I want to take you to a Gay bar, Gay bar Gay bar....and watch Topping and Butch

Hello all,

These entries are coming thick and fast. Won't keep it up, this weeks had some exciting events and its looking a bit more lax over the next week or so. Still can tell you about Spanish tomorrow and French on Tuesday, classes begin then. Looking forward to getting back on the wagon.

Also I apologise if the latest blog entries you find here have spelling/grammatical errors, I have a tendency to make such things. I always re-read my stuff before making the next entry however so if you wish to check my old entries you will find that my work has been brought to an impeccable standard.
Go ahead, check, I'll wait.

But of course you're probably just too lazy and uninterested to re-check which is fine as you may now read the latest entry which involves the review of my favourite Gay comedy duo Topping and Butch.

Yes slightly more interesting this time no?

I went with my dad and his boyfriend to Central Station, a gay bar at Kings Cross which turned out to be so-so. Wasn't the nicest of atmospheres but then me being of the heterosexual persuasion it wasn't really geared for an audience such as myself. Most gay clubs I've been to however have slightly nicer vibes. Not that I regularly frequent the gay scene, just stuck my head in here and there. Moving swiftly on...

We waited for a good 2 hours for Topping and Butch to saunter it a few minutes late but in brilliant style, descending from the stairs, Butch in a priests costume, Topping in a nun's attire.

The number of Anti-Catholic jokes was funny in itself

These were quickly discarded to reveal their plastic spandex underwear and, in Toppings case, a lovely skirt. Those of you who don't feel that that picture will be as lovely in reality as it is in your minds may wish to quickly scroll over the following picture:

Well you can't see Toppings skirt but its probably for the best..

They proceeded to pull off quite a funny evening. This is despite:

1) At the very start a drunk who was annoyingly right next to me getting taken to the back for rubbish yelling

2) An extremely unfunny and over-zealous fan at the back giving rubbish banter

3) The two 50 year olds dressed in school uniforms at the front being on and off funny and throwing mood swings when not appreciated. (One of them owned the bar!)

Butch (on the right of the picture) is one of the wittiest men you will see for free on stage and took it all in his stride. The bar wasn't that full which annoyed me but it was a sizable crowd and they had us all laughing. I wish I could remember some of the funny one liners I tried furiously to etch into my mind. One was "It's nice to be here, as I told William Hague at his hotel that night..." and other included a rant about the costs of us hosting the pope and how its getting more expensive ending with "Ah well the Catholics always knew how to manipulate small figures..." Gah I should have recorded the rest. Funny stuff tho. 

Songs they sang included one about wanting to shag David Miliband, a song about Viagra and its benefits and my personal favourite, the I Hate You song where they describe in many many metaphors what their company is like to one another, each description more vile then the last. Awesome. 

They are definitely worth a watch. Didn't even mind that much coming home on two night buses and getting back at 2. Was a good night I recommend. 

I think the next big night after this might very well be the WOMBATS who I hopefully will buy a ticket with what little money I have this week. Their show is in late October, I look forward to it ever so. 

Hope you guys are all well and happy, chat to ya soon,

Finito!

"I realised I was dyslexic when I went to a toga party dressed as a goat."

My favourite joke I heard a few weeks ago. One of the contenders at the Edinburgh fringe. Fitting start to a blogging entry about trying to become happy and fulfilled.

Something occurred to me a short while ago which I forget and remember again over a period of months; I suffer from exhaustion. Sell diagnosed, but sleeping late and getting 5 - 7 hours sleep regularly while tackling a regular gym and football schedule is playing havoc on my mind and I forget about it often. Its like standing beneath a cloudy sky which moves between different shades, from violently dark to glistening white. When you forget what it used to be like to be happy and carefree, that's like forgetting what the sun looks like through the clouds.

You stand and squint trying to see through but you can't make it out. At Essex University I was different, I was more buoyant, I held a conversation while making good jokes, I ENJOYED holding conversations and not wanting to go off and stop thinking about what to say. I thought it was because university life was so fun and energetic that I became depressed back here. But I think it was the fact that 5/7 days a week at uni I slept in and got at least 8 hours sleep. I was happy!

I think being exhausted and distant from people caused me to lose one of my best friends at the start of 2010. I'm tired of being tired. I feel at my best when I'm making people feel at their best. I'm going to start getting extra sleep, at least 8 hours on a regular basis. Hopefully then I will entertain my friends more fully. It will be hard seeming as I stay up late to talk to my friends in the US, I'll find other times. Besides, I snapped at one of my best friends Diva not long ago, maybe I wont have any friends anyway if I keep this up. Hopefully it'll make for better blogs too! I'll keep you updated.

Anyways THIS blog is also about the gig I went to on Thursday night with the lovely Ant and Carolina. The Holloways were in town for one night only and we intended to see them. I was on board last minute due to the lovely introduction I had with Rob Skipper and Dave Danger on Tuesday, I figured this week would be a fun week to get over the exhaustion and general down feeling. (I had also remembered something nutty I once told my lost friend and I was down for not being able to apologise for such a thing.)

Camden is always the place to get lost in fantasy however. I was slightly concerned that my shirt, necklace and no-belt ensemble made me look a trifle homosexual but as Ant pointed out his bright red jeans and shaved head made him take the crown for indie/possible man lover of the evening. The walk there was nippy and rainy but after some confusion we got into a mostly empty gig. The Holloways had fallen over the months from quasi-fame and were between drummers and guitarists so it seemed like it was going to be a pretty tame crowd.

Bought my only drink of the night, a loooooovely koppenberg, the best cider/booze in the world, delightfully tasting and fruity as fuck. Marvelous. We bagged seats and waited for the first band, who came on and announced they were replacing someone who pulled out which they admitted was lucky for them. I would say it was lucky for us considering the lead singer LOOKED LIKE THIS!!

Booyaa!!

I mean sweet Jesus. Ant disagrees but I think shes sexier then Megan Fox and its more then just being scantily clad and wearing a pointless belt and what looks to be a pair of pink mens y-fronts. She was quite lovely. Anyhoo she was an ok singer but Milk seemed intent of playing songs which revolved around 1) Partying and 2) More Partying, so it was just a decent warm up if that.

The second band were called Sissy and the Blisters, quite tall bunch of chaps with Franz Ferdinand style appeal. I disapproved of the identical hairstyle for all members which is just weird in my books but they were pretty ok to watch, especially when the guitarist/keyboard played got pissed off at the lead singer who was so entirely off his nut from drugs that it was funny. Then not funny. Then funny again.

Same haircuts :\

Finally the Holloways arrived and bashed out some of their greatest hits. Ant tapped my shoulder to tell me apparently the gorgeous lead singer of Milk was on my right cheering them on. I refused to be that guy that turns, stares and trys not to drool however so I was boring and kept my eyes front.

Hoooolloways

I thought the Holloways did a decent job of it to be honest. They played most of their set list including two left feet and the obligatory Generator. They missed Alcohol which I remember being quite good but played 3 new ones, all of varying success. They came with a brand new guitarist and drummer since I last saw, the guitarist was in a class of his own with regards to skill, he was at 12 o clock in front of me and the guitar pluckings he was yanking out of the thing looked depressingly difficult. Alfie, the lead singer also played the guitar well and with menacing ability but thinking back I believe his chords were so unusual to me as I play left handed. It is surprisingly hard to identify chords the other way round. Right handed weirdos.

Ant was less then impressed with the Holloways. Being a big fan he suggested that this was his worst viewing in 12 viewings of the band; and lest not forget viewing #11 ended with him being arrested. So you can imagine how this time wasn't up to his high standards. Still we all had a good generator and two left feet dance and they played all their songs to a fairly high standard, just lacking in a bit of heart it appears.

LONG blog today. Not as knackered as I usually am, and soon I hope to improve them with more jokes and quips. More of the word 'trifle' in future I hope. I do love a good 'trifle'.

Until next time folks.

Finito!

Tis the random nights out that inspire the greatest, most memorable moments sometimes.

I was fully prepared to take on an evening of painful hill training this evening; that being running up a hill 4 - 10 times very fast until the world starts spinning, its becomes painful to move a muscle and life generally starts fading away in front of your eyes. Good times. However things change.

I woke up from my recurring dream this morning, I was in the company of an old friend, someone I let down a long time ago. When I was at the faithful internship I recalled something stupid I said to them, something which seemed 100% A Ok at the time, but which, months later, like a bullet from the gun of all things depressing, struck me square between the eyes and made me damn near sweat from the annoyance of my ignorance.

Bugger, I thought.

So it was a good thing I received a reminder from my friend mr anthony D that there was a gig going on in Camden tonight. Once again I was invited to London's Vice City, a place which was full of pick-me-ups. Of the good kind. So I decided what was best for my sanity would be a bit of hard partying and merriment as opposed to the crippling pain of a damn steep hill. How right I was.

Little knownst to me we were early indeed, we had time enough to buy some of the cheapest 'hurryletsgetwastedasap' booze our local convenience store had to offer and go home and drink a damn large portion of it too, taking what little we had left in bottles to the gig location.

We met good ole Leander at the station and made our way to the gig, which was the size roughly of the downstairs level of any upstate new york house I have ever been in. Large but good lord not that big. However there was a perfect number of people present, all of which seemed to enjoy a good dance.

The band we came to see were called The Hares, a good little indie group who 1) had the fairly famous Rob Skipper as a lead singer/guitarist and 2) was in the process of shedding its one band member of any true talent and fame winning potential, the bassist. It was critical that we heard them before all was lost.

What we had was a damn good experience beyond anything I could have thought rising this morning. The band were excellent, and played some great catchy songs. I managed to snap some good photos, my camera was acting strange with regards to focus but I caught the buggers in some good freeze frame shots on a number of occasions. After the band ended we managed to talk to both Mr Skipper himself, who turned out to be a lovely chappy, and Mr Dave Danger, the barman who was an ex-semi successful drummer with the Holloways. Mr Danger seemed unimpressed by the recent attendance of the lead Holloways members to the gigs of friends and ex-band mates, hot gross which made the evening even more worthwhile. The niceness of mr skipper and the pleasant atmosphere encouraged me to buy a ticket for the Holloway's on Thur's, which I shall do asap. This all beasts running up hills I might add.

All that remained to be done was to dance like crazed fools to the great selection of post-band tunes on offer, all of which turned out to be absolute classics; The Flowerpot in Camden Town boys and girls, I hightly recommend.

Leander left a tad early to get back and me avec ant left shortly after to grab a train back home. After a memorable conversation regarding which celebrity babe was mostly likely evil (most likely all we agreed on), we went to the D's house and watched meaningless football commentary while cooking the drunk persons favourite meal; "fried anything". Turns out today was friend egg, fried toast and fried tomato day. Fried anything tastes like a £1000 dinner at the Ritz when drunk, there is no substitute.

It took several more hours of football discussion regarding referees and goalline technology before I had to leave at 4am and I find myself here at home typing up the remains. I should probably in future leave such posts to the following evening, as such I feel I am rushing to sleep more quickly in order to wake up in approx 4 hours for athletic training. Good decision you may chime. Damn well wish it had come to me before starting the first sentence at the top of this page.

But what is done is done, and I am damn pleased for sharing it with you. Moral: when life is kicking you in the nuts and you need a pick me up, trust in a friend, a random band, and alcohol to pick you up and guide you to a better place. Just make sure the friend is on your side or shit could get ugly.

This post hasn't been up to scratch! It will take a great next post to turn things around. The Holloways gig on Thursday will be the place to do such a thing. I lack money to invest in such a venture but mr skipper will be expecting me, can't let the old guy down. Promise to bring a much more witty and sober idea to the foray on Thursday evening peeps.But until then, in the words of Maurice (Andy Dick):

Dig a hole and plant yourself!

Not awe inspiring but a little bit magnificent.

This post is aboot a very random night on Thursday (I started writing about it yesterday upon my return but I was knackered and my laptop died, you will forgive me when you read of the quest.)

My lovely friend Ly has a friend over who arrived a week ago, Sam or Monkey as the nickname goes. I was asked to show her around for an evening to get her attuned to the melody of London life. Monkey had plans to meet a friend in Camden, not the most idyllic place to show London in its finest hour but a lovely place nonetheless.

Upon meeting Monkey I very quickly came to the realise that she is one of the weird and wonderful people that make life so interesting. She shares many common traits to me good mate Fatima Begum; they talk fast and think later but that doesn't mean they sound stupid, just carefree. She quizzed me on my facial expressions to different stories and I quickly learned of her dislike for both dogs and traffic.

Upon getting into Camden we went for ice cream at the Black Cap bar/restaurant. Have to say its a lovely place. Friendly barman, food on the menu looked very well priced, we ended up with a huge piece of cake and a scoop of ice cream for 2.99, lovely stuff.

Every bit as lovely as it looks

At this point I must state my deep desire for a restaurant reviewer application or program on the web. I'm surprised such a thing does not yet exist - just have a google map up, with the ability to stick pins in and give reviews to restaurants and bars. Yeah you can 'kind' of do that now, but why not have the ability to set up your own groups or even individual profile - when you/your friends review a place, when you next log in you can see their colour pin and you can find out more about their review by hovering over the place. God I wish I took IT in uni.

Anyways back to the story. Besides cake munching the first thing I was asked to do at the table was to have my hand drawn round and possibly later (we left too soon to continue) write my personality traits and whatnot in the outline. Weird and wonderful. Monkey was a good laugh.

We quickly moved onto the Blues Kitchen to meet Monkeys friend and see some music. (Blues kitchen: Prices 2/10 Looks 7/10, Atmosphere 8/10). After a ridiculously expensive bulmers I learned that Monkeys English friend had spent a year in Vietnam at uni and could speak some good Vietnamese as a result. The evening was getting very surreal.

The full band arrived after a short solo by the keyboard/guitarist, a pretty, Norse looking singer with a powerful voice was the only really visible sight on the small very dark stage. We listened for a good hour, they were pretty good for a blues band, can't say i heard the name but I'm pretty sure one of the songs was called something along the lines of 'Zombies alive' (?). No sinister by any means and a fairly lovely listen.

Good singer with a powerful voice

The lead singer jumped into the crowd a few times to boogie along and got a pretty welcome applause.All in all it was a lovely evening. We said goodbye to monkeys friend, I took Monkey back to her place in Baker St which took a good half hour longer then it would normally as both our senses of direction were fairly appalling. 

I then embarked on a random quest. Despite it being midnight and me having the ole internship the next day at 10, I decided to walk from Baker Street Station to Marble Arch in search of one of the random art works London is occasionally privy to; the one I found in the Metro paper was a 17 tonne horses head which I thought couldn't be missed. After starting out heading in completely the wrong direction like the ponce I am, I managed to walk a fairly long way in a short time, possibly because winter is setting in and its getting a bit nippy out there. The statue reward was easy to find. As the title of this post suggests, it was Not awe inspiring, but a little bit magnificent

Horse drinking from water

Marble Arch was as lovely as always, as was the surrounding foliage. From here I made the rash decision to walk a further 25 minutes to Westminster in the cold, past a road I hadn't used since my lovely friend Rocio had come to town and past my internship in St James Park. Its never fun to walk past your work place when you have to be there in less then 8 hours. But that's what I did. In retrospect I should have gone to Trafalgar Square where the N155 also goes but hey ho, alls well that ends well.

The only other thing of mention is the man I found on the floor around Victoria. Not dead I hasten to add. It made for a depressing tinge at the end of an evening, the poor guy had clearly taken a tumble face first and had some nasty facial cuts. I helped him to a seating position but the proud sod wanted to do the rest himself. I looked round after crossing the road to see him still struggling at it. Must remember to toast the elderly next time I get drunk, he looked almost 80, good on him I say.

All that remains to be said is that I found the N155, the late night drunks best friend, and made my way home. 5 hours sleep later I was getting up for work, so you can forgive my lack of timely blogging.



For now I will leave you with some fabulous mannequins I spied on the way home along with my attempt at a very British shot. Long flash with a flag, bus and ambulance. Me likely at least.

I bid you adieu!

Faaaaaaaabulous dahling...

How many British things can you spot?

Signed up to French et Spanish

Thank God.

May be poor and unemployed but I was eager enough to have family members contribute money towards getting these lessons in as an early birthday present. Its no xbox, but fek do I ever need them.

With the economy seeming to get worse by the week, horrible right wing conservatives in government promising to cut my job opportunities and telling me how thankful I should be that they're risking a second recession in the process, the only thing that gives me comfort anymore is that the British suck at languages. And we're getting worse. (According to a recent study, french/spanish, the lot are down, with maybe some small increases in chinese).

SO, whilst in the near future things are grim, I may sit with fingers clasped, bent over grinning like a cartoon supervillian happy in the knowledge that within the next few years I will be IN DEMAND! Like a glass of scotch at an AA meeting, I will be in demand.

Also theres that thrill of speaking to someone in more then one dialect, I love it when me mates chat to each other interspersing between two languages. I had A - C grades in all my GCSEs except french. God I hated french. And now learning these romance languages sustains me. Go figure.

Off to parliament tomorrow to watch 3 or 4 questions I helped draft at my internship get read out. I intern at the Global Tamil Forum which, while unpaid, is the most fulfilling experience I can imagine right now. The organisation is obviously very rewarding to contribute to, helping fight for the human rights of minorities in Sri Lanka is brilliant. Combined with the high level of interaction with government figures makes me feel like I'm making a difference. This will be hard to let go if I become an administrator for some building company. Still, French and Spanish will keep me going.

Look at me, second post and I have it all figured out. I think..


Until next time.

Finito!

Lets start at the beginning.

Alright lets speak freely. I'm closing in on 24 years of age. It stopped being funny a while back but it turns out I can't stop it. Life is short and I'm trying to fit in a couple lifetimes worth into mine. Currently looking to get signed back on to French and Spanish courses which start at the end of the month while looking for a job to pay for Salsa and Guitar lessons as well as the hundreds of pounds worth of debts I now owe family.

Long term the goal is to use said job to earn a ton of money to travel this world and see what there is to see. This means, painfully, probably living at home for most of my 20s. However, God willing, I shall be able to master french and spanish and use them to get a job in Europe, America, Australia, all of them I hope. THIS, is the plan.

"That seems a triffle impossible." you might say. "You should settle for something less."
"Good thing I don't accept failure." I would respond. "This is the only course for me to take in order for me to feel like I'm doing something with my life."

"If you say so kiddo" you may retort. "Just don't come crying to us when it all goes tits up and you're stuck at home til your 40's."
"Yeah well that won't happen." I'd respond, "I'm going to save up dilligently and forfil my dreams."

"Diligently has only one L dipshit" you could snap. "Better learn how to spell if you want to get rich and famous."
"Jesus, whats with the fucking attitude?" I'd enquire. "I'm only trying to tell you I want to get out there and make something of myself and gain new friends and lifestyles in different countries."
"Whatever man." you 'd finish. "I look forward to reading about how hard this little quest of yours is."

Well... You got a bit pissy towards the end of our chat there I'm afraid to say.

But! I look forward to sharing the struggle with those of you who fancy tagging along.

Catch ya soon!