on the lamberts

greetings

i feel it has been a reasonable amount of time since i gone done a post on the subject of cigarettes so, with little else to write of, time for another. for those of you who(m) pay the slightest bit of interest to anything i write, let me remind you that smoking is (very) bad for you, look you see, and you should either never take up the habit (or hobby) or cease (quit) immediately. help is available, apparently, only just not so much as if you were doing heroin, or some other thing which society deems rather more acceptable. 

with that out of the way, yes, another foray into the world of the more modest (as in sensibly) priced cigarettes procured from independent importers and distributors. yes, quite probably all within the realms (if not remit) of "not legal", but if i ask no questions i get to keep a nice, quiet life in which i can continue to smoke. probably should stop (as in quit), yet no. 

how the world changes. once it was so (say late 80s, more plausibly early 90s) that lambert and butler, which are the ones (cigarettes) i am currently "on" (smoking) were seen as a sort of cheap and cheerful brand, a sub-par smoking experience. back then it was the likes of embassy, regal, of course marlboro, benson and hedges and what not which were "proper". if you had the misfortune to be in that there London (innit) then of course you smoked silk cut, unless you were royalty (or nobility) and then it was pure john player specials, carrying as they did the royal seal (or warrant if that is the right term). of course now the re-branded "players" are cheap, whereas lambert and butler have a strange resonance of a posher brand than they ever were. 

make no mistake, these ones what i have are 100% counterfeit. there are telling (or if you will warning) signs, all fairly easy to spot. for a start, or to commence, the boxes are not sturdy at all, made of a cardboard so thin it would pass as paper. the font use is ever so slightly off, and the "foil" paper in the packets is either silver or a somewhat dull gold. as in not the same across all packets. you can't really make it out in the above (VHS mode) image, but on the cigarettes themselves that's not the generic, plain text font what is supposed to be used. 

certainly more effort has been put into the appearance of these than, say, the hit and miss Manchester ones i took a shine to, but at least them ones had a pretty solid, or if you will "proper", box. these cost me the same as those Manchester ones, which is a flat £5 per packet. i do believe in some parts of our land they can cost more, but then again also i have heard tales of the Manchester ones being sold for even less ("fewer") that the agreeably cheap price i have paid for them. 

this pricing tells you all of the absurdity of the pricing for "real" cigarettes, and why independent distributors here are both in proliferation and quite successful. for those not in the know, the price for these is south of one third of the cost of "real" ones down the shops. yes, that is how much us smokers get f****d over. and when they have destroyed entire the market for "legal" cigarettes in this country, know that they will be coming for you, be it your drink, food or whatever they believe they can punish you for with little beyond a murmur of disappointment. 

quite peculiar (or somewhat strange) that all "warnings", it seems, on the cigarettes i procure pertain to how it may affect my private parts, or winkie, or whatever you may wish to call male bits. here is a link to the most recent packs cautioning the same. one would assume this means as much to a lady smoker as the warnings about smoking whilst pregnant mean to me. nice that even the bootleggers are concerned for us in this regard, and indeed the "duty free" thing is a lovely touch. 

fairly recently there was a lovely "puff piece" (so to speak) in the news, concerning a "nationwide raid" on shops what sell things like vapes not meeting "standards", and cigarettes. with a straight face some spokesperson said that these independent cigarettes were "not as safe" as "legitimate ones". i believe that they meant "not as profitable for the government". realistically they likely hit all of "fewer" than 1% of such independent businesses, and even then ones thrown to them. it's like drug mules on a plane, those packing people with narcotics tip off the authorities about one of them so the others they have placed on the same flight waltz straight through customs. just the illusion of a victory on "the war on" whatever they don't like at the moment. 

do i feel at all upset about how purchasing "independent" cigarettes (such as these) is in some way funding criminals, terrorists, most probably the Russian war effort? well, i am not happy about it, but needs must. i could be flippant and say "look how government squanders the money from taxes". after all, official smoking figures are at their lowest ("fewest") and the NHS is more totes f****d than ever, when in the 80s and 90s all we heard was how once smoking was reducing how brilliant the NHS, free of treating smokers, would be. 

should it really be so that those absolute pr!cks, w@nker$ and freeloaders in government really, really wish to stop people purchasing "independent" cigarettes, there's an easy way to do it. right now, and yes i am including travel costs, if you fly to somewhere like Spain, Greece or some Eastern European nation, purchase a carton (10 packs of 20 cigarettes each) of Marlboro - not duty free, but from a shop - and fly back you would have saved £100 cost on buying the same quantity in the UK. no, of course they won't reduce the price here. that filthy lucre, all that lovely money, is too addictive for them. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

books

now then

so yes i have, since the last post on a similar (as in exactly the same) subject, i have read two (2) further novels, look you see. books, if you will, but i do like to say "novels" (i think) as it would be rather rare for me to read non-fiction. i take it as something of a given that i am reasonably far from being alone, in an unusual change of how it normally is, in wishing to avoid the realities of life as much as possible. 

for those of you have not ever (never) read one of my posts on books and are, for some reason, still reading this after the rather convoluted opening paragraph, a pretty standard pattern shall follow. just now there should be a pic of the books what i read, and then a bit of a "good or bad" comment for anyone in a rush or, importantly, wanting to avoid 'spoilers'. the likelihood of someone opting to read a book on my say so is rather limited, but here we are. 

going left to right, since that is the order in what i gone done read them, Close To Death off of Anthony Horowitz is outstandingly, absurdly funny and a sheer joy. next is The Blue Hour off of Paula Hawkins, and this was one truly exceptional novel. judging or ranking things of subjective, artistic nature is quite the folly, but i would suggest this is the equal of her (up to now) masterpiece, The Girl On The Train. 

right, then. i shall try and limit such of this as much as i can, but do be warned, for safety i shall go ahead and put a *** SPOILER WARNING *** in place for the remainder of this post. 

commencing, to say it again, where i did with these novels is to have a bit of a gander at Close To Death off of Anthony Horowitz. for those of you who only read this to discover (or learn) the provenance of my choice in books, yes, i do believe this was off of Tesco, likely when it first came out and was at "book of the week" price. well, i think that's the provenance. either this one or the one before it was bought for me by a good friend off of WH Smith (don't look for it, it's not there any more). should it be Tesco, then with that "club card" thing i would believe it was £4.50. 

plot? it's another episode featuring a (hopefully) fictionalised version of the author working with detective Hawthorne, writing the story of another investigation to the delight of the publisher if not the author himself. a bit different in this instance, for with no current case being investigated and a demanding publisher's deadline looming the writer has little choice but to delve into a case from long before the two of them met. Hawthorne does not want him to write it, the author does not want to write it, but onwards they go......

it truly is comedy gold, this one. the funniest part (or parts) is (are) when we get breaks in the the decidedly half hearted attempt Horowitz is making to write the novel to get criticism from those who have read it to tell him how awful and wrong it all is. somehow being told just how bad the book you are reading it makes it all the more enjoyable. bonus points for pulling off the remarkable act of "breaking the 4th wall" in a novel, when ostensibly all of a novel should do such. from memory, and i am not checking, the only time i can think of an author directly "speaking" (or writing, i suppose) to the reader outside of the context of the novel (in the midst of it) was The French Lieutenant's Woman. likely it has been done before and since, and sorry if it was not in that novel. risks come with my memory. 

doing comparisons is always a bit dodgy, but all the same these Hawthorne novels by Anthony Horowitz are of the same quintessentially English comedy genius of the likes of Monty Python, Douglas Adams and Peter Cook. the mixture of a really good, compelling "whodunnit" detective story with frequently self-depreciating humour is just jolly well splendid. i strongly recommend reading all of these books, preferably in the order they were published. 

we (or just me if everyone has stopped reading) go on, then, to the second of two novels. that, then, if you have forgotten, is The Blue Hour off of Paula Hawkins. no, you are not mistaken, in quite rare circumstances this is a hardback what i gone done read. usually i wait for the paperback, as generally i find it cumbersome to read the hardback edition. and the paperbacks are cheaper. the reason for the change is very much to do with book provenance. i was in that there London (innit) place, having dinner (lunch, if posh) at a Tesco. with parking being a premium in the city it was so that Tesco had a £5 minimum spend to qualify for free parking. my meal deal cost £3.60, i wasn't in the mood for browsing for something costing precisely £1.40, noticed this on the shelf for £8.50 (or possibly £8.75) and figured yeah, sure, go on, i will take it rather than wait for the paperback.

plot? my thoughts are it is deceptively simple when seeming complex, yet also i am struggling to phrase it all in such a way that i don't give much of anything away. essentially, i suppose, it all revolves around a deceased artist and some of her works of art apparently being missing. which leads to a stand off between the Estate which has inherited them and the impromptu friend / doctor of the artist who has assumed a kind of quasi curatorship over them.......

i really, really liked just about every aspect of this novel. well, ok, yeah, the straying into what one might (or possibly) call Jilly Cooper territory with "relationships of the rich and shameless" felt somewhat unnecessary, yet i suppose critical to one character's particular motivations. again, sorry if that's a clumsy sentence and says little, but i am doing my best to keep thoughts on this magnificent novel spoiler free. 

a favourite aspect of it all was the "art for art's sake" stuff. well, you know what i mean. there's a bit where one work left by the artist might need to be examined by the constabulary, which prompts all sorts of questions (with good or bad intentions) about if this desecrates, demeans or even destroys what the artist left behind. further, the author clearly had fun p!ssing about with the nonsensical, flamboyant and whimsical phrases "art critics" are so prone to use. people what make a living as art critics are just, rather like "wine experts", just really, really good at conjuring up outlandish phrases. 

both of these novels, then, were outstanding. no, i don't think i will go the hardback road again, thanks, whilst reading this one wasn't all that uncomfortable. probably as i am just chilled at lodgings in my place of exile these days, rather than travelling around. if for some reason you want a form of guidance of me, then of course the one from these two to go for immediately is the Paula Hawkins one, for you need not have read any other books to "get" or understand this. the joys of a standalone, not part of an expanded universe thing novel are to be embraced. yet yes, it is most decidedly so that all of the Anthony Horowitz books featuring his fictional self and detective chum (of sorts) are all quite wonderful reads. 

once again, or as usual, absolutely no idea if anything in this sort of post (books) what i gone done is of any interest, but i suppose the same could be said of all posts. no matter, thank you very much indeed for reading. or just looking at the pics.

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

high roller

hello there

of all that is true of our (mostly) perplexing world it is most decidedly so that we live with measure of control which easily meet the criteria of double standards. more levels than that, look you see, but long since has it been that anyone has the patience to count too far. here in the UK we famously have such on offer by the ruling government of the day. ostensibly they (the government) are supposed to be subservient to the people, elected to serve for the safety, security and betterment of we, the people. instead it is so most of us are subject to attempts to kill us all off, with the only exceptions being the protected TfL employees and, recently, Scunthorpe based steel workers. should you doubt this, cast your eyes upon how they are presently trying to kill off the entire population of Birmingham with a plague of rats. 

it should be no surprise, then, that "vices" (or if you will "entertainment" or "leisure activities") are similarly treated in different ways. whenever i feel the need (or compelled) to write of smoking it is so that i get the sense i am obliged to put a disclaimer in, warning of the dangers, so convincing has been the campaign to convince the masses that absolutely everything wrong with the world is all down to cigarettes. betting or gambling, however, appears (somewhat alarmingly) encouraged. you get adverts for it everywhere, various sports teams are happily sponsored by betting companies and bookies, as they are colloquially called, seem to dominate most of what remains of high streets. 

quite strange, this. my smoking really only damages me (moi) in the long term. oh yes, the plausible yet still unproven "second hand smoke" thing, which sees people over the road from you conditioned to do a little "cough" when they spot you smoking, somehow unaffected by the cars, buses and vans passing by. and yet as you are reading this (as in right now) someone is making a betting / gambling decision which will, in seconds, destroy their lives and anyone dependant on them. like families. but hey, advertise away. 

so yes, there's a distinct level of double standards here (if not outright hypocrisy) in that i am writing of a most triumphant gambling success. as in i placed a bet and i, for want of another word, won. 

exactly how much did i win? that you can observe in the (thermal style) picture above. with bourgeois opulence i am indeed showing off that i won 97 large, or 97 big ones. if, of course, you deem "pence" in proper pound sterling money to be either "large" or "big". 

how did i come to amass this fortune? well, by doing what i would usually do, only on a smaller scale. think that "less is more" thing off Jerry Maguire, only different. my normal approach is to put an accumulator ("acca") on 15 - 20 results, placing 25p on it in the hope all (football) results are correct, delivering a hefty pay out. when (invariably) this does not work, i have lost 25p, but had fun all the same keeping an eye on football scores i would not usually have given a flying f*** about. 

perversely it was a really, really late, as in more last second that last minute, goal off of, of all teams, Coventry that secured my famous, if not celebrated, win. this leaves me in a peculiar position of being somewhat thankful that a Coventry exists. before this bet was placed it was so that Coventry was only really known for three (3) things -

* ruining a perfectly good Monty Python joke by winning the FA Cup in 1987

* traditionally it's only Christmas when the tape of Coventry Carol by Chas n Dave is played

* year after year the single most searched for news story on the internet is "have they finally gotten around to demolishing Coventry yet?". 

rather mixed feelings, then, obviously, but obviously yes i claimed the money all the same. 

do i have any immediate (or long term) plans for this filthy lucre? it would be apt to spend it on cigarettes i suppose, but you won't get all that many with this. for now it's just all sat in my coin tin. well, my new coin tin, since a misfortune befell the one i had used for a few years. 

yes, i certainly am still doing these (those) "acca" bets. once you get a taste for the high stakes, big time wins like this you can't just wash it away and pretend it didn't happen. be careful if you follow this path. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

pedantic poetry pottery

greetings

usually, or perhaps generally, i am not all that good at games, look you see. mostly i would only play such for the fun of it, look you see, lacking any ambition, intention or desperation to "win". not all would agree or go along with this approach, but there you go. 

what is infuriating (or annoying), for me at least, is when the game is so heavily stacked against you there's precisely zero (0) chance of "winning". or competing, for that matter. such happened to me (at time of writing) about a month ago with one of them New York Times games. observe, if you will. 

yes, it's that blue one on the "connections" game. as in words "said" to have no exact rhymes. well, off the top of my head, three (3) do. you shall have to either indulge or forgive me here, for, as i have pointed out before, i am an english literature student (two degrees, actually), not a homosexual. poetry is not a strong point then, but......

as the diary turns i exhale in exile a sad harumph

in solitude, still, for yet one more month

my throat scorched, i reach for a lozenge

surprisingly shaded a sandy orange

i stand wistfully, forever outside a circle

gazing at a sky enflamed, all purple 

no, probably not my best efforts. if i did put some effort in (or just gone done a google) i may well have found a rhyme for silver, but still, how can i guess an answer that is incorrect? 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kula shaker supporting ocean colour scene

howdy pop pickers

so yes indeed, another gig to write of. and what a fair dinkum double bill it was, look you see. the title more or less ("fewer") tells the tale, but indeed it was so that i went and saw Ocean Colour Scene, who(m) had very kindly brought top band Kula Shaker along for the ride as the ostensible support act. 

certainly, as has (alas) become the case, there's a few really, really bad images coming up. and, of course, some even (more) worse video. blimey the Samsung A14 is truly hideous. how i wish that LG would make phones again, theirs were excellent. right, let me get back on track, so to speak. 

this was, neither remarkably nor oddly, the first time i had any practical chance to go see the full tilt variation of Ocean Colour Scene. i had twice (here and here) been to see Simon and Oscar do their acoustic set. both of those (splendid) gigs gave me chance to hear almost all of my top tunes from the band, with particular emphasis on Travellers Tune. when the band entire has been on tour the venues and dates have been "tricky". would have loved to see them at Newcastle City Hall, for instance, as it's a boss venue, but the date for their most recent gig there was 21 December, which i felt rather too close to Christmas and, if we are honest, too close to that celebrated day in Newcastle, "black eye friday". 

anyway, the chance to (very much) see them on an agreeable date, within walking distance of my lodgings in this era of exile and with only a limited chance of getting punched in the face came along. so i did, and as indicated for good measure got to see Kula Shaker too. 

out there somewhere (possibly close to you) is the world's biggest Kula Shaker fan. this, alas, is not me. but, despite what you might think based on news and the dynamics of the way we are now influenced to view things, we are not in a world of extremes. whereas no, i wasn't the hugest fan, i did, like many others (and it is nice and peculiar to be not in a minority), consider them quite class. 

my working knowledge of them was (is) somewhat limited. had i been on Pop Master and had to name three of their songs in 10 (ten) seconds i might have just managed it, remembering Tattva, Hush, Govinda and of course Hey Dude. of those tunes, their recording of Hush remains the second best version of it, with the top one being PM Dawn using it for Downtown Venus, and the original incarnation by Deep Purple, or if you will the Perps, being a respectable third. yes, to celebrate this, some truly dire video footage from my terrible phone. 

i was really, really impressed with the Kula Shaker set. rather solid, excellent pacing to the tunes they took and the whole band full tilt threw themselves into the performance. as in no, this was no "here to make up the numbers" support set or anything like that; they gave me and probably many others a timely reminder that they are a most smart rock band. to my disappointment no, there wasn't, at least as far as i could hear, a dedicated fan screaming "Crispian" throughout the set, and also no so far as i am aware it was not so that Haley popped by to watch. quite a shame, as she would have liked it. 

with respect to the set i can totes remember them doing three (3) of the ones i mentioned. possibly they did indeed do all 4 (four) i knew, but perhaps missed Govinda whilst either listening out for anyone who(m) might be shouting "Crispian" or was at the bar. 

costs of gig and refreshments? well, the "ostensible" cost of the ticket for the gig was £40, plus "fees" and some sort of insurance. for the former it is well documented elsewhere that these "fees" they add on have some vague justification. as to the latter and the "insurance" is if you have to cancel going to the gig for any reason whatsoever, just so long as it is not on their extensive list of reasons which do not count as being valid. quite a waste, but i click it anyway. if we say £50, pretty good value, even if the Globe at Stockton (on Tees) is notorious for having most peculiar attendees. 

yes that is me enjoying a pint. by chance Eddie Baby was in a celebrated city in Ireland (to be sure) and by some stroke of luck he found a pub there, so we exchanged pint for pint pics. cost of a pint of camdens pale ale inside the Globe was £6, or £11 for a two pint pot, which appeared to get drunk as fast as a singular pint did. considering a pint of the same at the 100 Club recently was £6.60, well, i did really think the north-south divide would be more than 60p. some friends have told me off for actually using the bar at the Globe, pointing out the pubs over the road charge south of one half of that cost for the same thing. maybe they have a point, but it just seemed easier to get a couple in whilst there. 

believe it or not that is really an image what i took of Ocean Colour Scene. not the best quality is it, but you just hold on for the video below. 

they, the band (Ocean Colour Scene) did a solid, all right, decent enough set. i do not mean that to sound like a negative. this was never, ever going to be the best gig what i had ever seen, and there was never any realistic danger of it being the worst. mostly the set was same difference as the acoustic shows i had been to. yet it was a sheer delight to hear Travellers Tune full tilt, with it remaining one of the greatest and most beautiful songs what i have ever heard. in respect of the rock songs they don't do acoustic, i have never been bothered by Riverboat Song (too repetitive for me), but my word how excellent it was to hear them let rip with Hundred Mile High City. 

unfortunately no, the excellence of it isn't quite captured in the above clip, but still, if you are desperate for a vague kind of sense of what it is like, there it is. 

often i have heard people say that the biggest problem with the Stockton Globe (if you leave aside beer prices) is the idea that they "over sell" tickets, which is to say dangerously sell more than the capacity should really have. this i doubt. some of the problem is the security is absolutely sh!t, as observed at Adam Ant a while back. i have no doubt people what bought seated tickets just sneaked in to the standing area without getting stopped. also, truly strange behaviour at gigs at the Globe. there's that class bit of tape on the box set 30 Years Of Maximum R&B off of The Who where Pete Townshend shouts at the crowd to "f*****g shut up", telling them it's "supposed to be a f*****g rock and roll concert not a f*****g tea party". it was baffling to see so many people aimlessly wandering backwards and forwards, up and down at the gig, or just gathering and having a conversation through most of the set. being fair they paid for the ticket, good luck, but it's a bit much when it impacts on anyone who bought a ticket for a gig to see the actual gig. 

pretty good night out overall, then. not sure i would go and see either band at the Globe again, but would love to see them at, say, Newcastle City Hall, where the crowds do tend to be there mostly to actually watch (and of course listen to) the band. it just shows how opulent and wealthy Stockton must be if people can afford north of £40 each to just have a bit of a stroll and chat to mates. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

nhs blue box

hello there

well, mostly blue, look you see. i suppose if one were to take a ruler, or similar, to it there may well be as much white as there is blue to this. the address and what have you is in black, which would seem to take up a fair percentage too. you know what, this is rather distracting from what i wished to write. 

full well is it that i understand not too many are particularly interest in my plight. also, any instances of poor, poor pitiful me (or sentimental hygiene for that matter) are incidental, with no real ambition to evoke some sort of interest (or sympathy). i just thought all of this might be of some use, or interest, or possibly even reassurance to someone what got a similar box and had taken to google. 

pretty much as all here has stated, then, a blue (and other colours) box arrived in the post for me. well, not directly to moi. it went to my previous residence, where i was prior to this era of exile. no, i had not changed my address with a doctor (or the NHS) since entering this unusual time. didn't really see any point to it. long ago it was i gave up on the NHS. whereas i am a significant contributor to the cost of the whole inefficient mess they make it clear they have no wish to see me. any ailment that i approached a doctor with - a severed limb, for instance, or some other wound - would get from them the response that if i were to quit smoking and lose weight then i would be healed. 

despite using the quality of VHS mode for the above image i did (as a precaution) elect to obscure, if not censor, the address details. for this i have used a recently acquired (south of £5) tape (actual) of something called the EastEnders Singalong Album. no idea how this one passed me by in the 80s. the main motivation for purchasing this was to hear "horny" Pete Beale do a song called Barrow Boy. for those interested, and to provide an entirely unexpected musical interlude, below is a bit of video of the song playing on the tape. 

since i am once again distracted, changing one's address with the NHS is quite difficult. they do get all excited about what you can do with their "app" thing, but no, you cannot change your address with it, or rather on it. some searching dans le internet said i had to contact my current doctor (or GP) and get them to make the change. with it being tricky to visit them, i simply posted a letter asking for their assistance, giving them the details. to their credit they responded the day after i posted the letter. somewhat less ("fewer") to their credit all they said was that based on my new address i was no longer a patient of theirs, and that i should "use the internet" to find one close to me. did that, i think i am registered with a close by doctor and i hope my current address is now all updated. part of the celebrated laws of the English way of doing things is to make this needlessly complicated. 

no, i did not rush to open this box up then. mostly this was down to a suspicion that whatever was in it was being kept "sterile" or similar, and i saw little sense in rushing to open it whilst remaining in a sense of doubt as to if they had my address. being honest, there was also some hesitancy, as clearly their intention (if not ambition) was to test me for something or other. anyway, once reasonably sure that they would likely have the right address for me, on i went. 

yes, sure, part of the reason to put the above picture here was to showcase that blue i was talking (or writing, pedantic fans) about. granted, in retrospect a lot of the box is white, but still, it's the blue what seems more striking. moving on and, as you can (kind of) see in the above, the packaging seems to go to some lengths telling me where not to open it. perhaps it would be diplomatic to suggest this is done so as to ensure tests get done properly, but more likely it is them (rightly or wrongly) assuming the overwhelming majority of this country are (as point of fact) f*****g idiots, needing to have our hands held and be nursed at all times. 

what, exactly, did i expect to find in the box? my assumption was it was one of them "pin prick" blood tests. this was based on some offering from verk where they did a test for 20 or so things based on a submitted blood sample. i never did that one as it took longer than you might think to get myself weighed, which was a requirement. actually, in advance of this i did get weighed, and discovered that i have lost some 2 or 3 (possibly more) stone (no idea on metric) in two or three years. not that i have tried. getting weighed was tricker than it should have been. i reasonably assumed that a chemist with a pharmacy would have a scale, so in to one i duly went. they seem more confused than perplexed that anyone would want to know what they weighed, as if no good could come from such knowledge. eventually a rather stylishly dressed pharmacist, clearly having overhead the conversation, appeared with a set of scales and invited me to use them. 

oh. right. not a "pin prick" (or even an armful of) blood test then. well, to be fair, actually i think they are looking for blood, just not where it would usually be found. since the above image is not in VHS mode i would imagine what they needed from moi is reasonably clear. if not, or should you wish to have it spelled (spelt?) out, they required a "stool" sample. you know, poop. from a number two. for those requiring it (admittedly censored) more directly, they very much wished to have some of my sh!t. 

this is to test for bowel cancer. i believe there's a somewhat alarming increase in cases of this, mostly among(st) the young, and i think i saw on the news they believe it may be related to "protein diets", which i am certainly not on. my assumption, going ton when they sent this out, is that they opted to offer the chance of a test to me based on my similar to a deck of cards present age. 

getting this sample was going to be tricky. they had provided instructions, and their caution was that one could not simply shove the stick into excrement in a toilet (lavatory, if posh) as apparently it was seriously important that the sample had not touched toilet water. by chance i had an unused, and of course would never actually use again "food container" box in the cupboard. yes, as a nice distraction for you, the tape (actual) used to hide my details in this instance is the fabulous soundtrack for the 1982 brilliant Australian (g'day) film Starstruck. or Star Struck. it is a source of frustration to me that the soundtrack never got released on CD (hence the tape) and that the film is not widely available.

being blunt, frank (yet not Mr Sinatra) or direct, as it turned out (and you may wish to skip this part) the act (or art) of sh!tt!ng in a box was more complex and involved than i had anticipated. this was rather surprising, and kudos to them who do this frequently so as to post it (for whatever reason) to a wide range of politicians, rival football managers and what have you. i have a whole new level of respect for those who elect (or opt) to express their displeasure in such a convoluted way. 

it, as in the sample, and with no further graphic details, got done. from what i could tell (or ascertain) done exactly as they required, and popped (so to speak) in the liquid filled "sample" or specimen thing that they provided. should it be that i have to do similar again then i will totes get a bigger receptacle or what have you for it. maybe a cheap cat litter tray, or possibly the desk of a former employer or the bonnet ("hood", if American) of car belonging to someone i believe that i have a score to settle with. quite likely the cat litter tray idea, but one must indulge the occasional daydream.   

ultimately i don't think the word "scared" feels right. there is a sense of trepidation, i suppose. i would not say i have ever been flippant but blasé would be fair in regards of any possibility of cancer entering my life. being entirely honest, well, with my enthusiasm for smoking (sorry) whenever i had briefly given passing thought to the subject i just accepted mouth or (more likely) lung cancer would be a thing to face, if not some heart issues. at no stage did it occur to me to get tested for anything, instead being resigned (or accepting) that i have rolled the dice, i must accept how they land. 

posted, then, this sample has now been. not really sure it was (entirely) necessary to censor (or cloak) the address to where it is going, but all the same nice to showcase just one of the tape copies of The Joshua Tree off of U2 i have. no, not any intended symbolic reason for using a copy of this album, just seemed like a good idea when i took the pictures. 

lately, and for some reasonable time (more than i would care to confess) i have found myself letting my mind linger on all that i have lost; on all that is lost to me. over Christmas a young lad living not far away from my place of exile clearly got a new bicycle. as i stood having a cigarette (sorry) i watched him flying (well, riding at speed) on it, clearly with a big smile. that sense of freedom from doing so touched a sense of nostalgia i didn't know was there. i see couples, families and groups of friends walking around, making their way in the world. such makes me lament that this will never be me, this cannot be me. but, as i said, i rolled the dice. perhaps the dice were loaded, but i rolled them all the same. 

kind of disappointed that it wasn't the "blood pin prick" sort of test, partially as it would have been considerably easier but mostly i was rather eager to see how many i failed. don't remember, but if it was 20 things they tested for in that i would have reasonably expected to fail, say, twenty. 

i suppose this is not a rehearsal, or a special effect. should by some miracle or quirk of fate my correct address in exile be updated and i get the test results, yeah, sure, i will put something or other about it here. maybe not with so many tapes, but what else would i do with the information. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

UPDATE

not entirely sure which of you shall see this is a good thing or a bad thing, but with some impressive speed i got the results back. so yes, it seems, they (the NHS) did manage to have my updated address all on record and sorted out. also those reports of you (or one) having to wait several months for them to do anything at all would appear somewhat exaggerated. 

i don't rightly know why, exactly, i went to such tremendous artistic (kind of) lengths to hide my name, for it is not like there's a whole lot of people looking to impersonate me. also it's not like they could do all that worse a job (or what have you) with my life than what i am doing. 

many thanks for reading. 

the monkey

now then

so, a third visit to the cinema for me this year (2025). and one which feasibly could be the last of the year, look you see. more on that as i ramble on, but for clarification it was (a month or so ago) that i went to go and see, as the title of this post suggests, The Monkey. 

for those of you in some sort of rush, or just wish to avoid any (and all) possible spoilers, yes, this film was really good. how good? very. the best way i can describe it is like a classical 80s horror film, yet informed a sort of "meta" knowing homage of this peculiar century. quite extremely yet comically graphic with gore every now and then, so be warned, but well worth it.

plot? two brothers who(m) are not particularly keen on each other come to inherit, from their father, a wind up drum playing monkey. eventually, via some unfortunate events (note that comical but still rather graphic gore and violence warning earlier) they come to the conclusion that the monkey is either cursed or just plain evil. attempts are made to either rid the world of it or see if they can't harness the power of the monkey to do their bidding........

it was, as a priority mention, wonderful to watch this with a cinema audience. somewhat similar to that time i went and saw the brilliance of The Substance, the "violence" was so insane, out there and graphic i could tell the audience like me were at first gasping, unsure if it was appropriate to do so, and then we more or less all had to laugh at some of it. especially, i suppose, the pool bit. back in the 80s i suppose it would have been that me and my mates would have rented this with enthusiasm (no doubt it would have featured in an imported copy of Fangoria), watched, laughed and then rewound the tape to watch the bits we just laughed at again. 

just a generally well paced, effective dark horror comedy for slightly north of 90 minutes. absolutely well worth watching and i am not convinced it really needs all that much more of a review. 

yes, indeed, it was once again off to the joys of the Ealing Project cinema to see this one. on a Tuesday of course, as that's when the tickets are cheaper if not precisely half price. for refreshments i went a slightly bit more modest. from what i recall i got the "large" coke but just the "middle size" popcorn. as i am no longer (or no more) going to that there London (innit) for verk this may well have been my last visit to the place. or any cinema, since the ones near me (except for a community one which seems to show only children's films for holidays and well meaning stuff that i have no interest in) are all but impossible to get to without a farcically expensive bus trip and a mile walk (each way) to get to the cinema after that. oh well. 

rather unlikely that anyone is here to read this for either my plight (see previous paragraph) or trivia, but if you have an interest in the latter, yes this film was based on a Stephen King short story. weirdly in the novel the (cursed) monkey played cymbals, but so many films have paid homage to that since they decided to switch to drums to make it a bit different. that this has happened so frequently to motivate the change perhaps tells you just how good the source material, and this film, are. 

trailers for other films that i would have liked to go to the cinema to see but shall now have to probably wait for the video to come out included Mickey 17, which does look class, Death Of A Unicorn, which looks insane, and oddly Minecraft, with me being more impressed with the general premise and what i saw in the trailer than i had expected to be. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

lynx unity reimagined under renewed review

greetings

it feels like quite some time since i did a review (or what have you) of any sort of lynx deodorant, or fragrance or body spray or whatever they call it now. yes, look you see, i am going to do that thing i do whenever the subject is lynx and declare that i am full tilt aware the branding (or name) of it in certain parts of the world is "axe". 

somewhat unusually it is so that, as the title kind of suggests, i am revisiting one of their vast, diverse range. just slightly south of six years ago (!) was when i first encountered the "unity" style, although it was packaged (branded) quite differently. you are welcome to have a look at the post i did then, which can be achieved by clicking here. 

once again i also further declare that yes, i am (quite) aware of the target market for any lynx (and presumably axe) product is feral teenagers, with the idea that the scent enables or encourages them to be drawn together for quasi mating / breeding purposes. generally it is so that no one over, say, 15 or 16 should be wearing (or using) it, but alas i have not found a "grown up" one that i like. not that i particularly care for all of the lynx ones, with "gold" being my go to. 

looking back on my post (and it is indeed rare that i read my own stuff, no idea how you lot all manage it) and it would seem that in the first instance lynx, with "unity", were rather keen to latch onto all of that "gender fluid" market. whereas then they used "unity" as meaning boys and girls could use it, which doubles a demographic for sales quite nicely, now it's all trying to sell to that mysterious LGBT+ market. to that end, there's a "helpline" number on the tin. not exactly sure what help they offer, or in respect of what concern, but i do happen to know, much to the chagrin of Spiros, it's not a sort of impromptu service dedicated to helping gents find similar minded gents. 

whilst it would be a bit too much to suggest (or declare) the above image as being one of the "lamppost of lesbianism", it all the same feels quite apt to share it here in this post. i must confess it had never occurred to me to use the phrase "sucks fanny" as an insult or in any disparaging way, but here we are. by the way, as usual, for our friends in America, fanny does not mean what you think it does in this instance, and you are using the word all horrendously wrong. 

how does this lynx unity smell? well, on the tin it implies the fragrance (built, apparently, on essential oils) is of a "rose and pear" scent. to be fair it is not as overtly musky like musk as the overwhelming majority of their offerings, but still. it all, to my sense of smell (admittedly eroded by smoking, or at least it is according to curiously unspecified experts), seems to have a scent of zesty lemon, or something along those lines. 

does it work? i don't rightly know what the intention was here. having used it for a couple of weeks it is simply not so that anyone has approached me to discuss my scent. oddly, yes, people in the past have taken a shine to what deodorant (or whatever) i have used and asked about it. in this instance, nothing. was it that lynx designed this to make people who wore it a sort of ambassador for all things LGBT+, or to show off "acceptance" or to advocate it? if so then it failed. no one said "oh wow, you smell like you are open minded and accepting". also, in respect of the general use for lynx (see earlier comments concerning feral teenagers), no one said "wow that smells great, please bum me" or anything like that t all. people moved away from me no more than usual, at the least. 

for provenance concerns i seem to recall purchasing these quite some time ago, at Superdrug, for some silly giveaway price, circa £2 i believe. it was almost like they were just trying to get rid of it as quickly as possible. very doubtful that i shall ever get this one again, unless (of course) i see it cheap. 

there is every chance you think (or believe) the "swirl" thing on the can art design is familiar. so far as i am aware it's not standard branding, but did indeed feature on the ill-fated, short lived "love" deodorant what they did. yes, click on the word there (its name) and you should get to see my post on that one, if for some reason you are interested. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

gulf of spalding

hello there

in this strange (if not quite brave) new world of ours it's relatively easy for seemingly important stories, or news events, to be overlooked. we have a constant stream of information hitting us, all usually resplendent with variations of fact and fiction, look you see. today would appear to be as an appropriate day as any other (kind of) to have a look at one story which slipped through the net. 

one of the more dominant matters to clog up the flow of information is, without question, the rather perplexing, contradictory actions of the incumbent rulers of america. at once their brilliant, curiously orange leader is embarking on both a path of isolationism with excellent tariffs placed on whatever item that comes to his fantastic mind and expansionism, going on the number of other nations he seems quite eager to make either further states of the union or just basic colonies. a third option for the latter is now on the table, however, with a provincial town in england (or "england-land" as it is usually called over in america) eager to sell their waterway to him. 

 

spalding, a village like picturesque town in quasi central east england (land) celebrated for its tulips, has, apparently, put a "come and buy it" offer on the proverbial table of the americans. information has emerged that the river welland is "available" for the "right price". the decision to sell seems to have come from a wish to avoid any unnecessary, if not entirely needless, military incursion to claim it. 

exactly who(m) has decided to make the welland river available to purchase is a little murky. so far as research, or a little digging, can find, it is not so that any elected representatives of spalding, nor the somewhat infamous parish council, has anything to do with the move. rather it is so that the whole idea has come from a clandestine organisation calling themselves the spalding revolutionary port authority. 

being honest would be to say that it's seldom (if not rare) that i would take any sort of risks simply for something to write here. also it would be reasonably truthful to suggest that i don't really get all that much in the way of an "exclusive" to report on. yet here i have both, for after some careful (if not strategic) negotiations i managed to secure both a meeting and a kind of interview with this revolutionary port authority. 

vital to achieving this was some secrecy. after some provisional (and quite delicate) contact being made with members of this port authority it was agreed that i could attend one of their meetings. some conditions were put in place but it was made clear that i would be granted an audience with the apparent leader of the revolutionary port authority, a gent who was keen to express his true vision and purpose so as to address an alleged "smear campaign" against him and his ambitions. 

getting blindfolded and then bundled into the back of what appeared to be a serviceable van of french provenance is not something i do all that often. still, in this instance, it was made clear that this was the only way i could secure an audience with the spalding revolutionary port authority. at this stage they feel it imperative to remain as anonymous and hidden from view as possible, lest there be any unfair or unjust repercussions stemming from their plan to sell the river welland to america. they wished to make sure that i was kept in the dark as far as possible as to where they met so if i got waterboarded (or some like for like torture method) then i would suffer, yes, but not be able to reveal their base. 

in accordance with their instructions i met representatives of the council at grantham north services. this was after the initial plan to meet at cromwell services fell apart when one member worked out it was a bit of hard work to exit them. on being blindfolded we drove for around an hour or so. the blindfold was taken off, and i found myself in the secret base of the spalding revolutionary port authority, which also doubles as the bin storage area for the cley hall hotel. 

due to this being considered an important but still extraordinary congressional meeting of the spalding revolutionary port authority i was somewhat honoured to find that all four incumbent members had elected to attend the meeting. feeling overwhelmed by the audacity of it all, so as to break ice i congratulated them on their remarkable "hiding in plain sight" approach to a secretive base. i did, however, ask them if they were not concerned about being discovered whilst their negotiations to sell the river welland to the americans were still at a stage best defined as provisional and delicate. apparently all the staff leave the hotel grounds by around 8pm or so, earlier on weekends. surely, i enquired, there existed a risk of residents (or guests) of the hotel "rumbling" them and speaking somewhat out of turn? one of the port authority spoke up, saying that the guests of the hotel were known for appreciating secrecy. he followed this up by stating that the residents now knew only too well that they should "keep their mouths shut", tapping his nose and winking as he explained this. 

the gentleman who said this turned out to be the current leader of the port authority. when i asked his name he replied that usually he preferred to be addressed as the admiral, for this he believed (based on a misunderstanding with the thames water port authority that he asked me not to be revealed due to pending legal action) was the correct title for his position. but, for the sake of making this meeting less stiff and more relaxed, he advised that i could call him Bertrand Fettlebottom. 

quite a lot of what the admiral told me was (to be honest) waffle. there were also one or two comments made that i cannot repeat here due to libel laws, but mostly they concerned his feelings of injustice at the hands of the council in respect of a misunderstanding of what he considered to be recycling. still, it was (eventually) possible to get some information from him in respect of the plan to sell the welland river to our friends in america. 

as the admiral gazed at the steady, tranquil flow of the welland, he spoke of his dream of seeing it all lined with flags of the stars and stripes, with (in his words) them big massive container ships sailing on by, delivering load after economically rewarding load of things to various places. of these places it seems he was particularly keen on the idea of a significant amount of chlorinated chicken being delivered to ipswich, with the expressed hope (or wish) that the residents would "choke on it". 

many questions came to mind about this. the most obvious were, of course, about the logistics of his vision, in particular if it was even feasible to get any sort of containership onto the welland. such questions were waved away as trivialities and logistics. on being asked why he wished to "sell" the welland to the americans the admiral said it would be "far more lucrative" than just sitting around doing nothing but waiting for them to come and invade, as appears to be what awaits panama and, in his words, "greenland or iceland or whatever the other one he wants is". 

it would have been (somewhat) remiss of me not to point out to the admiral that as things stood there was no indication at all of anyone in america proposing to "invade" england (land), either to take control of the waterways or for other purposes. further i diplomatically suggested that the river welland, nice though it is, was not usually (or normally) considered as important for trade routes as, say, the mentioned panama canal is. to this his more or less simplistically shrugged, stating that "all them tree huggers, gay actors and what not" thought they were "saving the planet" by buying electric cars and not, as it according to him is, "funding right wing militia". part of me wished to take him to task on this interpretation, but i couldn't be bothered. 

so as to conclude our meeting, i asked the admiral if he was by any chance related to the somewhat notorious Bertie Fettlebottom, a gentleman various authorities are eager if not keen to speak to with regards to matters such as fly tipping, instigating gang wars in america, claiming to be from silton and terrorist insurgence in portsmouth. whilst he remained silent in the face of these questions, his gesture of making a cutting motion to his neck with one hand whilst pointing overtly at me with the other hand presented a pretty conclusive answer. 

how, exactly, all of this pans out of course remains to be seen. should any more details of this plan come to light, or if i hear any further activities by the admiral, i will be sure to post them here. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!