Monday, 13 May 2013

Who the hell is Harry Potter? Discuss ............

Greetings from shitty Oxford (it's raining). It's me here - the sporadic one.

I've named myself  'the sporadic one' because my blog posts are currently sporadicer than someone with Tourette's Syndrome shouting 'COCK'.

It's all down to the same old excuse - work. I worked so hard last week that I couldn't feel my face.

Anyway, enough of that work milarky; after putting in a good 6 hours of solid labour, I decided that it was time for some fun. And because I have got a military mind, I had already rung my friend Sarah to suss out things that a 7 year old might like doing ........... and with the results in, I decided to approach the rug-rat .........

"Izzy, do you want to do something fun?" I asked her. Which is a bit like asking Paris Hilton if she would like to drop her skids.

"YEH!" yelled Izzy (that kid needs a Swiss Finishing School).

"Bally good, because I have organised a treat for you," I said before adding; "and May and Guy are coming too." [May is one of Izzy's bessie mates, and May's Dad, Guy, is a chum from the village. AKA DJ Hyper].

"MAY'S COMING TOO?" screamed Izzy, so excited that she looked like she was going to vom up the chocolate Santa that she had eaten for dinner: "WHERE ARE WE GOING?"

Jeez, that girl's shouting is going to land me with an early Ear Trumpet.

"We are going to visit the film studios where they made the Harry Potter films," I replied with my fingers in my ears in order to minimise the damage.   

 "NO WAY! THAT'S THE BEST!" hollered Izzy. I was glad that she was pleased, even though I was a little perplexed, not having any idea of who Harry Potter was myself.

I felt triumphant like Napoleon Bonaparte, except that my arm wasn't chopped off ........ nor did I have an arrow in my eye ...... or whatever it was that happened to the clumsy git.

Soon the designated day arrived, and Guy and May turned up at the house in Guy's bling mobile (a Jaguar XF sport), to whisk me and Izzy to the Harry Potter film studios. I say 'whisk' but the journey was more of a fingernails embedded in the dashboard, and an intercontinental ballistic missile in the boot kind of experience.

Twenty-three minutes later and we had completed the 44 mile journey to our destination. My eyes were watering and my hair was all stuck out behind me in a horizontal fashion because I had pulled so much G. Relief washed over me, and I spilled out of the passenger door, kissed the car-park, and shouted, "I'm alive!" whilst simultaneously punching the air.

And because I am like Mother Theresa (except that I don't have hair growing out of my ears), I have got some photographs for you .......................

Pic.No.1 We've arrived! This is the location where all the Harry Potter films were made. Even though I didn't have a scooby who this Harry Potter chap was

Pic.No.2 Here is Izzy and her chum May. I forgot to mention that Izzy broke her leg skiing in Austria, so she had to be pushed round in a bloody wheelchair. But then I realised that it was a good thing because we were automatically ushered to the front of every queue. Kerching!

Pic.No.3 This was the Great Hall where this Harry Potter chap ate his meals. It looks real until you look at the roof, then you can tell that it's a set (but not one where badgers live)

Pic.No.4 This is still in the Great Hall, and I was a little perturbed by all the people with no faces

Pic.No.5 This is the set where Harry Potter slept

Pic.No.6 Dorm room? The people have gone from having no faces to having no heads. On the plus side, at least people won't judge them by their looks

Pic.No.7 Look! A comedy dog in the wallpaper. And that stone staircase wasn't stone. It was made of egg boxes or something similar. I can't quite remember

Pic.No.8 May had a fight with an ugly bloke in a dress. He had a machete and she had an orange stick. I still had my money on May

Pic.No.9 More people with no heads standing in a wobbly cottage set. I have just thought of another advantage; they won't have to clean their ears out

Pic.No.10 This was cool - it was a Set that used perspective to make it look like it was a full sized corridor, but in reality it only went back about three feet and was only four feet tall

Pic.No.11 A bloody big clock thing. Is it me, or is that bloke in front posing at a provocative angle?

Pic.No.12 I had a face-off with this guy and I won

Pic.No.13 Here we have May and Raspberry Ripple (aka Sicknote, aka Izzy), mesmerised by the Harry Potter Sets

Pic.No.14 After seeing all the indoor sets, the tour took us to the outside bits. I thought that I had accidentally wondered onto the set of Brookside, but apparently this is Privet Drive, where Harry Potter lived. Even better, there was a comedy leg kicking a an unsuspecting woman in the vag (see left of the picture)

Pic.No.15 Whilst we were touring the outside Sets, Guy discovered a bar that served beer. But he ended up gutted because he accidentally ordered a non-alocholic beer whilst I had the real thing. He complained bitterly to staff and they swapped it for him ........

Pic.No.16 This is me - Hurrah! With my new short red hair and a small child doing a comedy walk in the background

Pic.No.17 Here we have a triple decker bus. And a man sat on a motorbike looking like he is guffing in the general direction of a small child

Pic.No.18 Old house? I really should have done some revision about this Harry Potter bloke before embarking upon the tour

Pic.No.19 After exploring the outside Sets, we went into the 'Special Effects' exhibition. It looks like they have featured several of my ex-colleagues

Pic.No.20 I love dead animals I do. Imagine my excitement when I stumbled across a number of hydraulically-driven deceased mammals ... I LOVE the beatboxing dead chick

Pic.No.21 RARRRR! I found this comedy stuffed fox thing in the 'Special Effects' department. It had the same expression that people have when they come round to my house for dinner

Pic.No.22 Just to clear up any confusion ..... I am the one on the left

Pic.No.23 All the sets were mocked up in paper before they were built ......... I'm glad that wasn't my job

Pic.No.24 This is Guy posing in front of a whole street that was mocked up in the studios. If you look carefully, there appears to be a Freisian cow trying to scale the fence in the background

Pic.No.25 "The Sale of Unicorn Blood is Forbidden" sign. If I found a unicorn, I would make a bacon and unicorn butty with brown sauce and a fried egg .... and maybe a processed cheese square

Pic.No.26 "Puking Pastilles". I just liked him because he was vomming and I could eat what he vommed out [note to self ... should I divulge this in public?]

Pic.No.27 This was a mock-up of the Harry Potter castle. It was WAY bigger than it looks in this photo and it was used to film all the 'outside the castle' shots. The lighting on this exhibit kept changing so that you could see it in daylight and at night

Pic.No.28 This was the Harry Potter castle in twilight. It's obviously haunted because there are orbs up at the top

Pic.No.29 This was the Harry Potter castle at night-time

Pic.No.30 Ok, I really thought that the construction of this bridge was cool ...... only because I am an engineer and my grot-mag of choice is 'Engineering Weekly' ...... now published with added bridges and dams

Pic.No.31 Hurrah! It's me! I am standing by the Harry Potter castle so that you can get some idea of the scale. It was more enormous than a spitting camel. And my hair looks really red. Jane dyed my hair red, she did

Pic.No.32 At the end of the tour, we went through some kind of apothecary. Guy eased the load a bit by pushing Izzy along in her wheelchair

All in all, it was a top day out. But rather expensive for the price. It cost £100 for all four of us to do the tour, which equated to 24 bottles of wine or four bottles of Bolly dahlink. I felt cheated. 

But hey, the journey back to Oxford was just as memorable as the inbound journey, due to Guy's natural exuberance behind the wheel. I covered my eyes and just shouted; "BLOODY NORA!" the whole way back as he weaved his way in and out of the traffic at 100mph.

And this beautiful scene was only punctuated by Izzy and May shouting "STOP SWEARING!" back at me. 

It was like participating in 'Apocalypse Now'.

Pic.No.33 After the hair-raising action of being a passenger in a car being driven by a mad-man, it was with great relief that I arrived back home ......... alive ................and then spotted this rainbow at the bottom of my garden

Apparently, there is a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, but when I went to dig it up, there was just a water-treatment plant at the end ........ most disappointing.

Never mind ....... more to come dahlink.

Sunday, 14 April 2013

Oxymorons: My Exotic Holiday in Weymouth

Hello dahlink, it's been awful here. In between quaffing Bolly, I have been working terribly hard; something that I normally try to avoid at all costs. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. And I knew that I had overdone it when I broke a nail on my keyboard last week.


"Sacre bloody bleu!" I shouted at Naughty George, "I'm not the type of person who should be working really hard, I should be reclining on a chaise longue, being hand-fed Brioche and Caviar by porcupines!"

Naughty George responded by staring blankly into the middle distance and belching.

"Is that all you can do?" I yelled, watching him turn round and wander off to gawk at his favourite bit of wall.

It probably sounds a bit harsh, shouting at a mutt. But he is so deaf that I am thinking about mounting a pair of ear-trumpets onto his collar. Not only would it help with his hearing, but it would add to his comedy value.

Anyway, I digress. Back to my over-exertions on the work front: Just as I was contemplating the idea of an onerous work-filled future ad infinitum, I heard my iPhone ring. Well that's not strictly true: it just vibrated because I dropped it a week ago and now the screen is cracked and the speakers don't work.

Vibrate Vibrate! Vibrate Vibrate! ......... went the iPhone.

I made a dash to answer the it before it buzzed itself over the table edge. "WHAT?" I asked.

"It's me, Jane," said the voice at the other end. Jane is my cousin and she's not as tall as me. She likes wearing girly things with flowers and hearts on, whereas I am generally mistaken for a Mechanic or a Garbage Disposal Operative.

"Oh hello," I said.

"What's up with you, you miserable git?" asked Jane sympathetically.

"I broke a nail," I replied, before adding, "what can I do for you?"

"Fancy going on a holiday?" she asked.

"God, yeah," I enthused, "I'm exhausted - I answered four emails last week."

"That's lucky because I've already booked somewhere," Jane grinned.

"Really? Where are we going?" I asked, somewhat intrigued.

"Weymouth," she replied.

"Bloody Weymouth?" I exclaimed loudly, "that manky seaside place on the bottom of England?" (I am not a fan of places with sea near them, because the sea has 'bits' floating in it and the sand sticks to your legs - bloody horrible).

"It's not manky," declared Jane indignantly.

"It's just that I had somewhere a bit more like New York or Italy in mind," I responded. 

"Well, we're going to Weymouth and we're going on Friday," she stated firmly.

That proper told me.

And so the date approached ........ and for once I was uncharacteristically organised. I realised a whole day beforehand that I hadn't organised for anyone to look after Naughty George. But, following a few frantic phone-calls, everything was sorted and I dropped him off at a friend's house.

"God, he stinks," commented aforementioned friend.

"Yeah, I know," I agreed, "he needs a bath; it's been a couple of years."

"He's got a yellow haze around him," said friend after eyeing Naughty George studiously.

"Ok, ok. I get the picture ...... he's a bit ripe. But are you still ok to look after him?" I asked.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll just open a couple of windows."

Having successfully dealt with the mutt issue, I allowed myself a day and night of relaxation. But I was rudely awoken from my reverie when Jane arrived at the house, eager as a puppy to get on our way.

"Let's go!" I shouted enthusiastically, running out to her car.

"Where's your luggage?" asked Jane quizzically.

Bloody nora! I just knew I had forgotten something .......... in this case ......... packing some stuff.

I gulped loudly after realising my omission, and Jane shouted "you're bloody useless," in an exasperated fashion.

Honestly, some people get stressed at the most minor of oversights. So I ran back into the house (in an energetic fashion) to sort it all out. 

Needless to say, I packed my case in about 10 minutes flat (by just picking the stuff that was at the front), and was soon good to go.

And because I like Mother Theresa (except I don't have a moustache), I have got some photographs for you ......................

Day 1 - Weymouth Holiday

Pic.No.1 This was Jane when we got stuck in a traffic jam on the way to Weymouth. She can drive with no hands and everything

Pic.No.2  This is me doing a half-hearted Zoolander on the way to Weymouth. We were stuck in a traffic jam and I took 237 photographs of bollards, lights and fences to try and keep myself amused

Pic.No.3 Finally, we arrived at our hotel. It's that big white thing that looks like Alcatraz

Pic.No.4 This was our room at the hotel. It was a lot better than I expected because the hotel looked like a prison from the outside

Pic.No.5 "JANE! Can you take a comedy picture of me lying on my bed?"

Pic.No.6 As soon as Jane saw the bed, she went to lie down. I am going to get her a t-shirt with 'I'm Knackered' emblazoned on the front because she always likes lying down

Pic.No.7 I got really bored whilst Jane was asleep

Eventually Jane did rise from her bed, at which point I told her that I was so hungry that I was going to gnaw a chair leg. She told me that we would get fined by the hotel if I gnawed a chair leg, so instead I entertained myself by reprogramming the TV to Arabic channels.

Pic.No.8 Eventually, we went to Prezzo Restaurant in Weymouth and the food was bloody brilliant. You could order loads of small dishes of pasta ...... a bit like Tapas

Pic.No.9 This is Jane in the Prezzo restaurant

Pic.No.10 This is me in the Prezzo restaurant. I like pictures with me in them. Earlier that evening, Jane had dyed my hair red but I am not sure if you can see it in this picture

DAY 2 - Weymouth Holiday

Jane decided that she wanted another tattoo (she already has three - but I am too wussy to have any and I'd probably get bored of them quickly), so we trawled around all the tattoo parlours in Weymouth to find someone good enough to do it. It was a mission that accomplished within one hour.

Pic.No.11 This is the outline of the tattoo that Jane and I designed. It features the name of her son, Mitchell Owen (my gorgeous nephew), with some flowery shit underneath

Pic.No.12 This is the tattooist at work. It was a bit like a scene from the film 'Deliverance' because she was squealing like a pig. Both Jane and the tattooist tried to persuade me to have a tattoo but I firmly rebuffed the idea

Pic.No.13 This is the finished tattoo .......Christ ..... there was proper pain getting this done. [Note to self: don't get a tattoo}

Pic.No.14 After the tattoo, we walked down to Weymouth harbour. There were loads of boats and everything

Looking at the boats got a bit boring after 3.5 minutes so we decided that we were going to visit the Sea Life centre in Weymouth. It's basically a bit like SeaWorld in Florida. Except 243 times smaller.

I had half expected the highlight of the tour to be a half-dead cod floating sideways on the surface of a stagnant pond, so I was pleasantly surprised with the plethora of fishy shit that they had on display .........  and here is a synopsis of it all ............................................

Pic.No.15 Look! some weird seahorses-that-look-like-stick-instects type of creatures

Pic.No.16 A Shark swimming through the big swimming pool type area

Pic.No.17 And then the excitement peaked

The only thing better than seeing a shark's bumhole would be seeing two sharks shagging. I put that comment on my 'customer review card' as I left the centre.

DAY 3 - Weymouth Holiday

I wanted to go and see 'Portland Bill' which is a bloody huge lighthouse situated on the Portland Peninsula. I am not quite sure why I wanted to see a lighthouse because they are basically just big pocket torches. I suppose it came down to a choice between that or shopping. And I bloody hate shopping.

Bring it on Portland Bill!

Pic.No.18 This is me outside the lighthouse thingy. It was bloody freezing and I had to wear THREE coats, hence the slightly rotund profile

Pic.No.19 This is Jane. She announced that she had hypothermia 5 minutes after exiting the car. That's because she only packed summer stuff even though it was April in England. Muppet

Pic.No.20 After looking at the lighthouse (we couldn't go inside because it was a cash-only entrance fee and because I am like the Queen, I don't carry cash - arse), we ventured another 50 yards to look at the sea

Pic.No.21 The sea can be a bit samey once you have seen a couple of waves. And the air is colder than a date with Ted Bundy

Pic.No.22 This is a rare picture of Jane surrounded by natural stuff, like rocks and water. It's a bit like capturing a picture of a Yeti because 99.99% of the time, her normal habitat has a 52" TV backdrop

Pic.No.23 A big pointy stone thing was situated just behind the lighthouse. I think that they are called obelisks or something like that. You can tell how big it was by looking at the size of the chap on the right hand side of the picture

By the time the picture above was taken, we had been outside of the car for about 13 minutes. 

"I'm not staying outside any more!" hollered Jane, "I am about to die from exposure!"

What a wuss. 

So we got back into the car and set off back towards Weymouth and the hotel ..... I could see that she was dying for a sleep.

Pic.No.24 But on the journey back, I insisted on doing a bit of sightseeing .... like stopping at the top of this cliff. There was an awesome view of Portland Beach and the blue sea even made it look a bit exotic

Pic.No.25 And then on our journey, we accidentally stumbled across a prison built into the hillside. It was full of very naughty people and reminded me of a quote from a film (can you guess which one?): "You are NOT the messiah, you are a very naughty boy."

Pic.No.26 This was the sign outside the prison. It details some of the history behind the building (click on picture to enlarge)

Our final destination of the holiday was a visit to a fort built in 1450AD by Henry VIII. Unlike me, Jane doesn't really like old buildings, but she readily agreed to visit because she had eaten some dodgy shellfish earlier in the day and was grateful to go somewhere with serviceable toilets.

Pic.No.27 This is the fort that Henry VIII built about 650 years ago to stop Johnny F (French and Spanish) invading England

Pic.No.28 Look! Here is the ancient door and flagstone entrance with Henry VIII's coat-of-arms above

Pic.No.29 This is the courtyard of the Fort. The serviceable toilets were through the door on the left

And so my dahlink, after making you trawl through that plethora of photographs, I am going to bid adieu to both yourself and Weymouth ...... bloody great holiday it was ........ thanks cousin!

Pic.No.30 This is me and Jane on our way home in the car. I am wearing oversized glasses because I read somewhere that it makes people focus on your eyes rather than your arse. 

So, have you been up to anything exciting recently? Pray do tell .......

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