Rob Hampton's fantabulous site Seb Patrick's fantasterooney site <$BlogRSDUrl$>

The Leeds side streets that you slip down


Thursday, September 18, 2003


I've just arrived back home from Cyprus. It's good to be back in a country where you can drink the water and understand the TV, as well as wander outside without having to rub oil into yourself. I'm not much of a sun person really, I generally prefer colder climates and landscapes, but Cyprus has its charms. I have some amazing tanlines to show off now.

The more I fly the more I hate flying. I wonder if it's possible to develop a phobia? Although to me it seems perfectly rational to be terrified when you are in a metal box thousands of feet in the air. I still can't understand how the fuck they stay up there. Air going over the wings? We are held up by air? Air?
After september the eleventh I've got even more paranoid. I'm sure I'm not alone in playing spot the terrorist when I'm flying, knowing full well that the chances of any attack are incredibly small. Probably less than being struck by lightning.

What the hell would you do if the plane got stuck by lightning?!?

I almost had to prise my own fingers off the arm rests when the plane landed.

I'm in good company in my dislike of flying. Mr T didn't like flying, and apparently Robert Smith from the Cure sails everywhere.

As soon as we got into John Lennon airport (Are we gonna call the bus station Macartney now? Why not rename Liverpool Beatlepool and be done with it? And what about poor Ringo?) this random driver reversed at about 30mph straight into the minibus parked infront of my family. The impact knocked a fella over, and the driver in the car looked absolutely dumbfounded.Either that or he was on something (he kept twitching). Anyway when the police were called we were told (over the phone) to talk to this mad looking driver ourselves and then let the insurance companies sort it out, despite the fact that the accident could have been much more severe. Then the fella who called the police was told off by the operator for talking to her in an excited manner. He'd just seen an accident for Christ's sake! The police are a joke here. Every time I've had to deal with them they have been useless, generally not unwilling but unable to help.
The thing was that that guy could have so easily went into my families car and killed all of us. Seconds of time and luck were all that stopped someone being seriously hurt. And I was worried about flying.

Apparently statistically worldwide more people are killed by donkeys then by planes per year. This may sound stupid but there are a hell of a lot of donkeys in the world, and a hell of a lot of careless peasants waiting to be kicked by them.

I'd rather be killed by a donkey.

posted by Robert  # 12:10 am

Monday, September 15, 2003


I'm still in cyprus, allthough only for a few more days. Its amazing how anglicised this country is, or at least the tourist part. I'm staying in a hotel thant has a pub next door called the "Nags Head" which shows only fools and horses everyday from 1-4 and is staffed by at least two English people. Down the road from this there are innumerous Irish pubs , a KFC, a MacDonalds AND a Burger King. To top this off everywhere sells english breakfasts and plays english football games. There is even a picture of my local pub on the wall of one of the cyprus pubs. This place lives off the blood of tourists. Which, considering the enthusiasm that the cypriot bar managers have for our football teams, may not mean as much as a cultural impostion as assimilation. It's amazing what money can do.

The English tourists, myself included, look terrible. We are all, almost without exception, pasty, fat and, after a few days, lobster red. Next to the locals, who all tend to be slim and attractive (at least until their late twenties), it's quite embarassing. Everyone here is English. It's like i've gone to Blackpool, but its actually sunny.

In saying all of this I can't deny its been a reasonably good holiday. I've done very little except play pool, sit in the sun and read, which is what I had planned to do. I suppose it's difficult to actually have a holiday when you've been idle for the past eleven weeks already. I was planning to spend most of the days drunk on cocktails but i can't seem to take the hangovers anymore, so i've almost become teetotal. Me and my brother did go out on the first night, where we found a good rock club with a decent playlist, but after having to gently squeeze ourselves out of a strip club that my brother went into "just to see what it was like" ( five quid a beer, he only had four) we decided to call it a night. I'm looking forward to going home and going back to uni though.
posted by Robert  # 5:06 pm
Here is a lnk to my old schoolfriend Robert Hampton's site which I will still insist on calling FABland

posted by Robert  # 2:17 pm

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Holidays in the sun

I'm in Cyprus now, currently enjoying a family holiday, which is kinda odd considering I'm now twenty. I have to pay for this internet connection so I'm going to be brief. Cyprus appears to be a tourist trap full of bars and pasty white english people like me. Goodbye!
posted by Robert  # 2:00 pm

Sunday, September 07, 2003

If you're wondering about the reasoning behind title of this blog it's a quote from the film withnail and I. It's a line that was floating around my head when I created this site, and it always makes me laugh, so i thought I'd use it as a title. Plus I'm from a farming background so it has some vague relevance to my life.

I figure that by setting up this blog people will be able to keep track of me and I'll be able to keep track of them, so this site is sort of a cyberspace lost and found. It'll also provide me with a forum to preach my ultra-right wing views without those bleeding heart liberals trespassing on my freedom of speech.

Only kidding. But hey, that's what the internet's for isn't it? It gives the individual the ability to prattle on about whatever the hell they want, no matter how crazy, or boring, or just plain odd it is, with the potential for their drivel to reach an audience of millions. And, best of all, unlike the crazy man shouting in the street you don't have to listen to any of it unless you want to.

Lets start to prattle then.

I've started a new job as a steward. For my first job (first one involving people anyway) I was in Manchester at the Rolling stones gig. I'm not a huge fan of them but I do like a lot of their stuff and, after all, they are the Rolling stones, worth seeing just because they are the Rolling Stones. I was lucky enough to be put on the floor showing people to their seats, and so in effect I got paid to see the gig. The tickets were 150 quid each and the place was sold out.

God knows why they put me on the floor. They seemed to put a lot of the rookies there, which is strange considering showing people to their seats is a fairly importan jobt. Once the gig started it was chaos. I didn't have a clue what i was doing. Some of the seating was reorganized because the crew had moved the mixer and so I ended up just randomly leaving a few people and hoping for the best. The line "I'll just get my supervisor to sort it out" coupled with a hasty exit became very useful throughout the night. People seem to believe that the flurescent yellow jacket that stewards wear bestows them with omniscience. In reality you only get a quick briefing and are left to make the rest up on your own.

I had to spend a bit of the night looking for a lost child with special needs, which was good because I coould just wander around the arena at my leisure. I was only told that the kid was wearing a belt and a grey shirt and so I was walking round peering at young boys and trying to guess if they were mentally handicapped. I felt a bit like Gary Glitter, what with the jacket and all. I never found him. I also had to form a human shield between the crowd and the stones when they went off stage, they walked right behind me, which was kinda cool.

The stones themselves looked surprisingly sprightly for being pensioners. From a distance that is. Once you saw them up close you could really see the ravages time had took on them. Its as if they'd sold out their looks for a life of rock and roll excess. Keith Richard's face looked like a scrumpled up paper bag. Seeing them all up there and still going strong must really piss off the anti-drugs campaigners. Maybe I should start on the smack if i want to be as mobile as Keith when I'm 60-odd. Or maybe not.

Starting to gain a contempt for the general public. When some drunk bloke leers at you and makes a lame joke at your expenxse, and then smiles to himself like he's just said the funniest thing in history...God its annoying. I got told I look like Gareth Gates as well. Almost threw the woman out. She said she meant it as a compliment. I'll bet that even Gareth Gates doesn't want to look like Gareth Gates.

Here's some quality journalism from Peter Hitchens in the mail, regarding a black huntswoman's support of the countryside alliance;

"The politically correct movement doesn't want black people to be intergrated, middle class, law abiding and normal. It wants to use black people as a stage army of the oppressed for anti-British propaganda and is actually annoyed when they don't fit its prejudices. PC people will secretly loathe Mrs Lake and view her as a traitor."


Watch out or the politically correct movement will get you too! At least its not the working class, eh Peter?

posted by Robert  # 9:46 pm

Thursday, September 04, 2003

Its 11:55. I have published a blog. The sense of accomplishment i feel in doing this is not diminished by the fact i am only wearing my underwear. It is, in fact, increased.
posted by Robert  # 11:04 pm


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