On Thin Ice

I have moved on from bikes, 1 down, 4 to go

Those of you that are regular readers of this blog will remember I was particularly accident prone whilst living in Spain, in that I destroyed or lost at least 5 bicycles that I had purchased from Mike the Bike.
I wrote off my new car on Friday evening and can only hope I have not begun a new bad habit; mangling cars I have bought.

On the journey home from work on Friday evening I skidded on some black ice and seconds later I found myself careering towards a ditch at gathering pace. The moments before impact seem to last an age and I remember thinking just before I went into the ditch, ‘this could hurt’ (albeit after I imagined Beyonce and Rihanna getting jiggy with it).


My last image before impact, well it had moved on a little from here perhaps....



Fortunately (or not depending on your point of view) I was not hurt as the trusty new James Bond motor took all the impact for me which sadly resulted in her being declared ‘legally dead’ by my insurance company. The bonnet & bumper were torn off, all the air bags had exploded and the steering is now looser than Ulrika Johnson.

I can’t say I wasn’t warned, every day my parents have informed me when it is freezing or when black ice was due but I still got caught out. The locals were fantastic, all stopping to assist me, making sure I was ok and getting the nearest tractor to pull the car out of the ditch and moving it to her final resting place, the scrapyard.

Driving in Ireland is difficult enough without inclement weather making it harder. On the drive to & from work I have already encountered.

1. An oil tanker overtaking a school bus on icy roads on a bend.
2. A car doing 18mph on a road where the speed limit is 75 mph but with no overtaking opportunities causing a 3 mile convoy.
3. A number of animals but chiefly cows wandering around on the road.
4. Tractors on a motorway, JCB’s without lights on a main dual carriageway at evening times and of course the School bus which was not fitted with any brake lights.

Add in to the mix my recent driving has been in Spain and that I have been reading too much Jeremy Clarkson recently I guess an ‘incident’ was inevitable. Still I came out unscathed and that is something that I and my bookmaker are grateful for.

Other than writing off cars things have been going well. I didn’t get what I wanted from Santa but that was either because I had been a naughty boy or that it’s too difficult to wrap up a blow job.
Santa also didn’t get me Sky Sports which is ok because my new best friend Benny has a subscription and a decent log fire.

Benny is 70 + and lives in the nearest house to ours with his dog ‘spot’ who is also 70+. I have never met a more disabled animal in my life (spot I mean), he wobbles with every step he takes, is totally unsteady on his legs, is deaf in both ears and the eye sight is going; I often look at him and ponder my future.

Work is ticking over nicely with many exciting new projects and plans keeping me enthused. I am constantly reminding myself of Marco Pierre Whites quote from ‘White Slave’,

Perfection is lots of little things done well. It doesn’t matter what you spend as long as you get the desired effect.

I kept this quote in mind when I was assigned with going to Cheltenham for the weekend just before Christmas to entertain some of our customers.
The firm needed someone to drink a few beers, eat a few meals, gamble a lot and entertain people, who would have thought I would be any good at that?
One of the customers got so drunk he was left at the track whilst another went home after a full days drinking, played a poker tournament on the site and won just shy of 50 grand, life is full of fine margins.

Just before Christmas I was in the newsagents desperately looking for a last minute secret Santa present. As is usual in these situations I went for the traditional favorite, Alcohol.

So there I am bobbing my head around the drinks cabinet in the local petrol station/local store and I plum for a half bottle of vodka. The assistant shakes her head and says no, I look a little perplexed but go for the gin instead. This time when the assistant says no she informs the store cannot sell alcohol at 7.30am.
Now this I have no problem with, it was the 15 or so school children who were looking at me in complete disgust that I had a problem with. It was a quick judgment call and perhaps I choose unwisely when I lashed out and said “one day you’ll understand” instead of just denying the attempted purchase was not for me.

I’m still living with the parents and it’s looking increasingly likely that the only way I will be removed from the family home is by court order. Don’t laugh, I suspect my parents of beginning proceedings already.

Like most people I have made a few New Years Resolutions.
Get laid is number one, three, four and eight, nine and ten.
Also I intend to get fitter, play more golf and take up more of the offers I get from the neighbors, locals & parents friends to go fox-hunting, shooting & fishing all need to be ticked off before summer.

I watch very little TV these days with the internet providing most of my entertainment now. For those of you who are fans of Ramsey check out his best dish yet, sort off.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=hA98Pl3pfk8

The other great love of the moment is football. Listening to Football on the wireless was something I grew up on and I forgot how much I enjoyed it. As well as cheering on Chelsea in the most thrilling league title battle for a while I’m as always massively funking against Liverpool and now have a financial involvement in a club, Sunderland. (They are sponsored by my employees).


Go on dwight my son. Sporting Legend 1.

I recently met up with one of the spice boys and he regaled me with a great tale about a young Lady from Longford, a small town in the south of Ireland.

Apparently a mutual friend of ours was there recently, stopping in a hotel on a work venture. In the bar later he met the said young lady and a passionate relationship began. They moved from the bar to her room where the bedroom gymnastics were about to begin. Our hero began with the simple ear kissing and neck caressing technique. Next up was the standard move to the breast, a nibble and a caress and he’s working his way south for the ultimate foreplay adventure. As he is snaking his way further south, just past the belly button in fact he feels a searing pain at the top of his head and realizes his hair has been pulled and within a flash his eyes are met by hers with his hair still in her grip; he is greeted with the immortal line

‘Forget your fancy shite and just throw it up me’.

I hope our hero bought protection beforehand; I used a lavatory in a bar and was amused by the condom machine stuck in the corner. The first 4 or 5 choices were as you expected, condoms sizes, small, medium and show off.
Then there was the obviously flavored condoms for the girl that needs to be coaxed (has the line ‘go on love, it smells of strawberry’ ever worked?).

It was the last item offered that chuckled me. What do young men in Ireland get offered that haven’t got lucky? A packet of M&M’s is the answer. (No wonder im getting fatter).

This time last year I was in Australia and thoroughly enjoying myself by beating young Australians (ages varied between 13 and 4) at cricket so badly that some of them began crying, New Year, same problem.
On Boxing Day my family and I spent the evening with some good friends and their children. Uncle Paul thought he would show 12 year old Joe some cunning moves in pro-wrestling, something Joe was a fan off.
Uncle Paul thought the old favorite of Giant Haystacks would be a good one to try on Joe in front of our respective families. I genuinely thought that while I was lying across him pinning all my weight onto his ribcage that he was laughing. It turned out that grunts were sobs that turned into fully blown weeping once I had got off him. While I embarrassingly tried to ingratiate myself back into favor with young Joe all 12 people in the room just looked at my in complete and utter silence (or was it perhaps disgust?). I may give up playing sport against children.

Style guru and sporting legend 2.

Finally a message of good luck and good will to an old favorite that’s making a return, no not my erection but one Kevin of Keegan. I loved King Kev as a player, on superstars, as a manager and then as a pundit. I get suckered in by people that are, hopelessly passionate and there are few more passionate than this bloke, a true sporting legend.


Howay geordie lad, King Kev, sporting legend 3.