Drokk it!

I went to see Dredd 3D last night, along with Ali, Sam, Nathan and Cath. Timmy Teacakes was supposed to come too, but he cried off cos he had to do a bit of work for once. Of all of us there was only Nathan and I who had any idea at all what Judge Dredd was even about. I mean, Christ, as we were waiting for the others I had to give Ali a quick run through of 35 years of dispensing justice, muties, the Cursed Earth, the Dark Judges, PJ Maybe, Chopper, the Judda, lawgivers, lawmasters, futsies and Call-Me-Kenneth just to bring him up to speed.

So there I sat, with my mega-mega-family bucket of popcorn, eight bags of Haribo and an ocean of fizzy pop waiting for the movie event of my life. There was that other Judge Dredd film a few years ago, but the less said about that the better. I hope they have collected up all the DVDs of it and buried them in the Mojave Desert. Either that or fired them into the sun.

How was it? I was so fucking disappointed, no Dark Judges, no Walter, no Maria, no Call-Me-Kenneth and Mega City One looked like Leeds. Anyway here is my review:

Dredd (Owen Wilson) is a scientist who has just invented a time travel machine in his garage in Wisconsin. He spends the afternoon with his wife, Trisha (Susan Sarandon) going back to various epochs to see what it was all about. In a dream like montage they visit 12th century Prague, 18th century Vienna, and 20th century Cleethorpes. Retiring to bed, ready to tell the world in the morning of their discovery Dredd accidentally leaves the machine on. During the night a cat jumps on the controls and summons a Tyrannosaurus Rex from a million years BC and a sixty foot robot from a million years AD. Dredd and Trisha are awoken as their house is torn to pieces by the two monsters whaling on each other. Fearing for their lives, they grab the cat and run. In the maelstrom, the machine summons Napoleon's Grande Armée on their way to Moscow. Soon there is 20,000 Frenchmen battling a giant dinosaur and a giant robot in one of cinema's finest moments akin to Citizen Kane. The army is called and soon manage to calm things down and make everyone see sense. The Robot and the Dinosaur get married and the soldiers open a theme park with Napoleonic themed roller-coasters. Dredd smashes the machine with a baseball bat, but not before transporting himself and Trisha back to 20th century Cleethorpes where they live happily ever afterwards.

Score: 15 on 10!

And here is some text messages of He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named:

Him: One more day closer to death. I suppose that's something to look forward to at least. (this was received at 09:05...)

Me: Why don't you do the world a favour and fucking hang yourself? No one would miss you.

Him: Who are you, my therapist? Because that's what he keeps telling me.

Me: No, but he pays me to say this stuff to you.

Him: So you don't really mean it? That makes me feel a bit better.

Me: No, I do mean it, that's why I took the job. It's like getting paid to do your hobby! It's totes good money too, another bonus!

Him: Dick

Me: Woah! I'm just doing my job! Don't have a fucking go at me! You're such a bellend sometimes. I don't have a go at you about that racist drivel you teach your students.

Him: That's not racist. It's true. It's all backed up by hundreds of academic publications going back to the nineteen thirties.

Me: In German?

Him: What difference does that make? Now look who's being racist!

Me: I'm going to report you to the head of your department.

Him: Don't bother, he already hates me. They all do, the shower of cunts.

Me: No wonder with that attitude.

Him: I hope your sandwich today has Ebola in it and you die shitting blood and bleeding out of your eyeballs.

Me: How did you know what I am having for lunch?!

Him: You're just so fucking predictable, like the phases of the moon, or the changing of the season, or an episode of 'My Family'.

Me: You really like kicking a guy when he's down, don't you? Why can't you have more respect for me?

Him: I hope you catch Lyme disease from watching Dredd, and die suffering from painful skin cracking facial palsy.

Me: What is your beef?

Him: What do you think about those princess kate topless photos? I can't fell but feel that this wouldn't have happened if she bore herself with proper regal dignity, instead of WALKING AROUND WITH HER TITS OUT LIKE A COMMON FUCKING TRAMP WHORE.

Me: I hate her for what she's done to the queen. I always said that about her, didn't I?

Him: Well lady di never strutted around with her boobs flapping for all the world to see, that's for sure. She had class. God I miss her so much.

The Nefarious Dr Bucket

When I was on the Isle of Man a couple of months ago, there was a group of rebel students from the University of Liverpool. They had been brainwashed and absorbed into the gang of Dr Bucket, a nefarious sort from North of the Border.

 Dr Bucket and one of his henchmen in action

The last day Dr Bucket's gang were on site was very wet and we couldn't work, so they were tasked with some menial job, like washing finds, or labelling pottery. Basically, something I didn't want to do. It was during this time, when I was engaged elsewhere, that Dr Bucket hatched a plot against me and my boots. I returned to the mess tent to find my boots missing and a hand scrawled note on my tent door. This led me to follow several other clues until I finally found my boots. Below are the clues, please excuse the childish scrawl:

An aside; the wench mentioned in the note was Heather, who had the next clue secreted about her person. She is seated on the extreme right of this picture taken a few hours before the boot scam. She is holding her clue and braying at poor unsuspecting me. 

Each of the locations mentioned were at least two football fields apart from each other as shown by this picture of our site camp and my movements therein:

So, I found the boots and thought little of Dr Bucket's gang until two weeks later when a letter arrived for me:

Fin

Mark of the Beast

It was my birthday last month, six weeks ago. He-who-cannot-be-named sent me a present, six weeks late. I opened it to find this:

With this torn piece of paper:

 and the reverse:

Who needs enemies, eh?

It's a dog's death

I was on my way to the bus stop to go into town for the pub quiz last night. I checked my phone when I got to the stop and because I'd been listening to my MP3 player playing Orcustus at full volume I'd missed a call on the walk. I checked further and saw that it was from that four eyed cunt Salter. Now, ever since that pretentious twat moved down south to Cornwall, he wants nothing to do with the ho-poloi back in the north, so I wondered what on earth he could be calling me for. I called him back and he didn't answer. Curiouser and curiouser, I mused, but let it go, even though the rage was boiling up in me. As I climbed aboard the bus that had just arrived I had the following text message conversation with him:

Him: Sorry, I was playing with the dog and it rang your number again [this outrage has happened before]. It's cos you're alphabetically the first name on the contact list. Would it be possible for you to change your name to avoid a repeat of this telephonic mishap in the future?

Me: I could, but I think we both know what the simpler alternative is. Buy it some real dog toys. Telephones are expensive electronic items and don't stand up to a dog's heavy handed use. Either that or have the dog put down.

Him: I've thought of an even simpler alternative. I've just entered a brand new contact on my list called AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. That should solve the problem. I wasn't sure what phone number to type in for this new contact though, so I just put in yours for the easiest. I hope that's OK.

Me: It may work, I'm still in favour of putting the dog to sleep. In fact I took the liberty of contacting Jaime [his wife] about this and she's in agreement. She's taking potty or whatever you call it to the vets tomorrow. 

I have been swimming over the last couple of weeks. I have been going with Kate and Ali, mostly so they can be my seeing eyes. With my bad eyesight, swimming is a fucking minefield, what with not being able to wear my glasses I am as blind as the proverbial mole. I went with Kate and Ali to stand at the either end of the pool so they can hit me on the head with a stick as I approach and indicate when to turn around. The first time we went, I groped my way into the lanes and got in the slow lane. I figured being fat and old it was probably the best place for me. The pool is divided up into slow, medium and fast lanes. It turns out, I was actually a bit faster than I initially thought and was passing drowning octogenarians like it was nobodies business. I decided to myself that I would swap lanes and announced such to Ali. I slipped under the rope into what I thought was the medium lane. This is where my failing eyesight let me down. Olympic swimmers and half-fish men were passing me at an alarming speed. I was floundering and bobbing about in their wakes, panic set in. I had inadvertently gone into the fast lane. I managed to get myself out just before Duncan Goodhuw slammed into me at breakneck speed. Lesson learned.

A little help?

No-No Square

And another song by the talented Mr Landels.


Chester and the No-No Square
(To the tune of: Call me Maybe, Carly Rae Jepsen, 2012.)

I was attracted to you
When we were bailing B2,
Our love of graveyarding grew
Out in the bucket line.
You told me Shrek was your pal
And I was your kinda gal',
You helped me up when I fell
And then it was break time...

And soon tea was flowing,
Cattle eyes following,
Rape alarms were going,
I just had to tell you... 

Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy...
But that square's No-No! 
So please don't rape me! 
I mighta led you on, when I said 'Take me...'
But that square's No-No! 
So please don't rape me!

Before you came into my life
It was okay, Yes it was okay,
But it was just okay...
Now you've got kind of creepy
And your bucket, it's leaky
So I say 'No way!'
Yes I say 'No, no way!

You said Chester was your name
And molesting was your game
I thought a joke was to blame,
But now I'm not so sure!
When you invaded my porch
Only wearing a headtorch
And said you'd soon make me scorch
I knew you weren't so pure...

Wild shapes you were throwing,
Your eyes - they were glowing,
Rape alarms were going,
I just had to tell you...

Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy...
But that square's No-No!
So please don't rape me!
I mighta led you on, when I said 'Take me...'
But that square's No-No!
So please don't rape me!

Before you came into my life
It was okay,
Yes it was okay,
But it was just okay...
Now you've got kind of creepy
And your bucket, it's leaky
So I say 'No way!'
Yes I say 'No, no way!

A Song for Europe

Until I can be bothered to write a post about my time on the Isle of Man, here is a song about it:

Ballacagen Excavation 2012 Song

by Gerard Landels

(To the tune of: Piano Man, Billy Joel: 1973.)

It's half past six on a Sunday,
So a new breakfast crew shuffles in.
They were all out quite late,
The mess tent is a state:
It seems no cleaning fairy has been.
James screams, 'Wake up archaeologists,
As the time has rolled over to eight!
And you'll clean out the dregs
Or knock in new tent pegs
If you finish your breakfast too late!'

He goes, 'Blah, blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah...
Blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah...'

Sing us a song 'cause it's raining,
 Sing to us now, we're in pain.
Well our spirits are sunk,
'Cause this new pump is junk,
 And we just can't face bailing again!
It goes on and on,
 Yes, it goes on...
 And we're getting fed up of it now!

Well Rachel, she's keen on her features.
She loves them if the truth be known,
And she's made up her mind
That she doesn't like finds,
Because every third one is a stone!
In truth she's a pretty good teacher
Cause her students all feel they belong,
But she's sure to get tetchy
If your shovelin's sketchy
Or if you get anything wrong...

She'll go, 'Blah, blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah...
Blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah...'

Sing us a song 'cause it's raining,
Sing to us now, we're in pain.
Well our spirits are sunk,
'Cause this new pump is junk,
And we just can't face bailing again!
It goes on and on,
Yes, it goes on...
And we're really fed up_ of it now!

Now Alex came over especially,
He's a grumpy old man with no friends.
But he does like his booze,
And looking for his shoes-
Yes he follows clue trails to their ends.
And if ever a pump should look broken,
Well he'll stand and look at it all day,
Else he's down the urinal
Just thinking 'bout vinyl
And pissing his troubles away!

He goes, 'Blah, blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah...
Blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah...'
(The rest I can't repeat!)

Sing us a song 'cause it's raining,
Sing to us now, we're in pain.
Well our spirits are sunk,
'Cause this new pump is junk,
And we just can't face bailing again!
It goes on and on,
Yes, it goes on...
And we've just had enough_ of it now!

Well Harold's the man with the master plan,
For him I have nothing but praise.
He's no time for the Sith
Or that common-held myth
That a groundwater level might raise!
He spends time on the site pretty sparingly
And never cleans his spoil away,
But he must be quite bright
Because when he's on site,
Well... He's not short of something to say!

He goes, 'Blah, blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah...
Blah, blah, blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah...
(Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah...)'

Sing us a song 'cause it's raining,
Sing to us now, we're in pain.
Well our spirits are sunk,
'Cause this new pump is junk,
And we just can't face bailing again!
It goes on and on,
Yes, it goes on...
Until we can all go back home!

Will you send a dinghy, please?

I lost my house, I lost my job and they say bad things come in threes, so this week I have had my third dose of bad juju. As I wound my way merrily down the Job Centre last Wodan's Day I got a text off Ali asking if I was free for the next few weeks to go out to the Isle of Man to help supervise Liverpool University's field school there. He was down with a bad leg and wouldn't be able to complete his duty. I was in desperate need for work and enjoy field schools anyway, so I said yes, I would.

Then, the enormity of this undertaking struck me. I have lain awake every night since, feverish and gibbering, thinking of the horror that will face me on Man. You see, I have visited this blight struck isle once before. It was back as an undergraduate in 1999 that the entire year was taken on a four day field trip. It was under the guise of a learning experience, visiting the island's archaeological features, such as St Kevin's Stump and listening in vain as someone's presentation was drowned out by the howling gales. In reality it was mostly thirty odd students on a booze sodden rampage across the island. In the hotel we were not allowed to eat the regular guest's salad and had to make do with student salad, which was the regular salad left over from the day before. At breakfast we were served by waitresses with weeping sores on their arms and in the evening were entertained by 'Rita Rocks Gently'.

The luxurious Hotels of the Isle of Man

The highlight of the trip was upsetting Denny Egan with Douglas Peel, the dead jellyfish I found on Peel harbour beach. I had bagged Douglas to take him back to the hotel. my plan was to bring him back to life in a Frankenstein style experiment involving a bath full of water and a plugged in radio alarm clock. Unfortunately, Douglas was ejected by one of my fellow bus passengers and now resides in a shallow roadside grave somewhere on the interior of Man.

Awww, weren't we all so young then?

YES OF COURSE WE FUCKING WERE, IT'S THIRTEEN FUCKING YEARS AGO!!!

So what do we know about Man? I did a bit of research on the internetz and found this documentary:



What else do I know? I know that the inhabitants, Manners, have three legs and short tails and they all think they're Vikings. Each year, the Pagan tradition of Tynwald Day is celebrated. Here is another documentary I found about it:



I am going to be camping for the entire six weeks I am there, so lets hope that the weather remains as good as it has done so far this summer or this will be the scene on the campsite:



So if I survive the weather and the Manners trying to offer me up to their Crop Gods on Tynwald Day it should be a good trip.