Welcome to Blog Post #71 – Tumble Dryer Advice.

A typical first bus maneuver. Thankfully, this wasn't my bus.

Driver change at Cheetham Hill Tesco, and the guy who took the wheel was, to say the bare minimum, a “rum cunt”. My primary reason for this judgement was the fact he walked like he had one leg bigger than the other and swore about 10 times in the 11 word conversation the two drivers had before driving off to continue the service. 

He managed to get as far as North Manchester General Hospital, which for anyone who knows the area isn’t very far at all, when we slid out of control down a tiny hill into one of those square white and yellow bollard and lampost. The windscreen shattered and the front of the bus sorta fell apart. 

Not ammused. Unfortunately, this would be the one day that I forget my phone, so I couldn’t take any TwitPics. You’ll just have to look at all the pictures of trams or me & Angela eating Subways instead. 

Oh, one thing I will say for Worst, their recovery truck arrived quicker than the Police did. Oh, and I wasn’t injured, before anyone asks, even the dodgy foot survived without any extra damage! 

Anyway, tumble dryer advice. Always buy Tumble Dryers in the afternoon when your feet have expanded. 

PS. Trying to get a new look and stuff on here, might even change the domain again as I suffer from major personality issues…….

No prizes for guessing what THIS one’s about…

It’s been a long, painful, and difficult process. It’s involved days painstaking effort and troubling hardships. I’ve had to endure the worst pain and suffering you can imagine outside of a Barry Manilow concert.

I know, I know, dry your eyes, it’s tuff to hear. But the topic has to be discussed in a blog. I have to share the pain and help the heeling process. I have to write about this;

Terry Wogan has left Radio 2.

I know, I know, I feel the pain, I feel it fellow readers. The morning commute will never be the same again for millions of us up and down the British Isles. No more will the rambling Irish guy who does the Eurovision song contest tell us about the abusive letters he gets, the millions of dodgy old people who love him, and stories about ‘those two who are having an affair’, whatever they’re called.

I have to admit I never really understood a single word he was saying, anyway, but there you go.

Naw, honestly though, people are waiting to hear about the foot (because it’s a very funny subject?) and so, I suppose I had better write somthing about my foot.

Apparently the fact the Health & Safety bloke has broken his foot is very funny, especially to the workforce, who, in there hundreds (literally) stand outside their vans in the yard of a morn, and laugh at the safety guy who “wasn’t very safe, were ya’, lolol”, and whistling the tune to Tresure Island behind my back.

But whatever. Yeah, so, the crutches do not agree with my hands and my ample frame. I regret all those years I went back for seconds now. Back is starting to kill me. I’m bored ridged but there isn’t really many people to talk to (apart from the McDermott Cube of course when he isn’t KO’ed or GETTING DRUNK WHILE I AM NOT ALLOWED TO DRINK) – so, no, its not much fun at all actually.

Apparently WOE IS DANNY is bad for me though so, rather than go on about the negative aspects of the foot, lets talk about some of the positive aspects of the foot.

1. Angela actually being nice to me for once.
2. The laydays being sympathetic towards me.
3. Reruns of Top Gear on Dave. Richard Hammond.
4. Sponge Cake.

So I guess it’s not all bad. Now over to Terry Wogan for his final thoughts;

WELL NOW THEN, my weiry listeners, you’re LISTENING TO the breakfast show, here on, RADIO TWO.

Money, it’s a funny thing.

TODAY’S POST IS SPONSORED BY: REALLY SHIT GIF IMAGES INC.

And I’m quite short of it, but nevermind. It’s there to be spent right? Otherwise it just burns a hole in your pocket.

One more pay day before christmas, however, and as I get paid on the 15th, this gives me 10 days to do some panic christmas shopping. For those previously confused; there should be no shadow of a doubt by now that I am indeed a bloke with that statement, any bird would have had christmas shopping wrapped up in mid-July.

It’s funny stuff though, money. Take British Telecom, for example. They have loads of the stuff, but the only person in the whole of one particular village in Oxfordshire-Buckinghamshire to have the ability to recieve broadband just happens to be the Managing Director.

It’s too expensive to hook anyone else up, but Sir Michael Rake just happened to be 1cm closer to the exchange than everybody else and qualified. What a funny coincidence, huh? It certainly has nothing to do with the fact it’s unprofitable to hook everyone else in the village up, though.

Anyway, following on to today’s post’s money theme, I’m about to check the Bonus Ball number from this past saturday, to see if I’ve won the work draw. Exciting stuff people, this is live entertainment right ere’!

Okay, here I go, opening Google. Opening the website. Clicking on Lotto…….and…… fucking bastard. The bonus ball is 8, my first choice had it not been taken, as it’s my lucky number. I picked 18. Fuck fuck fuck. I really could use that £50.

King & McDermott’s Excellent Misadventure…

Some might say I have something of a nack for forward planning, and they’d be absaloutely dead on wrong. Despite the fact it’s pretty much my job to be ahead of the game, this past Tuesday proved that, actually, I’m a bit of a tit, as I’ll explain towards the end of this post.

So, to set the scene, we ended up in Sheffield to see the Smackdown! TV tapings. We got some pretty wicked seats that got us right up behind the booth, so look out for us on Sky Sports 3 / MyNetworkTV / The Score / BaddabingbaddabangSports.

Anyway, first thing’s first, the piccies. Clicky to open in big with fancy swoosh.

So yeah, it was great fun, we got really close to the action, music, pyro, a Casket Match, and some wrestling occasionally too. All good stuff, but so much fun was being had that by the time we got out of the Sheffield Arena, we where hitting the wrong side of midnight without a paddle.

Of course captain King here has got us return rail tickets that expire the same day. That didn’t prove to be a major problem though, as the last train had left about an hour ago anyway, and the station was shut.

The next train wasn’t until 4am. First thing was first, trying to get people to come pick us up from Manchester didn’t meet with too much sucsess as you can expect. Then followed the obligatory try and find a stupid cab driver who’d take us all the way there for anything less than the cost of his mortage, and again, that fell kind of flat.

In the end we managed to essentially break into the train station, with the epic plan that we’d camp out in there until the first train. That didn’t sit too well with the station staff at first, but eventually they took pity on us and let us sleep in the wating room, while kindly informing us that First, the company responsable for running the 4am train, had decided to have a relapse and run a bus instead.

Trying to sleep on a closed, freezing railway station with about 50 DMU’s ticking over all around you might sound like my idea of heaven, but ultimately it’s not the best place to try and sleep. I can’t remember the exact specifics of the bizare things we ended up doing to pass the time, but they range from singing Mega Drive tunes for an hour to re-enacting the entire second series of Red Dwarf on Platform 2B.

Eventually, the revolutionary train on rubber tires arived, and after a thurough ticket check (…) we managed to get a ride home, mashed up and with little sleep, but at the end of the day, it was a giggle.

Don’t trust me when I say I’ll make the travel arrangments, though.