A few years ago we started calling my Dad “The Buzzard”, due to his bald head, beakish nose and general birdlike appearance. As it turns out we were referring to a Vulture which is more bald and Geoff Coleman like in appearance, rather than the Buzzard, which is well feathered European bird of prey. However… Continue reading The rise of the birthday Buzzard
This is the time of year that we are supposed to be reflecting what the generations that went before us gave in our time of need. Maybe thinking about the ramifications and horrors of war, conflict and strife. Not necessarily strutting the poppy whilst looking miserable or giving it the big one at the local… Continue reading Why I hate Movember
It was after I read an article somewhere a few years ago that I began to think that things were going wrong for British Pubs. I can’t remember what it was in or when, but it was about John Illsley, former Bass player from Dire Straits taking over a pub in Hampshire, which turns out… Continue reading The death of our pubs
I’m referring to the state of chaos and confusion that is the country of Greece this week, two before Christmas. It seems that the ignition for this spate of rioting was the shooting of a fifteen year old boy by Police, but I think that the real momentum is probably rooted in more wide ranging… Continue reading Rioting in the streets is good, no?
I see him every morning in the park, watching intently as his pedigree Beagle shits in the flowerbed. Dogs? Pet fucking dogs. He stands upright and moans to other dog walkers about the state of the country, young people and insolence. He wants to move on but the animal wants to stay and sniff, so… Continue reading Old East End gent
I’m learning how to play guitar, Mandy brought me one as a present for my birthday and I’m properly getting in to it. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do as it’s been my favourite sound for as long as I can remember. I used to play the Saxophone, grade 8, although that means nothing… Continue reading I’m learning the Guitar
There comes a point in a mans life when he has to take responsibility for his own actions, put the past behind him and start thinking for himself. For most people this change usually occurs between the ages of 18 and 25, a time when the heady excess of youth gives way to a more… Continue reading The 4 O’clock bar
This morning FC reminded me of a funny story that happened years ago. I used to know of this guy that everyone called Hooter, not an ugly bloke although he did have a fairly robust nose. On one of those drunken Saturday afternoons in the pub during the nineties Brat Boy approached Hooter and said,… Continue reading Why do they call you Hooter?
A long long time ago I got to know this bloke who everyone called Clint. Then one day I found out that this was actually his nickname and not his real one, I can admit to feeling a tad disappointed. One day after lunch I approached Clint and said, “Alright Clint, so why do they… Continue reading So, why do they call you Clint?
The trainee gamekeeper on the 8:52 had in her hand what has become the scourge of London in the 21st century. The takeaway coffee cup. ‘Grab a coffee 2 go’ is the latest fast food American craze to arrive at our shores, and it is commuter types driven by sheer boredom to faddism, that are… Continue reading Grab a coffee 2 go