during my Edinburgh trip I will most likely be keeping a blog and will have a few videos of the trip. How I intend to keep the “real time” blog without a computer, I don’t know, I may do a retrospective blog on the Saturday when I get back to Cornwall. So stay tuned!
First of all there’s the excitement for the smallest happenings, a party? Everyone prepare with military precision who, what, when where, and then get ready with the hilarious anecdotes about what the crazy guy did that night. There’s always one, and if you don’t know them, you probably are them. In fact it goes further than the preparation, some small events are so saturated with alcohol, flashing lights and squirrels, that it seem like the biggest party in history even if it is just a drink down the pub that went a bit far. Now speaking of a bit far, I’m a relatively calm guy, I’m not one for getting “wrecked” or snorting sherbet through a toilet roll tube (it’s all the rage apparently). But that’s not to mean I don’t enjoy a few glasses of pimms and watching my butler juggle the family cats. But there are some people I know, no names but a lot of respect to these crazy people, which will see my few pimms and a juggling butler and raise me a crate of absinthe and a butler with the hiccoughs swallowing swords. These people truly are insane. They make horrendous claims such as “it must have been a good night, I don’t remember a thing” that sounds rather inconvenient, especially since you can’t figure out how you lost a kidney and grew an extra toe. And my favourite, “F***, What A F***ing Awesome Weekend. Alcohol, Unknown Drunken Injuries, Drink Driving On Dodgems, Sickness, Studio Bar, Skinny Dipping.... F*** Glasto, The Party Is Right Here.” (edited for your young pretty little minds)
This guy is so excited about a small celebration that he said to Glastonbury; “No, screw you, and your atmosphere and music, I’m fine being inebriated at a fair ground”
Before this year Glastonbury never really appealed to me, bands who I most likely won’t like, mud everywhere and sleeping out in the cold? When you’re as picky with music as me you get hesitant about spending a lot of money to see a few bands, most of which you’re not sure of if you can even stand. Of course you say that to any music fanatic and they will assure you, with a lot of force, I mean a lot of insistence, non of which is violent, that it’s not just a “few” bands, and in fact the atmosphere is something not to be scoffed at, in fact some say it is to be gawped at, and that if you say this again they will shove a small, claustrophobic mammal down your throat so it can reside there until the fear gets too much and it claws it’s way out. Apparently. So I now I have been educated in the awesomeness that is Glastonbury and the music there, I still have to be persuaded that the mud, strangers, cold and over all socialising is all worth it. It’s apparent that it is, according to eye witness reports, it doesn’t always rain at “Glasto”, not every one is going to murder you and jumpers are on sale everywhere. Oh and socialising isn’t all that bad either.
And well, looking at the past line up, well the one that was this weekend, there are so many stages and acts I must like at least one of them right? Yeah I thought so. It may be because I’m only a country boy trying to live the city life (on the basis I know how a computer works) but previously I thought all people wanted to hurt me. Who wouldn’t, with all this scare mongering about killers and stuff? I was also under the impression that the cold would kill you and that the only good company to keep was tree’s, sheep, and people you’ve known ever since you learnt to judge character. But apparently my West Country teaching was all a lie, and the above facts aren’t even true!
So I’m sold, on Glastonbury.
This all came to me about 9 months ago (it was just under 9 months later that I realised Glastonbury might not be terrible) when I was at a BBQ on one of the sunny days in the abyss of terrible weather that was last years “Summer”. I was talking to a new “friend” about comedy (my go to conversation) when some drunk old man comes into the kitchen and leans over the counter to us and says in a gravelly yet wise voice. “I couldn’t help overhearing that you like comedy” yes I replied to the drunken mentor. “Well may I kindly suggest…” a very long pause. Yes I thought, you can suggest anything kindly, just don’t bring out a blade (I was still under the impression all people where out to get me by now) “… that you go to the Edinburgh festival, its full of comedy, and some gigs are free, and you can heckle at the crap ones” Great I thought, it had already crossed my mind. But my doubts about the huge venues and lack of funds had kept me back from seriously thinking about it until then, but this drunken guy had told me it wasn’t too much of a problem, and so far he hadn’t brought a knife to my throat so he also threw that “lie” out of the water.
So a year or so later, I have decided to get my act together and organise a trip to Edinburgh for the festival in august, 5 days of comedy and theatre shows, and so far, in the planning stages it hasn’t blown up too badly. In fact we are almost ready to go, just got to wait until the date and save up for what will most likely be the funniest, most expensive 5 days of my ever so short life thus far.
Joe strange
I’m taking a break from my usual comical quips to say that during my Edinburgh trip I will most likely be keeping a blog and will have a few videos of the trip. How I intend to keep the “real time” blog without a computer, I don’t know, I may do a retrospective blog on the Saturday when I get back to Cornwall. So stay tuned!
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
I Need You Boots Your Clothes And You To Stop Poking Me.
This Week I want to talk about thresholds, and not the boundaries around your house, that'd be a boring subject. Well less boring than this one anyway.
So the idea for this one came from a pretty surreal source, and like most small thoughts they evolved into something that actually I thought I may be able to write about. How wrong was I? I was watching Terminator 2 a few nights ago and I don't know if you've seen it but there is a scene where a little kid pokes Arnie in the cheek about 4 times, and since he's a robot, he isn't allowed to show emotions. Now think how many takes that scene actually took? I know he's a great actor and all but I'd get ruddy peeved off if a kid kept jabbing me in the face, and since the first rule of showbiz is not to work with kids, we have to immediately assume that the reason behind this is because kids make everyone annoyed with their crying and whining and ballsing up, so if he add a fair 15 takes onto that and times the amount of times Arnie gets poked (4) we get 60 pokes in the face. I would not have the threshold for that much facepokery, so on that note I thought to myself as I lie in bed, "what is my threshold for annoyance, and anything else for that matter?"
Annoyance
As previously mentioned my threshold for annoyance doesn't succeed a few pokes in the face. Ever since i was a kid I had a short fuse, I suppose it comes with having such ammunition as a surname, I got tired of jokes easily and I still cant stand someone repeating themselves over again, so that scene in terminator would have been very different if I was the Austrian body builder. this also accounts for the reason my acting career will never take flight, since imagine if there was a job where you have to repeat yourself 100's of times? Devastating.
Pain
Now here's a fun one, my threshold for pain is the equivalent to that of a small child thrown against a wall by an Austrian body builder after 1 too many pokes to the face. I am truly terrible with pain, in fact I seem to be cursed with this since every time I say that sentence; "I Don't Like Pain" I seem to get into an accident which proves my point exactly, last year whilst on a bike ride I said to a friend, I don't like pain, and I fell down a "cliff" (See Big Hill) and couldn't move for 2 days. On the beach the other day, a mere hour after stating the claim I attempted a downhill cartwheel chain and buggered my wrist up royally. I say royally, most people could have shock it off, but not this small child thrown against a wall! So Expect me next week to be talking about an accident with a brick involving my head since I've said "the" phrase twice in the last paragraph
Bad Comedy
I'm willing to give anything a chance, a sitcom, a stand up, a whiny celebrity with some merit. But I find it hard to put up with things I feel so strongly about, like drugs, abortion and the over use of the word random in today's youth. For instance I am not the worlds biggest fan of Dane Cook. He's a terrible comedian who isn't funny and steals other peoples jokes, plus he just LOOKS like a douchebag, and I have attempted to give him a chance I have, I watched him kill a theatre full of peoples sense of humour for 10 minutes straight, I watched him ruin the great film "waiting" hell, I even sat through "my best friends wedding" but he just isn't funny, in fact, I'd go as far to say he is UN funny. and a douche, don't forget that.
Film
My threshold for Film is also controlled by a few ground rules: If there are more than 3 explosions, various one liners, a guy that looks like Ben Folds or robots in the trailer, i will most likely see it, if the title ends in "....Movie" I wont touch it, if it has Keanu Reeves, the acting will most likely be more like cardboard than a "Shreddies" box, for full frontal nudity of Jason Segal there must be at least 1 hot actress. per testicle. and finally when it comes to chick flicks, soppy stories, rom com's involving Colin Firth, or a film where the pet is the mian character, the rule all boyfriends and dating men should abide by to avoid disappointment, If It gets Me Laid, It Gets Played.
Joe Strange
Attempted to go an entire blog about poking faces without mentioning Pokerface.
So the idea for this one came from a pretty surreal source, and like most small thoughts they evolved into something that actually I thought I may be able to write about. How wrong was I? I was watching Terminator 2 a few nights ago and I don't know if you've seen it but there is a scene where a little kid pokes Arnie in the cheek about 4 times, and since he's a robot, he isn't allowed to show emotions. Now think how many takes that scene actually took? I know he's a great actor and all but I'd get ruddy peeved off if a kid kept jabbing me in the face, and since the first rule of showbiz is not to work with kids, we have to immediately assume that the reason behind this is because kids make everyone annoyed with their crying and whining and ballsing up, so if he add a fair 15 takes onto that and times the amount of times Arnie gets poked (4) we get 60 pokes in the face. I would not have the threshold for that much facepokery, so on that note I thought to myself as I lie in bed, "what is my threshold for annoyance, and anything else for that matter?"
Annoyance
As previously mentioned my threshold for annoyance doesn't succeed a few pokes in the face. Ever since i was a kid I had a short fuse, I suppose it comes with having such ammunition as a surname, I got tired of jokes easily and I still cant stand someone repeating themselves over again, so that scene in terminator would have been very different if I was the Austrian body builder. this also accounts for the reason my acting career will never take flight, since imagine if there was a job where you have to repeat yourself 100's of times? Devastating.
Pain
Now here's a fun one, my threshold for pain is the equivalent to that of a small child thrown against a wall by an Austrian body builder after 1 too many pokes to the face. I am truly terrible with pain, in fact I seem to be cursed with this since every time I say that sentence; "I Don't Like Pain" I seem to get into an accident which proves my point exactly, last year whilst on a bike ride I said to a friend, I don't like pain, and I fell down a "cliff" (See Big Hill) and couldn't move for 2 days. On the beach the other day, a mere hour after stating the claim I attempted a downhill cartwheel chain and buggered my wrist up royally. I say royally, most people could have shock it off, but not this small child thrown against a wall! So Expect me next week to be talking about an accident with a brick involving my head since I've said "the" phrase twice in the last paragraph
Bad Comedy
I'm willing to give anything a chance, a sitcom, a stand up, a whiny celebrity with some merit. But I find it hard to put up with things I feel so strongly about, like drugs, abortion and the over use of the word random in today's youth. For instance I am not the worlds biggest fan of Dane Cook. He's a terrible comedian who isn't funny and steals other peoples jokes, plus he just LOOKS like a douchebag, and I have attempted to give him a chance I have, I watched him kill a theatre full of peoples sense of humour for 10 minutes straight, I watched him ruin the great film "waiting" hell, I even sat through "my best friends wedding" but he just isn't funny, in fact, I'd go as far to say he is UN funny. and a douche, don't forget that.
Film
My threshold for Film is also controlled by a few ground rules: If there are more than 3 explosions, various one liners, a guy that looks like Ben Folds or robots in the trailer, i will most likely see it, if the title ends in "....Movie" I wont touch it, if it has Keanu Reeves, the acting will most likely be more like cardboard than a "Shreddies" box, for full frontal nudity of Jason Segal there must be at least 1 hot actress. per testicle. and finally when it comes to chick flicks, soppy stories, rom com's involving Colin Firth, or a film where the pet is the mian character, the rule all boyfriends and dating men should abide by to avoid disappointment, If It gets Me Laid, It Gets Played.
Joe Strange
Attempted to go an entire blog about poking faces without mentioning Pokerface.
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
Britain's Got Empathy
Considering last week I talked about secondary characters in TV and the media, today I'm going to continue that streak of media, mainly television.
Well, as most of you will have heard "Britain's got the X factor" finished on Friday night and whether you watch it or not, you must of heard some of the crazy stories coming from it, the main reason for this being that the news is talking about it more than Clarkson talks about foxes, which is a lot. With a lot of these reality tv programs I tend to steer clear, who's coming out of the jungle? I don't care, but if it's mentioned that some deadbeat celeb' got jiggly with a banana tree or an ex footballer got attacked by an alligator, you can bet your house that I'll know all about it. but when it comes to these talent shows, the only reason I tune in at all is to watch the auditions, cos who doesn't love a crazed sith lord dancing to Michael Jackson? just a little note, he made it to the semi finals, you can see it here, give it a go, it's hilarious.
So, back to Fridays final. I always thought that like me, people tuned into watch idiots in fancy dress be torn down by Simon Cowell, or to see some surprisingly good dance by some kids or something, you know to have a good laugh at people a million times braver than us, apparently not, 19 million people tuned in on Friday to watch the final, the highest viewing figures ever since the dawn of time, and by the dawn of time I mean 2003, OK, so it isn't a huge deal, but it's something that got me thinking.
Reality shows are cheap to make, they cost hardly anything really, compared to hugely awesome shows such as the American "heroes" or our "Dr Who" and as we can see, people now are taking interest in the stories as oppose to just laughing when some old guy with his trousers too high say that a 60 year old puppy juggler has no chance. That's right, Britain has empathy. If you don't believe me then look at all this uproar about this Susan Boyle character (just one story of the millions.) Now I wont pretend to care what went wrong in the final, but apparently she is suffering exhaustion, and a child involved with the show also is in trauma or dead or something bad because Simon said some nasty things.
So Reality shows dominate the airwaves because they are cheap and now people of Britain actually care, they are getting brilliant viewing figures. so does this mean the end for brilliant dramas or comedies like "How I met your mother" "Dr Who" "House" "Heroes" and all the other well thought out, well acted (occasionally) and well loved shows? No, it doesn't, and Ill tell you one reason why, well I could give you a million reasons why. Ill ask you, does anyone remember Steve Brookstein? What about Brian Dowling? Or even Racheal Rice? Any one remember? No, well they are all winners of reality shows of television past. What about "Martin Hoberg Hedegaard" well you shouldn't really, he's the 2008 winner of Denmark's Xfactor. The reason these shows just wont succeed is simple, they are like the television version of milk, really good for bringing in the money, but have a shelf life as long as Tom Cruise is tall. they're not like shows such as "vicar of Dibley", or "only fools and horses", real British comedy which people still remember today people forget about them as soon as the next one comes along. which is why proper television will always prevail, because people can remember more than one sitcom at a time.
Joe Strange
I say we'll forget them all, but I will NEVER forget Darth Jackson. Ever.
Well, as most of you will have heard "Britain's got the X factor" finished on Friday night and whether you watch it or not, you must of heard some of the crazy stories coming from it, the main reason for this being that the news is talking about it more than Clarkson talks about foxes, which is a lot. With a lot of these reality tv programs I tend to steer clear, who's coming out of the jungle? I don't care, but if it's mentioned that some deadbeat celeb' got jiggly with a banana tree or an ex footballer got attacked by an alligator, you can bet your house that I'll know all about it. but when it comes to these talent shows, the only reason I tune in at all is to watch the auditions, cos who doesn't love a crazed sith lord dancing to Michael Jackson? just a little note, he made it to the semi finals, you can see it here, give it a go, it's hilarious.
So, back to Fridays final. I always thought that like me, people tuned into watch idiots in fancy dress be torn down by Simon Cowell, or to see some surprisingly good dance by some kids or something, you know to have a good laugh at people a million times braver than us, apparently not, 19 million people tuned in on Friday to watch the final, the highest viewing figures ever since the dawn of time, and by the dawn of time I mean 2003, OK, so it isn't a huge deal, but it's something that got me thinking.
Reality shows are cheap to make, they cost hardly anything really, compared to hugely awesome shows such as the American "heroes" or our "Dr Who" and as we can see, people now are taking interest in the stories as oppose to just laughing when some old guy with his trousers too high say that a 60 year old puppy juggler has no chance. That's right, Britain has empathy. If you don't believe me then look at all this uproar about this Susan Boyle character (just one story of the millions.) Now I wont pretend to care what went wrong in the final, but apparently she is suffering exhaustion, and a child involved with the show also is in trauma or dead or something bad because Simon said some nasty things.
So Reality shows dominate the airwaves because they are cheap and now people of Britain actually care, they are getting brilliant viewing figures. so does this mean the end for brilliant dramas or comedies like "How I met your mother" "Dr Who" "House" "Heroes" and all the other well thought out, well acted (occasionally) and well loved shows? No, it doesn't, and Ill tell you one reason why, well I could give you a million reasons why. Ill ask you, does anyone remember Steve Brookstein? What about Brian Dowling? Or even Racheal Rice? Any one remember? No, well they are all winners of reality shows of television past. What about "Martin Hoberg Hedegaard" well you shouldn't really, he's the 2008 winner of Denmark's Xfactor. The reason these shows just wont succeed is simple, they are like the television version of milk, really good for bringing in the money, but have a shelf life as long as Tom Cruise is tall. they're not like shows such as "vicar of Dibley", or "only fools and horses", real British comedy which people still remember today people forget about them as soon as the next one comes along. which is why proper television will always prevail, because people can remember more than one sitcom at a time.
Joe Strange
I say we'll forget them all, but I will NEVER forget Darth Jackson. Ever.
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
Nature Deserves An ASBO
First of all, I am dreadfully sorry about my fortnightly absence, It seems college and exams got the better of me and I was too strained to write, or do anything for that matter, even revise.
Now to this weeks topic.
Today, on one of my many walks around my village, I decided to take a scenic route to my house, as oppose to the straight line that I normally take. A straight line to and from somewhere? Why that's impossible! I disagree, While turning on the spot may, to passers by, make you look like an indecisive fool, it has it's uses if you live in a relatively linear village. So, I walked straight passed my house and went down A delightful country lane. Down this lane I happened upon a majestic, colourful, regal pigeon, well a large pigeon, it could very well have been a pheasant. Anyway, this inquisitive creature was poking around a garden, most likely trying to find a way into the abode to steal an MP3 player, I hear they fetch a high price on the foul market.
Now, as I live in the estate of the village and only ever leave to go to college or work this was a rare sight for me. I reached for my camera to catch the culprit in the act of theft, but I was too slow and it hopped to the next garden, I proceed to pursue the thief but was outmatched by the fact that god preferred them over us and gave birds wings.
The sad thing is I will most likely see that bird on the nearby road since people insist on driving 1,000,000 MPH along my village.
And then, continuing my walk, having had a bitter taste of wildlife "photography" and by the term I mean pointing the camera at the bird, and then catching only the garden as it has flown away. (A very nice garden it is too.) I grasp my camera looking for more fluffy creatures or more of gods examples of favouritism. not long was I strolling along the meandering lane as I stopped, looked down to my feet and saw a small wild rabbit staring at me in the face. This brought back fond memories of when I was walking along the road to work and stopped, looked down to see a small brown rabbit staring me down, I stepped cautiously to try not to startle it it bolted towards the road, and then back into the hedge, once again I cursed god for not giving me that comically quick movement, I smiled at seeing the lovely 'ickle bunny and continued on. My fond memories brought to a halt as I remember the poor brown shape that lay on the same road two days before. The rabbit had gone, AND the bastard has stolen my MP3 player.
So after being mugged, and slowly being convinced nature is a hoodie, I decide to take the back route to my house, now this involves climbing an overgrown hedge and traversing a tree and THEN clambering over the fence. I haven't done this for a few years and forgot what neglect can do to both a body and a back entrance. I swung over some nettles using an overhead branch, and then pulled myself up the bank using another branch, pleased at my efforts I smiled, peered over the fence to realise, this was not my house. Nor was the one to the left or right of me, in fact my house was 2 houses along from this one. Obviously in precautions for the Thieving ferrets or scheming squirrels of the neighbourhood, this branch was fitted with an anti burglar device and broke, I, thinking fast reached for the overhead branch, unfortunately my ankle had attracted some thorns and this stopped me from avoiding the fall, tearing my jeans and causing me to fall into a mixture of nettles and rocks. Disgruntled I walked around and came in the front door, where I proceeded to write to you. Because I care about you and don't want you to get mugged by a rabbit, assaulted by a vine or tricked by a pheasant.
So in conclusion, Stay inside make less attempts to change your routine, because nature is a bully who wants your dinner money.
Joe Strange
Proceeding outside can cause many side effects, worst of all the horrible growth known as a social life, you have been warned.
Now to this weeks topic.
Today, on one of my many walks around my village, I decided to take a scenic route to my house, as oppose to the straight line that I normally take. A straight line to and from somewhere? Why that's impossible! I disagree, While turning on the spot may, to passers by, make you look like an indecisive fool, it has it's uses if you live in a relatively linear village. So, I walked straight passed my house and went down A delightful country lane. Down this lane I happened upon a majestic, colourful, regal pigeon, well a large pigeon, it could very well have been a pheasant. Anyway, this inquisitive creature was poking around a garden, most likely trying to find a way into the abode to steal an MP3 player, I hear they fetch a high price on the foul market.
Now, as I live in the estate of the village and only ever leave to go to college or work this was a rare sight for me. I reached for my camera to catch the culprit in the act of theft, but I was too slow and it hopped to the next garden, I proceed to pursue the thief but was outmatched by the fact that god preferred them over us and gave birds wings.
The sad thing is I will most likely see that bird on the nearby road since people insist on driving 1,000,000 MPH along my village.
And then, continuing my walk, having had a bitter taste of wildlife "photography" and by the term I mean pointing the camera at the bird, and then catching only the garden as it has flown away. (A very nice garden it is too.) I grasp my camera looking for more fluffy creatures or more of gods examples of favouritism. not long was I strolling along the meandering lane as I stopped, looked down to my feet and saw a small wild rabbit staring at me in the face. This brought back fond memories of when I was walking along the road to work and stopped, looked down to see a small brown rabbit staring me down, I stepped cautiously to try not to startle it it bolted towards the road, and then back into the hedge, once again I cursed god for not giving me that comically quick movement, I smiled at seeing the lovely 'ickle bunny and continued on. My fond memories brought to a halt as I remember the poor brown shape that lay on the same road two days before. The rabbit had gone, AND the bastard has stolen my MP3 player.
So after being mugged, and slowly being convinced nature is a hoodie, I decide to take the back route to my house, now this involves climbing an overgrown hedge and traversing a tree and THEN clambering over the fence. I haven't done this for a few years and forgot what neglect can do to both a body and a back entrance. I swung over some nettles using an overhead branch, and then pulled myself up the bank using another branch, pleased at my efforts I smiled, peered over the fence to realise, this was not my house. Nor was the one to the left or right of me, in fact my house was 2 houses along from this one. Obviously in precautions for the Thieving ferrets or scheming squirrels of the neighbourhood, this branch was fitted with an anti burglar device and broke, I, thinking fast reached for the overhead branch, unfortunately my ankle had attracted some thorns and this stopped me from avoiding the fall, tearing my jeans and causing me to fall into a mixture of nettles and rocks. Disgruntled I walked around and came in the front door, where I proceeded to write to you. Because I care about you and don't want you to get mugged by a rabbit, assaulted by a vine or tricked by a pheasant.
So in conclusion, Stay inside make less attempts to change your routine, because nature is a bully who wants your dinner money.
Joe Strange
Proceeding outside can cause many side effects, worst of all the horrible growth known as a social life, you have been warned.
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