Our Rock is an Alcoholic and We are Happy-Hour. Part One

My shower is an idiot. There are two in the house but they are identical and I choose the one with ventilation because I value being able to both breath and see when I am in a confined space.

On the road I’ve gone weeks without a proper wash; I’ve also nearly drowned a couple of times. This isn’t about such severe ends of the bathing spectrum but more to do with an apparatus that was invented by a person and constructed by another; about the methods of its operation which I assume must have had a certain degree of reasoning behind. Continue reading “Our Rock is an Alcoholic and We are Happy-Hour. Part One”

Sir Stuart Bell. End of the Party?

We have been learning much about the right way an elected official should behave. Sir Stuart Bell, Labour MP for Middlesbrough since 1983, seems to be teaching by bad example; the polar opposite of what his constituents expect and deserve.

Not only is Bell’s presence largely absent in the Houses of Parliament – his figures for debates and votes well below other MPs in the area – he hasn’t held a public constituency surgery since 1997, citing an incident where he was physically threatened during one as the reason why. Instead he says he meets with constituents by appointment. Continue reading “Sir Stuart Bell. End of the Party?”

A Brain Full of Slime

There was no me on the radio today. For anyone tearing their hair out in desperate grief here is a picture of me feeding dinosaurs at the weekend:

Unfortunately I’ve been sick these last few days with what at first I took to be a deadly new contagion that would torment my organs into a viscous paste before sending my pitiful soul straight to the upside-down hell of the agnostic; fortunately, after rest and gentle consideration it turns out I have contracted the more common but no less debilitating man-flu virus. Continue reading “A Brain Full of Slime”

Notes from a Bar-Crawl

The following notes from the pub are a waste of my time and yours. Consider yourself warned.

If you think it’s a rhetorical question it isn’t, and vice versa; if you find it offensive, it’s meant as a joke; if it makes you go all tingly down below in your sexy parts then I have pornographic movies in my apartment, and lubricants, and amyl nitrite.

A Drunken Afternoon in Middlesbrough
A Drunken Afternoon in Middlesbrough

Continue reading “Notes from a Bar-Crawl”

Headline for a Piece about Blog Entries

There would be words here, the words would tell you things, there would also be links. That one takes you to tside.co.uk which is where the proper-serious-correct-and-checked-by-a-teacher-so-it’s-not-shit-and-libellous-like-most-of-the-stuff-on-here will, in future, be found.

Me with my shirt off, around the time you were born.

Any of the views expressed on this blog are poorly constructed and offensive to both creed and intellect; they do not, nor will they ever, reflect those of Teesside University. Continue reading “Headline for a Piece about Blog Entries”

Radio Ga Ga

I got to the Click station early and after babbling my usual brand of confused and terrified explanations I was shown to the studio where a broadcast was in full swing. Two girls were being shown the ropes by a chap I took to be a Professional but they were giving it such gusto that I was unsure if they actually were noobs like me. They finished off their set and one of them spoke to me; she was cute as hell. Concentrate, Mr Parlett.

Enter Ben ‘The Redwood’ Harker, Producer/Presenter of the 4-7 slot and all-round nice bloke. He talked me through what we were up to and sent me to fix a couple of audio clips in the editing room. I didn’t break anything so was quite pleased about that. Continue reading “Radio Ga Ga”

Living Tasted Better Than Healthy Felt

I’m pretty sure the people I live with think I’m a bit of a freak. Notwithstanding my forgotten but undoubtedly questionable conduct when drunk, I have shown to have in my possession an amount of kitchen equipment that would seem to rival all but the most thorough of small rural restaurants; and yet I haven’t cooked once.

I’ve been here nine days or so yet I haven’t cooked once. There’s a reason why – a mighty, engorged, sweating mass ten inches above where I would want adjectives like that used. Yep, I’m a fat bastard. A condition I wouldn’t say has exactly crept up on me but nor have I attempted any form of escape. I’m one of those guys where the fat sits hard on the belly and the arse, if I was a dead president’s head in a jar, 1000 years from now, I reckon I’d get on alright with the ladies. Nervous twitch n’all. Continue reading “Living Tasted Better Than Healthy Felt”

Hello World…

Well… here I am.

I’ve been in Middlesbrough three days now, moved here after a year in Glasgow to attend university. I haven’t lived in England for more than six years and although the mortal terror I feel almost constantly is more a product of my own personality disorders than an indictment on the town it is still very strange being back among my own kind. Continue reading “Hello World…”

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