To the Lifeboats!!

To be honest not much of any real interest has occurred since the last posting. Wincey has not been on site all week as he's writing a report at home, this still didn't stop him driving all the way across York in Monday morning rush hour traffic to tell me that we would only need one pump as there was only three of us on site. As though I couldn't count for myself. I've organised sites with up to sixty students on them, I don't think working out what three people have to do for a day is going to be much of a problem... But still he felt the need to take nearly two hours to get to us and then get back home to point out the pointless. Apart from that minor infraction we have had a pretty blissful week of it. So with the lack of humorous tales I will have turn to my text messages again. I received a set of texts from the good Herr Docktor starting at about nine o'clock on Tuesday. I guarantee that every one of these is genuine and are still on my phone. I just hope Interpol are not monitoring my text conversations.

For a joke this morning i'm going to phone every primary school in d***** and tell them there's a bomb somewhere in the building
23 Nov 2010 09:02

At this point I told him not to and mentioned the fact that North Korea were rattling sabers by dopping artillery shells on civilians. This just drew out the racist in him.

That's a coincidence, i was actually going to put on a chinky accent when i phoned the schools, now i can tie it into the korea thing to make it more convincing, i'll say i'm calling from pyonyang
23 Nov 2010 09:35

I did the calls now there are lots of police outside my house, what should i do
23 Nov 2010 12:01

I'm hiding in my bathroom with a box of pork scratchings, they keep shouting they're going to bash in my front door
23 Nov 2010 16:33

I told them i had the whole house rigged to explode, that made them think twice about bashing my door in! Maybe they'll be gone in the morning, i'm going to sleep in the bathtub now, good night
23 Nov 2010 21:24

I've been very clever, sometimes i use a chinky voice, sometimes i use my normal voice so they think there's two people in the house and the chinky is holding the other one hostage. I ran out of pork scratchings though, not sure what i'll eat tomorrow.
23 Nov 2010 22:23

I told him I thought that was a good idea, using two different voices. It would confuse matters. Despite being racist.

Yes i could say the chinky shot himself and i burned the body in the bath and washed it down the plughole which is why nothing is left. Then i'd be the hero.
23 Nov 2010 22:30

There's a helicopter outside and police so i cut off my own finger and pushed it out through the letterbox, not sure why i did that, i think i panicked, it really hurts, there's blood all over my phone
24 Nov 2010 07:56

I'm feeling faint alex, there's all these guys standing around me shouting and pointing lights but i don't know if they're real or not
24 Nov 2010 09:35

Yes i'll fall asleep and they'll probably forget about me
24 Nov 2010 09:47

That was the last message I got from him until he texted me telling me he was going to make it clear to all his students that if they joined the anti-cuts demos he would automatically fail them. This is exactly the kind of shit I have to put up on a daily basis. I am generally up to my eyes in filth and have to reach my hand through about eight layers of clothes to find my phone only to find this kind of shit waiting for me.

Homeless for Christ's Mass

So over a nice meal last night which lulled me in to a sense of false security, Tim and Cath announced that they were going to throw me out just before Christ's Mass. Yes, that's right, deep in the Heart of Winter they are going to turn me out into the streets. Talk about Christ's Mass cheer, talk about the season of goodwill to all men! I will probably have to find a bridge to sleep under and turn tricks for Sailors to get by.

$15, any ting you want...

They claimed it was something to do with inappropriate behaviour with Hüsker the cat. They said I'd been caught looking at his 'thing'. This was never proved, the cat was in my room but I am innocent of all indecency charges. But don't worry, I've been getting my own back all the time I've been here. I've been stealing their clothes and jewelry. I burnt all of Tim's Motorhead t-shirts and pawned all of Cath's necklaces. The fucker's can't throw me out without a fight.

Say goodbye, shitbag!

A GTO from the Stars!

Last night I went to see Monster Magnet and I know this won't amount to a hill of spit to 99% of the people reading this and I don't give a shit, but even better than that we (Kate, Dave, Rhys and I) got to go back stage and meet the King of Mars himself, Dave Wyndorf! You have no idea what this means to me, I've been following Monster Magnet for twenty years and this was the equivalent to discovering life on another planet!

 Lord 13

What did I say to him? Fuck knows, I was drunk, I was gabbling like a drooling tard. I recall asking him why he'd not played Spine of God. Whatever, it gave me a big old grin, right across me face for the rest of the night!

Fuck Your God

I hate Christ's Mass. Sorry, I'll redefine that. I hate the run up to Christ's Mass. You know, that kick off heralded by the closure of Halloween (AKA another fucking reason to spend your hard earned money on shit). As soon as the fucking plastic pumpkins are taken off the shelves they are filled again with plastic Santas and reindeer and MASSIVE FUCKING LIGHTS to bedeck your council hovels with. Michael Myers disappears back into the shadows only to have us confronted by bearded Pedos in red jump suits grasping at your kids. Again, don't get me wrong, I love winter, I love snow, I love the dark nights (I'm not right keen on getting up in the dark, travelling to and going home from work in the dark, oh and the shitty rain we always get at this time of year...), I love the cold as it descends like a black cloud over humanity. I even love the starkness of the trees as the leaves have fallen. Winter is probably my favourite time of year, but it's fucking spoiled by the run up to Christ's Mass.

OH, JUST FUCK OFF!!

I'm not keen on traipsing out that hackneyed old cliche that it's getting earlier and earlier each year, but it does seem like that sometimes. I was out shopping for some new shoes last weekend (it's early November). I'd fallen over in the fucking mud on site and covered my trainers in slop, so I needed a new pair and had to venture out the cold stark Orwellian nightmare that is Parkgate Retail world. After being shunted from a dual carriageway into single car lanes along with EIGHT THOUSAND OTHER CARS which only served to exacerbate my two minutes hate I finally found a parking spot after a further four hours of driving around the car park at two miles an hour. After parking up I hurried forthwith to the shoe shop. An aside about this place. I called into Sports Direct, the worst fucking shopping experience a man can have. After squeezing myself through the impossibly tight aisles, rammed with shitty sports equipment and filled with stinking chavs, I fumbled my way to the racks and racks of sports shoes. I knew what I was after; some skater's shoes. No, I don't skate, but I like the shoes as they are big and comfortable. I chose the pair I wanted and looked around for an assistant to help me get them from the back room. There was none. I waited a little while longer, trying to catch the eye of the feckless teenagers milling about that I took for assistants as they were dressed in matching track suits. They all fastidiously ignored me.

He's no athlete

After a while of this carry on I decided to take matters into my own hands and marched over to the nearest track suited teenager I could see (a man can get arrested for this kind of behaviour, don't tell the Daily Mail...) and asked if she could find me a pair in my size. Her answer; 'I don't have a radio, you'll have to ask one of the others over by the shoe stand'. Why did it even matter that she didn't have a radio? I wanted a pair of shoes not to listen to the Light Programme. There was NO ONE at the shoe stand except for other wannabe customers looking desperately for help from an assistant. Someone had fired off a distress signal but was still waiting in vain for help. A couple had starved to death waiting to be assisted.

All I want is some fucking shoes! I have money! Please, won't anyone help me!?

Anyway, cutting a long story short I eventually got the shoes but not before wrestling a track suit bedecked youngster to the floor and demanding they get me some in my size. As I was saying, on the way to Sports Direct I was bombarded with signs saying 'Let's Make this the BEST Christmas ever!' It was plastered all over Matalan's windows and it got me thinking how is a cheap clothes shop going to help make the conjectural birth date of a fictitious Bronze Age necromancer any better than it was last year? What if last year the celebrations of that zombie philanthropist's birthday was held in a massive mansion stuffed full of dolly birds and champagne Jacuzzis? With £50 notes blowing in through the windows? How about if last year, I'd been given the day as World President and been allowed to kill anyone I wanted and get away with it? What if Christ's Mass dinner last year had consisted of vast bowls of curry served on Natalie Portman's naked body? How was that going to be bettered by Matalan's range of last season's cast offs? What utter shit. On the reverse, what if this Christ's Mass my entire family had been wiped out by an Ebola virus caused by an undercooked turkey. How could a sparkly party dress even begin to blot out the over riding sense of grief and loss one would feel? HOW?

OK, so your house has been been bombed back to the Stone Age, your family have been murdered and buried in a mass grave, but cheer up... IT'S CHRISTMAS!

But this is how we are supposed to think: It's CHRISTMAS! GET WITH THE FUCKING PROGRAM! ENJOY YOURSELF! IF YOU DON'T SANTA WILL RAPE YOU! We are being forced into a state of euphoria determined by faceless corporations. YOU WILL ACHIEVE HAPPINESS AND THE WAY TO DO THIS IS BUY, BUY BUY! The more you buy the happier you will be! Stand up against this overriding tide of SHIT, stop celebrating Christ's Mess, end the domination of our lives by retail outlets, burn the churches so no remembers what it was all about, God, I hate you pathetic humans.

Obviously I'll be spending fucking tons again this year.

PS, I got a new phone, it's great except for when you use predictive text and type the letters T and A the first word that comes up is U2. You have literally no idea how fucking angry that makes me.

Lest We Forget

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

TWTWTW

It's been a bit of a weird week this week, Wincey forced us to work out in the rain leading to me getting a head cold, which is something I never get, we were chased off site by a rampant gypsy horse and an aeroplane finally responded to Logan Josh and me continually waving at them by doing loop the loops and tricks above site (whilst Wincey tried to ruin my fun by talking to me the entire time).

Depressing...

The highlight of the week's vocational activities was that Logan found a rather nice wattle lined Roman well. It's really quite something to see timbers that were last touched nearly 2,000 years ago and despite Wincey's best intentions to stop me enjoying what I do, I really think I've got a pretty cool job sometimes.

About as awesome as archaeology gets...

Amongst the other fun things that happened Berny was crucified for his part in refusing to carry the wheelbarrow plank back up to the cabin at the end of the day:

Pious...

And Barry introduced the world to the bucket boot:

...prick

But I think my week at work can best be summed up by the text messages that I have received over the past week. All of these are genuine messages sent to me by a handful of friends. I'm not going to tell you which ones though.

Jerry lee elvis. First man on the mars

I'm thinking about setting up a family friendly murder mystery weekend. The murder story will be about a six year old who was raped and murdered and left in a suitcase. The families have two days to solve the mystery. I think it will be fun.

I think she sleeps with her brother

He just flipped and started throwing stuff

And another thing, i don't like it when young mothers parade their babies around and sit with them in cafes like normal people. They should keep them at home behind closed doors until they are fit to appear in civilised company without screaming or shitting everywhere.

FUCK CHIPS AND FUCK YOU

Jazz with bagpipes day

Looks like we both got fucked

No, we do all your pictures with blood, piss and crap. 

Thanks for not replying you ignorant bastard. I hope g gets u 2 lick his moist beard and a chinnock drops on your head.

Will you please stop showing my texts where i make rape jokes to all and sundry? I'm never going to get a girlfriend at this rate.

What would you do if you found out there was a photo going round on facebook of you lying naked on the floor of a train station toilet with a bottle of buckfast stuck out of your arse? Just out of interest.

WE COULD STILL BE DRY

Have you ever heard a joke about Barry Manilow and a pair of siamese twins? One apparently exists but I can't track it down.

From the top of the pops on pluto to the hellholes of uranus.

As long as you've got your supervisor on side you're okay. just listen to what they say. They say jump, you jump. They ask you to suck cock, you do it. Don't ask questions, just do it.

Nowt. The flat tyre lead to the pipes falling out every ten yards. He was screaming cunt and growling as he twirld and kicked the pipes around.

I was just in a seminar about the anglo-saxon migrations. I argued it was a good thing that the welsh were exterminated from everywhere except that mountainous shit heap they now call a country. Some of the students say they're going to make a formal complaint. So much for free speech, it's political correctness gone mad. 

Last night I was back in Rotherham Town ostensibly to see Goatleaf, the band Dave had rejoined after their fifteen year hiatus. They've been gigging for a the last couple of months but because I've been hunting man eaters in Eastern Africa and digging up rust in Belgium I missed them every time. But last night was different as I had no pressing engagements. Good God, the last fifteen years disappeared in a flash and it was as though it was '96 all over again. The lads put on a great show and what was more telling was that as soon as Goatleaf had finished their support slot the place cleared out when the headline act came on. It was quite embarrassing and Jonny's missus said to me 'they [the headline act] need dancers down the front' I said 'they need an audience first.'

Goatleaf: you need them more than they need you...

The mid-nineties vibe was also helped by the fact that I knew or recognised about 60% of the audience from my more salubrious days spent in the Tut N'Shive which was Rotherham's premier Rock Bar. It's not hard to hold that title as there was only two Rock Bars in Rotherham at the time. I ended up in SNAFU with Dave and Carl staring at a young lady dressed as Wonder Woman as she flashed her pants to all and sundry. I think she'd been brought along by Jonny's missus to introduce to Dave, but he was having none of it, preferring to get his kicks by sticking money down the pants of strippers rather than talking to a real life girl. Which he did when I left him to go and get a taxi home...

The Lair of the White Worm

Over the preceding weeks I have infiltrated a family grouping of primates who call York their territory. Like Jane Goodall and the chimpanzees at Gombe after gaining the trust of the group I have been allowed unprecedented access to their daily rituals and have made several observations that will only help to advance scientific knowledge. It took many days of offerings to the group in order to secure my standing as part of their social order. Mostly my activities consisted of clearing the rudimentary implements they were using to eat with after meal times. A few times I had to wrestle these out of the control of the patriarch of the group whom I came to name 'Tim'. This led to a couple of unpleasant scenes but learning quickly not to back down or show fear, or indeed, one's back, I demonstrated my willingness to blend into the group hierarchy. I also made an input to the rudimentary system of barter that the group employed. This consisted of several sheets of paper with a nominal monetary fee written on them. Their lack of understanding of modern finances helped in giving gravitas to this offering.

In my tribe we call this 'money'

My observations, there in the depths of the lost valley of Huntington, broke the group into two distinct sub-stratas. There was the patriarch, 'Tim' whom I have already mentioned, and the matriarch, whom I came to call 'Cath'. The tribe used no names when I arrived and these monikers were taken from my faithful hunting dogs I had left back at home. There were many resemblances between the great apes and my dogs, not just physical, either. I noticed as the weeks wore on that the patriarch liked to believe he was in charge of the territory. He would strut around the group's territorial boundaries, pounding his chest and claiming to be the best at everything. This behaviour was quickly cowed upon the arrival home of the matriarch. It was she that did the lion's share of the hunting, literally bringing home the bacon whilst the patriarch sat contemplating his navel. The matriarch was definitely the dominant of the group despite the patriarch's protestations and displays of vulgar power. The patriarch's behaviour is placated by the use of food. There are days dominated by various meal types, as they have no calenders of their own Tuesday is known as 'burger day', Thursday has become 'curry night'. The patriarch knows what to expect on these days and is greatly upset if anything happens to change this routine. These observations scratch little of the group's dynamics and further investigation is warranted to reveal more of the secrets of the group.

Is it sea bass night?

On Thursday Wincey's kid was ill so he took the day off. On the site a revolution occurred. We cleaned the cabin. It was a cultural revolution, literally sweeping out the old to bring in the new. Despite Wincey reneging on allowing us to clean it when he was around we took the initiative and spent the first forty five minutes of the day getting it to a state that was fit for human habitation. Previously the place had been caked in mud and crisp wrappers. The only area I had to eat my lunch from was a triangle of table that was no bigger than an envelope surrounded by rotting wooden artefacts yet to be removed to the laboratory facilities. Even this table was caked in two inches of mud. It is a wonder that none of us had yet caught cholera or at the very least dysentery. After we cleared all the unnecessary tools and equipment and placed them in the large lock up next door, we were able to reach our seats without having to step over shovels, mattock and hoes. The cabin suddenly seemed to take on massive dimensions, we hadn't seen the back wall for years. I could sit on my chair without having to put my knees on my neighbour's lap. The light and space really put the zap on our collective heads.

Hello! Hello! Is anyone else in here?

I travelled down to Birmingham last night to go to the middle day of the Supersonic Festival along with Rhys, Dave and Linzi. The reason we'd all paid £35 for a day ticket? Godflesh were playing again. No doubt you'll remember I saw them in France at Hellfest. Well, despite that being their 'only European date' they decided that the money was enough of a draw and played their hometown of Brum. Of the other bands playing that night I'd only heard of Melt Banana before. Best by far was the psychedelic group Gnod. They were like Neu! and Amon Duul II high on a lethal combination of crack, steroids and PCP fighting in a disused multi story car park. There was an Italian band called Ovo who were 'interesting', Stinky Wizzleteat who were 'shit' and Melt Banana who were 'bat shit crazy Japs'. But how were Godflesh? Fucking amazing. Unlike at France where they took twenty minutes of their set to tune up, they got straight down played some of their best songs, including Like Rats, Christbait Rising, Streetcleaner, Tiny Tears, Avalanche Master Song, Weak Flesh, Spite, Crush My Soul and Slateman. I great night despite Dave and Linzi getting into two different fights and taking two and a half hours to get home having got lost on the M6.