There’s No One Quite Like Grandma
No sooner had I posted the last blog than I had a stream of communications asking the simple but appropriate question “But What happened during the weekend ?”.
I totally understand your frustration and dilemma dear reader, but I had so much background to describe in regard to what went wrong I had scant opportunity or space to give expression to the running order of in game events.
So let me suckle your desires in the fullness of my eloquent prose.
A weekender like no other as I’m sure you now appreciate, but we are nought if not adaptable creatures and there were a number of firsts across the 5 days worthy of note.
I gave inference to Mrs Preet’s cooking last blog which may have pointed you towards her presence.
To clarify and update you historically.
On the numerous previous weekender events in this parish they would be carefully scheduled for times when Mrs Preet would be working long weekends and to accommodate the intrusion in her domain that sweaty gamers bestow, she would oft sleep elsewhere, the location of which I paid scant attention to, just not here, was all I needed to know.
A year or two back she did stay around as did others, but this is never an ideal dynamic as your dearly beloved Preet needs certain freedoms from the yoke that her absence offers in order to fully engage myself in the total immersion of abusing in a caring way those who I hold fraternally dear to me.
The plan this year being the first since she stopped bringing a wage into the house and became totally reliant on Preets hunter gatherer skills was to spend the weekend no more than a half mile away with family members.
Conversations were had as to whether Derek would go or stay and despite my estimable love for our faithful hound I felt he would be best tended to at her side rather than mine.
Clearly the constant ebb and flow of changes in the attendees here meant that this afforded her more “interpretation” on whether to be in the house or not. Having given her ticket for Thursday nights gig away and only having Tholdan here who she adores incomprehensively, she stayed the night leaving early next morning with dog. She had left us a huge Cottage Pie for tea seeing as how Frenchy was going to be eating and socialising elsewhere on the Friday (have I mentioned that previously?) so unavailable for galley bitch duties.
Her staying away extended to just the one night and having ascertained that nobody much was going to be here she was back in situ on Saturday night although Frenchy was firmly in place for sustenance fulfilment roles as usual and required. A constant “I’m not intruding am I?” the rhetorical question that knows no negative response, left me duplicitous in her belief that she wasn’t. We coped, even through the embarrassment of trying to play constant background porn on the laptop while we gamed. I had a vast and not totally eclectic dvd stack to amuse and distract and was desperately trying to keep feeding the minds of Twisty and Frenchy with a broad variety of delights. One of them had brought a couple of bizarre specialist type movies but the problem with mine is they are all so vaguely titled it can be a bit like a Tombola of surprises to see what animal vegetable mineral combination the title may allude to and then provide. So we gamed gamefully around the dining room table with a silent backdrop of imagery to occasionally draw the eye. I should point out that on the occasions we retired to the drawing room to watch widescreen DVDs they were only of comedic persuasion, the porn was strictly backdrop.
I always find it useful to have combi collections as even if what is showing is not to your taste, like trains in more developed countries than ours, there’ll be another one along in a minute. As such you can have interesting juxtapositions of the infamous Jordan and Dane porn movie followed by a Twink masturbating himself in a shower. It was this latter clip that confusingly drew a certain francophiles attention, to the extent that much later when amateur milf porn strayed firmly (wrong word to use in this context) into gilf territory, our dear Frenchy pleaded with us to put the gay porn back on, despite the rampant enthusiasm being displayed by the pensionable pleasure seeker.
All of this as I said, had to be toned down whenever we heard the approach of Mrs Preet. Interestingly after the weekend she made comment that alluded to her firm belief that all said porn had been delivered to this abode by the esteemed if wrongly maligned in this instance Twisty. Once again, in my house as in Floppy’s the man takes a bullet. He is our very welcomed human shield.
While just Tholdan and myself, we rattled our way through numerous card games including LOTR of course, Magic (within the limitations of my decks) and even AGOT which we played without alluding to where commas were in the card text thus proving it can be played without rancour. Having started our weekend with live comedy we went on to watch DVD shows of Jim Jefferies –amazing brilliant hard edged etcs, and then Billy Connolly – old tired grumpy meandering (I can’t imagine anyone being like this can you reader?).
Once Twisty and Frenchy joined us it was a mad squeeze to play a couple of games of Fluxx before he left. As with the seemingly infinite variety of Munchkin themes Fluxx is developing a broad and wide expansion set. It is my considered opinion that on first play of each new variety e.g. Monty Python Fluxx, Zombie, Pirate or whatever, they provide much added humour, but having played it a few times it is, as indeed it should be, just about the game, the theme becomes secondary and in some cases – quote three lines of dialogue, or, talk in an outrageous french accent, Tedious in the extreme. Having said all that, I must give Stoner Fluxx a try.
When reduced to three, clearly RPG’s were out of the question. Not to say there aren’t scenarios out there, but there just weren’t the game players at the table who could have had the wherewithal to source and run them. Likewise Board Games weren’t going to work, although had we got our shit together, Settlers of Catan could’ve happened, but a general malaise had set in.
Twisty had brought Infernal Contraption – not quite as frustrating when drunk as robo-rally but equally brain testing and fun to play, 4 stars, and Army of Darkness which, despite the number of times we played it, still left my head fried but more to do with my intoxication than the game itself which I will give 3 stars. We also had Frenchy’s Cutthroat Dungeons game which was a marvel on a number of levels, firstly that he remembered to bring it, and secondly that it was bought in his usual stick a pin in Amazon way which has previously brought us such delights as Dancing With Dragons. A fun and simple game to play CD feeds our Machiavellian traits well even though we did have to remind ourselves that we should really work together, at least until the end game, or there likely wont be one, 4 stars.
Being a team more used to multi playing the games never reached the infamous 8 hour LOTR in Amsterdam marathon. This meant we rattled through them in a manner that while repetitive did afford some variety. The Twisted one’s skill in Magic the Gathering deck building is commendable and I was able to show him in intricate detail exactly how some of his decks should be played when in the hands of a true expert.
We also required comfy chair breaks which led me to introduce them to what was my second viewing in 2 days of Jim Jefferies Alcoholocaust, it gets better every time, go listen to the Jim’n’Eddie Talkin Shit podcast. We then had to seriously do something about Frenchy’s continued insistence that Stewart Lee was a self indulgent bore.
So we tied him to the sofa, we didn’t want to but he insisted, and made him watch If You Prefer a Milder Comedian Please Ask For One. I resisted going for the “joke that Joe Pasquale couldn’t steal” routine but he will get to see that next time. Despite his determined resistance, the human loofah soon fell into our trap and was chortling and guffawing at the commanding comedic talent before us. We reached the end of the show and he turned to us and proclaimed “I was wrong, but can we watch that shower scene again now”. I smiled knowingly at Twisty and our epiphany completed declared “our work here is done”.
The company if restricted was as excellent and welcomed as ever, we brave resilient few held firm the flag of weekender freedom, the abuse was spread in profligate manner amongst each other and non attendees. So let this be a warning to those who failed, Not Mark, Mr Floppy, Sweepie, Kit, the Milfslayer, Next Doors Puppy, the Cyclist without a cycle, Caffrey the always a student, Thumper and or Scriitch, and all other pretenders to be attenders, I won’t even dream that Tomx will ever be unshackled by Jess. Sort it all out brothers!
The announcement that the aforementioned Lee will be performing at a comedy festival not 14 miles from my abode next May is a most pleasant bonus. Bed spaces are running out please book early.
Have A Week
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And I Would Walk 500 More
Where do I begin?
So much to tell you and so little time to do it. I think I just have to make a tough decision and focus on the most significant event and then who knows, we may get around to talk about the other matters in the fullness of blogtime.
You all know how much I live for those jolly Lost Weekend real life events that get organised and planned with military precision on a twice yearly basis amongst the chosen good members of this gaming fraternity. Loyal and attentive readers will be aware that one such event was timed for just last month and much thought and perspicacity went into the choosing of venue and dates. Indeed, it was way back in March when gathered at Sweepies homely hobbit hole that our merry pranksters did sit and ponder on all things calendar, in order to studiously avoid a birth marriage or death celebration date. I could of course point out at this juncture that it is rarely Sweepie or your goodsome Preet who are the difficult to accommodate despite it being either his or my own domain that will afford such an event, but that would be terse of me and you all know how un-terse I am. I have waxed lyrical on how uncommitted Pompey can be in submitting to the fullness of a whole weekend but I must give them recent credit for having developed and learned of the benefits of immersement.
So the weekender was set with Frenchy Thold Sweepie and my good self setting it all in stone before putting the invitations into the ether for the chosen ones of Pompey and Not Kent.
I had rsvp’s confirming attendance from Kit, Not Mark, and Twisty, with a sick note from Mr Floppy from his mum excusing him from playtime. Seven goodly souls would provide us with a hardy weekend of Cider, games and robust abuse.
The first portent of doom came from Tholds tyrannical harridan. Who accosted me while attending Thumper and Scriitches BBQ to tell me she needed him back in her presence on the Saturday night as someone had to be there to carry her home when she got pissed. My fondness for her knows no dissolution but I felt it necessary to berate her for overuse of her feminine thumb, even offering to ply her with Vodka at my own expense if only she would allow him to crawl out from beneath it for a full weekend once in a while. While not falling on deaf ears my words did fall on stony ground, and my wanting to continue to be thought of as her “loveable rogue” plus fear of her wrath switching from husband to me, meant I had to keep my moaning to berating texts to Tholdan himself.
At least we had plenty of notice and it did mean we could all Seven play away from Thursday to Saturday afternoon before he leapt like David Essex in Silver Dream Racer (one for the kids) onto his metal steed to return to perform crutch duties for his beloved.
Days went by and plans were made. Not Mark sourced a sufficiently welcoming Cider Press and ordered a barrel of their rankest brew. Your carnivorian scribe organised the timely slaughter of a local lamb in order to provide sustenance. Varieties of sausages were tested and chosen, freshly laid friendly farmed eggs were approved by Frenchy’s exacting standards. Games were being written planned and slotted into the itinerary of the weekend according to numbers required. All was progressing as it should.
Kitabras was always a vain hope for independence. He failed to foresee the eventual need to have the last weekend in September free when he got married a good few years ago. This put up a hurdle that I was confident his indifference to his close family would overcome. I even insisted he change his job in order to take some control of his free time and duties to his peers, but to no avail. His excuses were as always weak and unmanly but not unexpected. We were now down to five and a half. Not a disaster we have worked with worse and had much fun.
In times of adversity, bombshells will resonate loud long and lasting.
It was twenty years ago that I first met Frenchy, so long ago he was still English, even single. Since then we have shared many soulful occasions and I have lived in the full and enduring knowledge that he would always be there for me as I would for him. Trials tribulations and hours of painful need have been lived through, I treasure his fraternity and would never ever let him down or choose another before him. Man love in a very special way is more dependable and reliable than any other bond.
If I had kept the texts between Frenchy and I in regard to his pathetic excuses I would transcribe them here verbatim, but unfortunately, so heavy were the tears I wept that fell onto my touch screen phone they deleted and dissolved not unlike my dreams.
Despite having a diaried commitment to be with us all, our good friend Frenchy made the unnecessary and heartless decision to attend an evening meal in honour of a mere work associate choosing to leave. This was to be on the Friday evening requiring him to remain at home until then with the weak promise of platitude from arriving at Preet Manor around 2am Saturday morning.
Your wounded scribe Preet was mortified but resilient. I resolved never to mention this abominable incident ever again and assured Frenchy we would come through this and move on.
The effect this had would prove that ripples flow further than we might at first suspect. Given Tholdans choice of metal thigh throbbing steed, and now Frenchy’s late arrival our poor subsidiary victim became Sweepie. Who would now be reliant on travelling alone back and forth the 500 miles. This would of course not be a matter for concern to him as he has commitment and resolve that would forgo the formidable extra cost this journey would now necessitate.
The gods had other thoughts.
We now had Tholdan and Sweepie arriving separately on the Thursday, Tholdans earlier than expected arrival required Lady Preet to give up on a night out with her Preety as we only had two tickets to a gig, she charitably gave hers over to Tholdan who I don’t recall thanking her, and it was to be me and he who went to enjoy the most excellent and educative show by the activist comedian Mark Thomas. Twisty and Not Mark, would arrive late Thursday and then Frenchy the middle of the next night waking just in time to wave Tholdan off in the morning.
All was not completely lost and I am ever the optimist as you well know.
The week came slowly, but here we were on the Monday morning with our rag tag plans in place. Perhaps it was the fact that the lamb was not slaughtered due to the smallholders priorities altering. I would expect that a ritual slaughter being cancelled would justifiably have had an impact in the support we expect from the God of Man, because clearly he then decided to go on holidays leaving the God of Woman’s Needs To Suppress Mans Enjoyment in charge.
It was the day that the arse fell out of Sweepies chariot that set bells of doom ringing.
Despite all efforts he was unable and unlikely to have it fixed in time to make the journey. Should the grease monkeys dictate that repair was uneconomic he would also need to be closer to home in order to purchase a replacement promptly. He was a broken man as were we all at this news. Particularly Not Mark, who had not only purchased enough Cider with Sweepies hearty apple fetish in mind but also required 5 of us there at the same time in order to facilitate a particular game he had written and devised over many work shirking hours. Plans were put in place for early starts Saturday morning to play said game before Tholds departure. We shall overcome for we are nothing if not resilient adventurers.
Not Mark’s commitment was somewhat brought into question when he announced he intended “going shopping” in a totally different direction from Preets Castle on the Friday morning, meaning Twisty would arrive at his house on Thursday but be kept shackled until they both arrived around 2ish Friday afternoon.
Communications were now flooding back and forth between our intrepid few, and a final decision had to be made particularly by Tholdan in regard to whether we give up completely. To his credit and my esteemed gratitude we decided to make the best of what was now a pretty bad job, after all, things couldn’t get worse.
Thursday arrived and to his credit Sweepie had tried in vain to the end but was no nearer having transportation or clarification. Despite my pointing out to Not Mark that shopping was a girl’s sport and should be done in his own time not ours he was determined to journey an extra hour in the wrong direction to a mythical welsh place with lots of double consonants to discover a hallowed games shop on the Friday morning.
Tholdan arrived and we set off to the gig were we both were fully entertained and a good time was had with beer and everything in our front row seats. A good and pleasant start to a weekender that was now officially ON.
We returned to my humble drum and played plenty of cards until the late hours, most of which I won of course.
We awoke refreshed on the Friday morning all set to meet and greet our Pompeyan chums at lunchtime. Whiling away the morning in a carefree gay abandon of one on one card play. A few texts exchanged twixt Twisty and myself with particular guffaws when the aforementioned shop was apparently closed on their arrival.
Tholdan and I rolled our eyes in a knowing manner and awaited their show in a few hours time.
It would have been about 1.30 pm that I got the text from Twisty. This would have been about the time (with fair wind and traffic) we would expect to hear the car arrive. With that timeframe in mind, a message that read “We have crashed the car and are being towed back home” was treated with derision as the weak attempt at jovialness from travellers no more than a mile from arrival. My reply text was in appropriate colourful speech and we both awaited the sound of the front door opening.
Pictures of the front end of the car can be viewed on my Facebook page. Twisty suggested it would be ill timed and poorly received for him to relay my text to Not Mark that if he hadn’t taken the purposeless detour he wouldn’t have encountered that other car ever in his life.
Both Tholdan and I were deflated. We retired to the widescreen to watch the most excellent Jim Jefferies Alcoholocaust DVD to raise our mood.
As ever and as you have come to expect, the Preet brain was vigilant and active. My mind worked overtime with permutations and calculations of a cartographical and time dimensional nature. Twisty had travelled half way here, he didn’t have a car awaiting repair, he had gifts in his bag. He was also situated almost enroute between Frenchy’s evening debacle and my palatial and somewhat empty abode.
My next communicat with him was sit tight and try and get some rest, I was making plans.
I then congratulated Frenchy for his timing and poor decision making by gifting him the opportunity to make small amends for the personal and heartfelt slight he had besmirched twenty long years of camaraderie with. He could indeed arrive at Not Marks house by midnight, whisking Twisty off at the witching hour and drive “carefully” through the abandoned countryside to get their collective arses here by 3am at the latest.
Once I had assurance that Twisty had indeed been collected I turned my phone to silent and we went off to bed, in full knowledge we would be awake at dawns crack in order to get some gaming in before Tholdans lunchtime departure.
Like church mice the two intrepid travellers sneaked in at 2.30 not disturbing me until Frenchy had downed half a bottle of my cheapest Brandy. I bid them sweet dreams and pointed out an early start was expected.
Sure enough we were all up by 8 and games commenced with determined aplomb.
Having failed to finish a cottage pie made for 6 hungry men by Mrs Preet the night before I duly served it up with sausages for breakfast. A wholesome start to anyone’s day I feel.
By 2pm there was just the three of us to continue valiantly on until the Monday. I had never expected Not Mark to travel up through the night what with a hire car to organise and what have you, but I did think it churlish of him not to send up the barrel of cider with Twisty.
We all agreed that one day we would look back on all this and still be unable to laugh. They all awaited the inevitable blog, so here you have it loyal readers. Thank you for your continued support, I have to look for it as far and wide as I can now that Frenchy has shown his true worth.
Have A Week
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Make It Soon Please
Long time no blog. How’ve you all been keeping?
I have so much to tell you about I don’t know where to begin. You have been so used to a weekly update on my action packed life that to imagine how much I have lived through must cause your mind to boggle.
Let me start by saying the response to the competition I posted in last blog has been underwhelming. I have had some entries but so far only one has passed the necessary score which remains beatable before the deadline so I suggest you just get on with googling those song lyrics you slackers.
Our hearts were lifted slightly by the news that SWTOR was now available for preorder with an expectation it would be out before Christmas. This has been tempered by the expected news of a further “slight” delay with Amazon showing a delivery estimate of 5th January. Obviously Tholdan disputes all of this as nonsense but we can all remind him that May 4th came and went without his cast iron guaranteed release date being anymore than a weak hoax that only he fell for.
Meanwhile all apart from Verd and Caffrey have returned fulltime into Lord Of The Rings Online. The imminent launch of the Isengard update should keep us suitably nourished until SWTOR release in March.
I say nourished but it does feel like the mmorpg time is becoming less and less particularly for the likes of me who has to juggle work life and families demands in unequal measure. Sweepie and Thold have even fallen into Conan recently but Kit and I are holding firm resistance to another potential time and resource drain.
Given the high levels of expectation around Star Wars The Old Republic and adding in our levels of attention deficit disorders it is to be hoped that it delivers. My great fear is that the break up of the fellowship will involve even more blood flowing down the River Anduin.
A highlight of my absentium has been my meet up with the Pompey Krew at the home of he who is not called Mark in the delightful region of the Forest of Dean.
I was to be the unexpected guest at the party. The grand surprise of which Pompey remained blissfully unaware. This was assisted by their lackadaisical approach to reading this blog and also by me arriving early and first on the morning of the said event. I did manage to step out from the shadows when the main party arrived to much shock and, I hesitate to say, joy.
Pompey have until recently had an urbane approach to weekenders mostly due to the fact that they all lived in close proximity. They had mostly failed to fully commit to the full immersement of themselves into withdrawing totally from reality over the full period. The Floppy One had been the stalwart to their events despite having no concept of calendar lunar or gregorian, he had managed to host what have for me been most pleasurable long weekends over recent years. On each of these occasions I have usually been the only one who arrived at the start and left at the end. Some such as Twisty and Not Mark had slept over at the grand pyjama party for some of the nights and others such as Milfslayer, Nobby and The Failed Swinger have tended to drop in for daytime manoeuvres only. Not for them the full intensity and endurance commonly ensconced by Dorsetmen good and true. Although this has fallen down to just the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Frenchy, Thold, Sweepie and yours truly) over more recent years. It makes for a different environment.
Given the departure from the deep south by Not Mark they have had to rethink their organisation and motivations. Just as Dorset effectively mobilised following my departure a long eleven year past, so Pompey are making similair adjustments to their thinking loops. They’re still not quite there yet though. This weekender was just a 36 hour affair and there had been no departure from the venue by Not Marks wife and child. Strangely it did not overly effect the playtime. Their home is wonderfully separated to allow a well proportioned gaming room with ablutions access. I did however miss the porn dvd loop on the TV which has been a mainstay to any event in the proximity of Milflsayer and Floppy. There is also a repressant when females are even in fairly close proximity (the obvious exception to this rule is Thumper who has failed to dampen our excesses in any way since first we met. Even her girly fondness to make kitchens in tents out of cardboard boxes hasn’t led to any of us considering her a deterrent to uncouth behaviourisms) which we probably should have paid more heed to when conversation wandered into websites involving ladies undergarments at the breakfast table.
A digression here, but that particular conversation involved me trying to disentangle a longstanding misconception around my first meeting of she who would become Mrs Preet. It transpired that three separate mythologies about my good and pure self had intermingled over the years, meeting her on the internet, selling women’s soiled undercrackers, and sending dirty washing to a submissive for cleaning. Any one of these in themselves leads to shock and awe from those who haven’t known me well and true for long years, to mash them all into one story is unjust and unwarranted and fails to recognise my diversity.
Back to the weekend.
Whilst Dorset weekenders revolve around cards ie MtG LOTR AGOT, Pompey do love their board games.
For me this leads to a need for concentration which is always a struggle but I did manage to play most of one game of Talisman while asleep at the table, remarkably waking each time it came around to me with inceptive recall as to what I was doing or whether I was subject to miss a turn.
It also allows for greater expansion of my gaming repertoire and I enjoy the difference and newness of them all. One game which as a result of trying out at the weekender I have decided would fit well with the Dorsets is Fluxx which I have presumptively added to my Amazon Wish List in the hope that my impending birthday will prompt purchase from one of my beloved brood. Better that than yet another DVD boxset I may never get to watch.
Having reached my self prescribed word limit I must attempt to pull this blog together. Not sure what I’ve enlightened you with this missive, a usual pointless ramble I suppose..
I had fun at Not Marks.
Pompey are getting better at weekenders.
SWTOR wont be out this year
Its my birthday soon.
That’s about it really. Enter the competition while you can, I am off on yet another Villa holiday with most of my family from Saturday so my next blog may provide wry and incisive witty comments on my observations of the British abroad, but probably not.
Its Edinburgh Fringe at the moment so I’m surprised I haven’t regaled you all with my thoughts and reviews on the shows and podcasts I have witnessed digitally. Maybe some other time, maybe never.
Until we next cross words in union.
Have A Week
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See One Feel One Touch One
I promised a competition and your faithful comrade at arms Preet has never let you down now has he?
So firstly let me clarify what the prize is, as clearly, those of you with no interest in the winnings will show less regard for the contest. Apart of course from those amongst you who would compete for pride rather than prize.
Loyal readers will be aware that I am nought short of being a veritable aficionado in the realm of c list comedic talent.
Whilst I have time for the arena filling whores such as O’Briain, Bailey, Izzard and their ilk, and have even confessed to a tittering at McIntyre despite my godlike hero Lee’s satirical cynicism on his form. It is beyond these that I have sought and found sustenance aplenty in regard to both pleasurable and thoughtful inspired witticism.
Youtube; Simon Munnery, Edie Ifft, Michael Legge, Susan Calman, Rob Heeney, Matt Kirshen, Josie Long, Mark Steel, Jim Jeffries, Robin Ince, Mark Thomas, Paul Foot or Al Pitcher.
All worthy of your time and efforts and I can only apologise for those I have missed for they are legion. Plenty others like Pappys, Gareth Richards, Nick Doody, Gary Delaney and Catie Wilkins are I am sure equally worthy if not exactly for my ears.
So it is one of this troupe that I have decided to put forward as a worthy offering within the confines of this spiffing compo. You could win for yourselves a genuine original copy of Robin Ince DVD The Nine Lessons and Carols for Godless People, featuring (Frenchies favourite) Stewart Lee, Richard Dawkins, Isy Sutie, Ben Godlacre, Simon Singh, and of course the omnipotent Richard Herring, plus interviews with Jarvis Cocker and Dara O’Briain. It’s a class act show folks and it could be all yours.
Just answer the following simple questions;
The bright eyed and focussed amongst you loyal readers will have noted that each blogs title is an actual song lyric. The questions are all about these lyrics. What’s the song and what’s the link in that week’s blog. I don’t just pull them out of a hat you know. There is some thought goes into this process even when I’m rambling.
The song themes started with blog 15th July 2010 but that was a song title and obviously linked to the CD I bought and commented on. You’re not getting the prize that easy, the blogs with song lyrics did not begin in earnest until the first blog of this year January 6th so let’s make it a simple start with that one.
Question One. January 6th title Sick and Tired You’ve Been Hanging On Me.
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Two. January 13th title His Truth Will Abound The Land
(I remember this blog stirring up a bit of controversy!
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Three. March 22nd When You’re Through With Life And All Hope Is Lost
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Four. March 30th. Bring Out The Banners From The Days Gone By
What’s the Song and what’s the link?
Question Five. April 20th Do You Get Your Kicks From Computer Radio
A toughie so will be worth an extra point.
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Six. May 20th I’m In Pieces Baby Fix Me
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Seven. June 1st, You’ve Got to Laugh Or Else You’d Cry
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Eight. June 5th Too Much Of Anything Can Make You Sick
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Nine. June 23rd I Would Like You To Dance
What’s the song and what’s the link?
Question Ten, This Blog July 2nd
Just one point for the title it aint rocket science to work out the link muppets.
So it’s a point for the song title and a point for the link, plus a bonus point for the title in question Five. A possible 20 points in total.
Obviously the song titles will be easy with google (maybe) the links you will have to work out yourselves, some are obvious others less so.
The first person to email me and make more than 16 points in total will be rewarded with a legitimate original DVD posted to them at my very own expense. I will take no responsibility for the postage service losing or breaking the prize, but will keep proof of postage as evidence I held up my end of the deal. Closing date for the competition will be the day I receive the first 16 points scored on answers or 30th September 2011 whichever comes first. If nobody gets a high enough score I will make a clinical judgement based on my own whim and reserve all right to do so.
Those who access the blog mostly at http://www.nusilme.co.uk/nusilme.co.uk/blog/ will probably need to go to http://my.ddo.com/guild-cannith-nusilme/ and access the older blogs in the archive there. Alternatively the compiled blog is still available in a large word doc for the criminally insane. The email address for this competition and for any other enquiries is derekthelegend@gmail.com.
Good luck chums, remember you’ve got to be in it to win it.
Have A Week
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I Would Like You To Dance
In two days’ time it’s the First anniversary for this Blog.
When Kit said just a year ago that he had started the guild page on DDO for Nusilme he told his old faithful stalwart Preet here that it was my job to look after it and fill up the page with stuff. Little did he know what he was about to unleash.
Having been inspired by the marvellous Mr Richard Herring and his unsurpassable daily blog now over ten years strong, I thought I would give it a go. In the full and faithful knowledge that I am great at starting things but blooming crap at sticking with them. You ask any of my wives.
I know I have found it increasingly difficult to find time to post something on a steady weekly basis, but overall, I’m pretty damn pleased to be still at it. Thanks for sticking around too. I am often touched and warmed by the emails I receive thanking me for warming your drab lives and pointing the way forward in your worldly education. I am your cultural guru and let’s hope we can continue to pleasure each other.
Time has become an unquantifiable concept in terms of the frequency of this blog so I will write about things as if they happened yesterday or will be occurring tomorrow. In any case, just like a podcast or a programme I Sky Plus’d in the firm belief I would ever get around to watching, you my loyal reader will choose the moment of your reading and delectation regardless of the date I post it. I am also confident that you revisit these charming elucidations frequently at your leisure on many occasions across timespans best suited to your own busy if somewhat irrelevant lives.
Does anyone else get confused when having recorded a TV programme, and got around to watching it months or even just a few days later, when the weather forecast comes on? No? Just me then.
What an adventure we had in Dorset recently. Thumper and Scriitch invited those of us important enough, to a summerish BBQ in their significant gardenage. It was an interesting pleasure to attend an event with the gaming posse accompanied by wives children and dogs ( in no particular order of significance). For myself and Mrs Preet this obviously involved a long tortuous journey through the mountains and over foaming rivers on swinging rope bridges. The availability of an electrified caravan secluded under the gently swaying trees was most welcomed.
Much alcohol was imbibed, meat was consumed in carnivorous mass and it was indeed most pleasant to meet with the more fair and foul of our clan, one of whom had travelled from the most far east just to pay homage to his Laird.
It was not until we were confident that the hunter gatherers were at sufficient levels of drunkenness did Scriitch decide to pour a gallon of petrol onto the woodpile and give us all a unique first hand display of the long forgotten Olympic sport of “jumping backwards as far as you can from a bent forward stationery position”. He is clearly a master at this event and a round of applause ensued once people picked themselves off the floor from laughter and recovered their sense of hearing after the BOOM.
Tales were told into the night and reminiscing of battles fought, dances danced and kingdoms won, friends and enemies of yore were remembered fondly as we each took turns to find the biggest branches we could and hoist the considerable flames ever skyward.
Unbelievably the weather for that day and night was remarkably clement.
Way beyond the witching hour even the many and scattered sparks from the flames could not keep us conscious or coherent so we retired to various bed spaces, in house in tents and me and she in the said caravan. Your crafty scribe ensured he did not get the bed next to the door that didn’t quite close properly due to the electric cable run in from outside. So verily indeed I slept like the proverbial untreated Rowan log. Mrs Preet less so.
I was awoken by the pitter patter raindrops thankfully all outside, plus the acute urge to not shit the bed.
The unthawed chicken pieces precariously warmed over the coals the night before necessitated an evacuation at an ungodly hour shortly past dawn. It has been sometime since Preet had need to lean back against a tree and ensure nothing dropped down onto the back of his boots. It is said that the fungi that has begun to sprout on this now hallowed spot is worshipped nightly by the fey and sidhe of the region. Thus natures circulatory cycle remains unbroken.
We were halfway home before anyone else rose from their crypts leaving ever more liquidated deposits in each Little Chef lavatory on route.
My next venture into the real world of gaming with solid people will occur sooner than I had anticipated due to an unexpected invite to the forest abode of the one not called Mark. The Rock Steady Pompey Krew are assembling next month and as an honorary member of said kin I have been cordially invited. They ask for nothing more than my cheery smile and witty banter across the table, and I am only to willing to bring succour to their sad little existences by my presence. I have long lived with the pressures of social diary and life balance afforded me by being so popular to so many. To be beloved in so many parts of the realm is a burden I endure with my usual bonhomie. For those not invited I can only suggest you watch and learn from your good friend Preet’s heartwarming social skills. Maybe you will feel wanted too one day.
I must remember to mention this weekend away to Mrs Preet soon.
Meanwhile in the important world of MMORPGs it would appear that abandonment of DDO has been almost absolute as we have crawled inevitably back into the routine and grind of LOTRO. The Beards toons have trundled far to quickly and effortlessly up to level 40ish before realisation that our beloved original characters such of Kitabras, Sweepie, Tholdanwhatever and even Preet himself are our true online personages, and worthy, even in cold passionless resignation, of our attentions.
A lot of discussion regarding whether it is worth buying the next update of Isengard is occurring, as if it is in any doubt that we will not all dig into our deep and dank purses and throw more hard earned at the addiction. Thus far only Thold (well known for coming first and fastest) has actually spent, with the rest of us pretending we will hold out until after the release date so we can use Turbine points rather than “real cash”. Its not as if we are actually going to spend any of those points on any of the other useless crap that’s in the store. So we have nearly all level capped at 65, just Preet dragging his stilettos at the moment. Ooh I can’t wait until September when level 75 becomes the cap. It’s not like we will pant and grind and race like fools to ensure we are first there at the summit to boast and frolic in the glory and adulation of those who don’t understand how important it is to our feeling of wellbeing and status. All rumours of a November launch for SWTOR will by then have dissipated like leaves of remorse along the well trodden road of crushing disappointment that we have grown to love and inhabit since first we pressed play on that cassette player attached to our ZX81’s.
I was actually prompted to complete this blog today in order to wish a most happy filled birthday to TAFKAL (The Arsehole Formerly Known As Leader). Yes indeed the one only saved from being the baby of the group by the likes of the Jubie, Caffrey and the man with a chin as smooth as a child’s buttocks Tomx. Kit straddles the divide between young bucks and mature masters. I am sure his delightful and loving wife, and the child he likes, as well as the child he doesn’t even bother to name, have bestowed many gifts and affections upon him. Jubie and I have sent wishes on facebook that will of course remain unread due to the fact he only put up a profile to tease his younger fans. Sadly his IT skills don’t stretch to adapting himself to the social networking phenomenon. He may want to consider asking Tomx to give him some training.
Have a Week
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Too Much Of Anything Can Make You Sick
So Britain’s Got Talent is finally over. Yet again, the nation allowed itself to be sucked into Simon Cowell’s hype and bullshit machine only to find that the entertainment was on par with your average episode of Ballamory on CBeebies.
Is BGT fixed? Are there all manner of shenanigans that go on behind the scenes in terms of contestant recruitment and ‘grooming’? I fucking well hope not – because if THAT was the best that could be conjured up with the deployment of careful manipulation, then Britain’s Got Problems.
We knew we were in trouble from the very beginning. The judges emerged on to the stage, holding hands as usual.
Then there was a gratuitous and unnecessary lingering camera shot that crawled slowly up Amanda Holden’s legs. All I could think was ‘Ugh – Les Dennis has probably had his tongue there, and Neil Morrissey.’
But the show isn’t about the judges, it’s about the stars-in-waiting, and these are apparently the ten most talented newcomers in the nation right now. Brace yourselves…
STEVEN HALL: This man has to be stopped. Actually, if we do need to stop him, let’s just get the contents of his hard drive examined. Ironically, for a silent act, Steven had lost his voice, and there was a terrifying moment as he stood with Ant & Dec where I swear a look flashed across his face that screamed ‘This is it – I’m going to get my cock out on live telly. Here we go…’. Fortunately, he didn’t.
MICHAEL COLLINGS: The trailer trash star Michael sat down and reprised his cover version of Fast Car that had got him through the auditions. Essentially, he took a boring song and made it annoying. Cowell’s incessant bigging up of this tuneless scrote this week has been mystifying – fortunately the voting public saw right through it and Collings has already been erased from Britain’s collective memory. Expect to see him in a hi-vis bib on the BGT arena tour, checking tickets.
LES GIBSON: Fuck-a-doodle-doo – where to begin with this bloke? Les seems to have pioneered a new style of mimicry where he doesn’t feel the need to try all that hard to sound like the person that he’s impersonating. Like a kind of loose, jazz brand of impersonation. Helpfully, he announces their name so that we know who we’re meant to be listening to. His workmates will tear him apart when he goes back on Monday morning. He’ll probably also get a one-off ITV special in a few months, like that no-mark from last year.
JAMES HOBLEY: Boring. Next.
PAUL GBEGBAJE: The shy pianist. I wasn’t sure if that was his surname or the order that he played the notes in the finale of his act. If Paul could have made his eyeballs pop out as he played, he’d have been a shoe-in to win.
RONAN PARKE: Little Mister Controversy. Depending on who you believe, this kid is a singing marionette who has been quietly groomed by Cowell for the past two years or just some kid who sings at parties hosted by ex-Norwich keeper Bryan Gunn now and again.. Simon let me down on this one – I expected him to say “For legal reasons, I cannot offer an opinion”, but no, he waxed lyrical about his waxy new Justin Bieber clone instead. Amanda stumbled her way through a sentence that almost came out as “From the moment we set eyes on you… erm, in that audition… not, erm, in 2009 or anything.” Shock horror surprise, this morning the papers are full of his Million Pound recording contract.
JEAN MARTYN: The wild card – could this piano-punching advert for HRT win the thing? No – she came dead last, in spite of heartily singing along to the tunes she was destroying, even though there were no microphones within 20 feet of her. She’s probably got one of those special phones with massive buttons at home. Notably, Jean was the only female in the line-up, which automatically makes her Britain’s Most Talented Woman – doesn’t it?
JAI MCDOWALL: Nothing remarkable about this bloke, a scruffy light opera singer – a Paul Pisspots if you will or a Roughell Watson. Nothing remarkable until he stands sideways on and you notice that he has a nose that looks capable of opening a tin of beans. Now that would have been an act.
RAZY GOGONEA: Dancing, body-popping, mild contortion, a sleep inducing penultimate act. Oddly, Razy announced that he’d only had two hours sleep the previous night, trumping Michael Collings, who confessed that he’d had five hours shut-eye. It is believed that Jean Martyn hasn’t slept since 1983.
NEW BOUNCE: Last but not least, it’s one of the most highly-rated acts, with some vaguely racist comparisons to JLS being bandied about wherever they go. On the night, it looked like someone had built a time machine & reimagined the Jackson 5 without that kiddy-fiddling, dead one in the line-up. As Simon said about New Bounce afterwards: “You guys are perfect – after all, this show is about me finding someone I can exploit and make a massive short-term profit from.” OF COURSE HE DIDN’T
There it was then, the ten most talented newcomers in the land, and while we waited for the votes to be counted, we were treated to some opera-singing kid from America who might not have been a human being actually. If she is, in less than seven years from now, she’ll be waving a gun around in an Iowa motel room, accusing an invisible friend of hiding all the dope. I guarantee it.
So, as we all wondered if it would be New Bounce or Ronan who won, the whole thing spun right off its axis as JAI freakin McDOWALL was announced as the winner. No one seemed to know what was going on, and the winner himself looked thoroughly embarrassed about it all, probably feeling like Lyle Lovett did when he got Julia Roberts to marry him.
It’s twelve hours later as I type this and I’m still not quite sure what happened. This is like when Greece won Euro 2004 – it’s completely and utterly off the map. What happened? Did Cowell respond to the allegations that it’s all a fix by fixing it to make it look like it definitely wasn’t a fix?
All I do know is that Jai is a shoe-in for the lead role in ‘Barry Manilow – The Opera’ and I’ll just have to cling to that for now…
Have a BGT-less Week
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You’ve Got To Laugh Or Else You’d Cry
I’m not even going to bother apologising for the gap, I’m just going to do my best to get stuff up online as often or infrequent as I can. Live with it fans.
Working full time is so tiring and yet here I am a month in and I have to say I am a much more contented Preet in that the stimulation of decision making and expectations of unrealistic deadlines is keeping my brain enchantingly engaged thus far.
I suppose I should revisit my last blog and try to pick up from there and avoid repetition, but as I can’t access it from this PC you will have to put up with whatever metaphorical dung my metaphorical fan throws at you. Trust your endearing scribe to make all effort to entertain, even if conducted in a Stewart Lee style of overly repeating the same tired, unfunny in itself, phrase until, if only through collective embarrassment at the humiliation he impounds upon you just for sticking with him, you laugh like a fool.
I do hope you are enjoying the second series of his Comedy Vehicle. Obviously uncultured amongst you like Frenchy are unable to persevere with the sardonic self deprecating repetitiously delicious barbs of wit Lee oozes forth, but then we all know the french prefer Messrs Bean and Hulot to anything that requires cultured thought. Just thank the illusion of a god he hasn’t got a Chateau in germany as their slapstick approach to “humour” knows no wit at all. I still recall the torture of a foreign holiday Mrs Preet and I attended upon in a predominantly german tourist hotel. I actually much prefer such venue as it means I have no idea what paltry nonsense people are wittering on about at the next table or sunbed, leaving me in blissful ignorance of their last holiday, favourite restaurant, or how many kids they have left behind in hunland. At this particular hotel we were staying all inclusive and as such I steadfastly refused to retire for the evening unless I had imbibed my appropriate amount of “free” cheap Brandy in the bar. The nightly entertainment was astoundingly awful, being geared towards the germanic sense of the bizarre. By the third night I was almost at the point of foregoing my nightcaps to relieve me of the nightly torture that not even the stiff upright spectacle of north europeans ballroom dancing could assuage. It was then by fortuitous accident of available seating, I discovered that if we sat at one particular table at the far side of the stage, I could have a clear view backstage where the female “entertainer” had to conduct an astonishingly frequent amount of quick costume changes. Clearly under those hot stage lights it was pointless and potentially discomforting for her to wear any underwear. I felt for the young woman, I literally did, and on a nightly basis for the rest of our stay.
The other television spectacle that is clearly a must watch on some of our screens at this moment, is Game Of Thrones. Unfortunately for the poor amongst you this is only available on Sky Atlantic. I’m sure the box set will be with us soon enough. Should you not have bought and watched this within let’s say, a month, of its BluRay release, I will forbid you from ever reading my blog again. Anyone who has not got the wherewithal to take profound pleasure in this glorious spectacle has no need or right to be sharing in my gloriously meandering missives. The unenlightened can just go back to their televisions and watch Americas Next Top Model, nothing here for you.
Some amongst you will be aware I had cautious anticipation in the build up to this series. Mainly view to George RR Martins track record of screenwriting for Beauty and the Beast. However, all fears dissipated in the first hours episode. I am enthralled by the almost perfect characterisations. Every new character is so painstakingly accurate to the books it is entrancing to have words made flesh before my eyes. The boldness of both the violent and sexual content is unexpectedly mature and HBO should be commended. Perhaps some of the CGI castles in the distance scenes could be polished up a bit, but this is just me being picky.
Meanwhile, back in the mmorpg world we mostly al inhabit, things are continuing in the limbotic state I mentioned last time. LOTRO appears to be the current time waster of choice to the merry throng of Nusilme. The –beards are all trotting on nicely in the high 30 levels, we even have Jubie join us but sadly he failed to call his toon Jubeard, that won’t stop us giving him that name by proxy though. At least until he shaves his Bieber hair to a Michael Stipe styling and posts it as proof on his or his auntie’s facebook page.
We also now have Teamspeak up and running, many thanks to our erstwhile leader Kitbeard for organising it despite the fact he has neglected the somewhat essential criteria of having a bloody microphone on his wind up PC. I do really think he should brush up on his IT skills like what I have.
Finally for this week/month/entry or whatever, I have been encouraged to give consideration to a competition within this blog just for you my loyal readership.
It will be based on previous blog entry titles, and there will indeed be a proper prize for the winner. So I will hold you in anticipation as I will need to have access to my compiled blog doc before I set it all up. Maybe next issue, maybe later. It should be a way of rewarding the persistent and most loyal amongst you as it should be, but even new readers should be able to work their way backwards and take part.
So, until next our paths cross in this sphere of engagement my fellow travellers.
Have A Week
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I’m In Pieces Baby Fix Me
How busy have I been since my last blog? Quite busy would have to be my reply.
When you actually consider how not busy I have been for a while now, the fact that I actually have things going on, in and out of work, has necessitated a considerable change for your prosaic scribe.
Regular and loyal readers will be fully aware of my change of role. This now necessitates me doing a proper job 5 days every week with expectations of being there every day. No working from home, small likelihood of hotel stays and while getting home at reasonable hours I am, in the initial stages of this transition at least, bloody knackered mentally.
On the positive side it is proving to be quite stimulating and it feels good to be utilising my many well established skills. It has kept me away from blogging but now the initial head rush has abated I should be able to organise my time better for your delectation my entrusted confidantes.
Outside of paid employment the expected drop of grandchild number four went very well and to everyone involved the birthing of my third granddaughter has been a pleasure. I have ridden across the world twice to visit her now, and did of course hold her up naked before the stars to proclaim “behold, the only thing more magnificent than yourself”.
Add to these, election fever, attending a Comedy Festival weekend and the need to finish off my Podcast reviews blog, your poor overstretched Preety boy hasn’t known where to start or stop.
Meanwhile, in game, what amazing changes have been wrought upon those of you DDOists.
For verily indeed decisions were made, somewhat brought about by my absence for grandfathering duties and Kit’s sojourn to the land of the free.
Still waiting patiently for SWTOR release (May the Fourth having passed uneventfully as we knew it would despite Tholds resolve) and with most of us reaching Reincarnation point for a second time and shuddering at the thought of doing it all yet again, decisions to revisit LOTRO took hold.
So here we are back in the Lone Lands, as of last night at least. We have made some hasty self imposed rules. We must all be dwarves, we must all have names which end –beard, we must all join the old but still clingingly active McUen kinship, and we mustn’t send money from our previous toons to glide the way.
Well, we have mostly stuck to them so far. Verdbeard, Sweepsbeard, Tholbeard, Kitbeard and Preetbeard, all gathering apace having reached the low 20’s within a week.
So, what’s the verdict on LOTRO now it’s free to play?
Firstly, as you will be aware from my rants regarding DDO, free to play my arse!
The limits on things like bag space and traits have wound me up to the point where I have opened a VIP account already. Mind you, that will be cancelled after the first months payment so that extra bags and trait slots open up and stay open after cancellation, but no doubt something else will appear locked before me certainly as levelling up occurs.
Secondly, it’s far too blooming easy. I have had to consider, is this because of long experience in the game and knowledge of MMO’s generally, or is this just a dumbing down of LOTRO to get people started and hooked. I have to say I think it is the latter. It did feel like the only way you could end up getting killed prior to lvl 20 was to act rashly which of course we all have done. XP was being racked up at such alarming rates in the first few levels it was embarrassing and yes, a bit boring really.
My limited experience so far of skirmishes is that it is little more than a manic run around hack’n’slash. Maybe that’s not the true picture, but having played DDO with puzzles and no respawns to worry about it does seem a bit frenetic going back to LOTRO.
A few of us have dabbled with our original toons which has been superficially entertaining, particularly as nobody remembers half of their skills and so many tweaks have occurred to gameplay, but for now its no more than a dabble.
Overall what’s the Preet verdict?
Well, it’s not ideal, at this point in our game playing journeys, neither DDO nor LOTRO are giving total gaming fulfilment. They both have their good sides, so pleased to have “follow” back for when my tea making skills are demanded, but we have so much invested in wanting SWTOR to be a decent game I can only say it feels like there’s a lot of water treading going on at the moment.
From my perspective as most of you are aware, gaming is very little about the challenge or the game in itself. Provided it isn’t Farmville simple or stupidly complicated, and can be mainly point and click operated, I am willing to try most things with my limited dexterity and concentration span. For Preet it’s all about the social. I can and do run soloing at times when others are off having real lives. I don’t trust pugging anymore but don’t need it for game advancement. I play to be with my friends, the rider to this also being I play in the expectation of being friendly with my friends (in my inimitable fashion of course). Those I have met and those I have yet to meet alike. It is my social isolation in the land of someone’s fathers that necessitated this type of interaction and it remains my motivator. Long may it do so in any game we choose.
We do however need to sort out something like Teamspeak soon, I have talked about this in the past. Recent events have shown that typed communication can be slow, missed, misinterpreted and downright abused. Verbal interaction is something we actually need, particularly in larger groupings. I must entrust resolving this task to those more skilled than me, but I will make yet another plea for this to be actioned over the next few days.
Who knows, maybe Jess will unpadlock Tomx’s balls and we may see him suitably bearded soon. Let’s just hope we don’t have the troubling visage of Anar attempting a ginger facial growth although it may stop him looking so much like Justin Bieber.
Have a Week
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Do You Get Your Kicks From Computer Radio?
Well I promised I would provide it and here we finally have it. Your esteemed cultural ambassador Preet’s definitive guide to which podcasts you simply must be listening to with your ear.
I must firstly pause to gasp aloud having discovered during the preparation for this blog (yes I do prepare sometimes, get over it) that my iTunes list shows me in no uncertain unequivocal terms that I am currently subscribed to no less than 50 podcasts. Unbelievable and made more profound when you consider there are many podcasts to which I have listened and unsubscribed over the past few years, some for less than a whole episode some for much longer, even entire series.
I should of course point out that of these “current” 50, many have not updated or released new episodes for in some cases a considerable time, but I maintain in hope that they indeed might return however sporadically in the future.
Wiki describes a podcast as a digital downloadable media file released episodically. I use iTunes but other application software is available if you have an aversion to Mr Jobs.
The term Podcast is a portmanteau of iPod and Broadcast first used in the Guardian in 2005 by Ben Hammersley to describe a media phenomenon that was beginning to take hold globally.
I could go on about Apples vice like grip on podcast distribution taking hold shortly afterwards, but go Wiki it yourselves if you are the least bit interested, which I doubt any of you are. Its reviews and suggestions you are here for after all, not a history lesson on corporate manipulation of media.
So, where to start?
Basically I’m going to lay out an alphabetical listing of my current podcast subscriptions with useful comments and tips wherever I feel them appropriate to your needs. I will of course jump about a bit particularly when it comes to podcast providers with multiple programmes.
As I fully appreciate that you won’t want to subscribe to all 50, at the end I will come up with a Preet Definitive Top Ten, that I will insist you subscribe to and regularly listen. Be prepared, there may be a test later.
Let’s see how it goes shall we?
First up is
• The Archers – an everyday story of country life. You either loathe it or love it and this is probably dependant on your age and social status. It gives me a 13 minutes a day oasis of calm in a world of noise. It also gives me a touch point with the Lesbian for infrequent banter on facebook. I’m not going to recommend it to anyone for download, but should you choose to try it out, don’t worry about not knowing who anyone is, just give it a week of listening and I guarantee it will be middle class crack to your pipe.
• The Arts Show on Radio Four – not listened to any of these yet but it’s a bit of culture and only 15 minutes so may be a good time filler when I haven’t got long to listen.
• Blow Hard – the first of many podcasts in this list from Kevin Smith’s Smodcast stable, this one features Malcolm Ingram a renowned Bear in the Los Angeles gay community who chats to various lesbians and gay porn stars on whatever has rattled his cage that week. It has one of the best theme songs you could wish for. From the vast Smodcast catalogue this one is up there. Much better than Malcolm’s previous incarnation of the Mo and Glo Podcast featuring him and his “tea partyesque” mother.
• The Bugle – wonderful weekly satire on world news featuring Andy Zaltsman and John Oliver. Produced by Times Online but don’t let that put you off. This must be on your list.
• Chortle Stand Up – short videos of various up and coming comedians including some bloody awful students in a recent Chortle University competition. Notwithstanding the occasional dross you will get to hear some gems.
• Collings and Herrin – Richard Herring and Andrew Collins have been doing this weekly stream of consciousness for a good few years now. I am simply addicted to this one. Herring has embraced this new media with relish mostly due to its lack of censorship which allows him free reign to explore stuff he couldn’t possibly go near in his stage shows. 5 star recommendation from Preet
• Collins and Herring on 6 music – the same two characters but this is an edited version of their erstwhile 6music weekend radio show. You can almost hear Richard Herring holding in his swearing. In my opinion, but not theirs, this is funnier than Adam and Joe who have returned to replace them, and being the nerd that I admit to be, I emailed and complained to the BBC. I know, I know.
• AIOTM with Richard Herring – a recording of Richard live stage show As It Occurs To Me produced and performed by Richard, Emma Kennedy and friends which has frequent runs at the Leicester Square Theatre throughout the year when he isn’t touring and washing his hands in service stations. Always written under stressful last minute circumstances and this shows through frequently, but well worth discovering with lots of in jokes and themes which should hook you in.
• Comedy of The Week from Radio Four- a recent addition which gives you opportunity to hear a variety of the 6.30 comedy slot shows from the BBC. Some you will love others you will loathe. Personally I can’t understand why the BBC can’t just release their entire catalogue on podcasts. They do it weekly for Friday night’s shows so why not all of them especially Just a Minute!
• Danny Baker Show – the Radio 5 show now sadly on hold due to Danny’s serious illness. I remain in hope that this will return to our airwaves, meanwhile, as with many in this list that are currently not updating, you my loyal reader can reach into the back catalogue should you choose to do so.
• David Mitchells Soapbox – not currently updating and given the format is being used by Mitchell on TV in 10 o’clock Live, I doubt we will see any more here.
• Desert Island Discs – sift through the self-important dress designers and “artists” and you will find unmissable episodes such as the recent Terry Gilliam.
• Fighting Talk – a bit laddish but hey, that’s me when I choose to be. Radio 5’s football seasonal show hosted by Colin Murray with four z-list sportish or comedic guests who answer pointless questions on sporting topics. I always delete any episodes with Tom Watts whose gobby cockney antics are completely unbearable to my sensitive ear. I enjoy the banter in this show, you might, take your choice.
• Folk Song a Day – a year long project by Jon Boden which speaks for itself. He can be a bit finger in your ear folk so a very acquired taste. Ignore this one.
• Frank Skinner Radio Show – Absolute Radio’s Saturday morning show. BBC must be kicking themselves they didn’t snap Frank up as replacement for Ross when he left Radio 2. Quite simply a master of quick fire comedy at work, with lots of references to Frank’s favourite band The Fall. Augmented by his not the weekend podcast which is half an hour of irreverent banter as a bonus each Wednesday if you subscribe to the main show. Good solid recommendation for this one.
• Freakonomics – if you’ve read either of Steve Levitt’s Freakonomic books you will know what to expect. An American bias on subject matter but fascinating insight on the world of economics and statistics. Debunks lots of “common sense” theories. Worth you dipping into to see if it fits your taste or intellect.
• Friday Night Comedy – I eluded to this earlier. You either get the News Quiz with Sandi Toksvig, or the Now Show with Punt and Dennis depending on which series is being broadcast. Both are worth a weekly listen and its one podcast I listen to almost straight away. Topical and very funny whichever show.
• Highlands a Peephole History – another from the Smodcast network about Kevin Smith and friends hometown in New Jersey. Only for Smiths faithful this one.
• Hollywood Babble-On – Kevin Smith and Ralph Garman (Family Guy’s Harry Shearer) show flagrant disrespect to Hollywood and the world of celebrity. In my top 5 of Smodcast Network downloads.
• Infinite Monkey Cage – the radio four science series with Robin Ince and Brian Cox plus guests. Any sensible person of even vague intelligence should be listening to this.
• iTunes; Meet the Author – sporadic series of Q & A sessions with whoever may be trying to flog a book broadcast from the Apple Store in London. Shockingly, the audio quality particularly from audience questions is appalling given who is producing this. A shortage of decent microphones in the Apple store? Occasionally someone worth listening to, may be worth subscribing just in case.
Phew, a plentiful blogs worth and only at 21. So I’ve decided this will be a 2 parter. If all goes well the next blog will follow quite soon but life has a habit of getting in my way particularly during this holiday period. I have children and grandchildren tripping me up whenever I try to move around the cave at the moment. With number 4 still imminently about to drop and scream who knows what the week will bring.
One very last comment I must make. HBO’s Game of Thrones started Monday night. It is quite simply divine. Beg borrow or steal your way to watching this epic well made fantasy. I will refuse you access to this blog if you don’t make the effort. A Preet diktat for you.
Don’t frighten the Easter Bunny.
Have a Week
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We Missed You Hissed The Love Cats
As my broadband connection has apparently decided to have its own protest against excessive and ideologically repugnant government cutbacks, I might as well get on with blogging to you all my true and loyal readers.
I am recently returned from a most pleasurable gaming weekend with the Pompey reprobates of old and recent pasts. Showing less commitment in regard to time than the Dorsetshire posse the weekender began Friday evening at the home of the one now known as Flopsy. The Lady Dominatrix of that domicile had departed with children in tow for a well deserved holiday away from the Flopsy one, thus leaving vacant possession which allowed those of us with an adventurous disposition to encamp for the weekend. At its numerical peak we held 7 of us warriors in thrall and much merriment abounded over games of Magic, Cthulhu, various other board games, card games etc. all with the sometimes distracting accompaniment of some porn on the TV safely doused by the mute button.
Excessive drinking of such as, the holy absinthe, set new levels of roleplaying amongst this experienced crew and a jolly good time was had by all who came and went. Despite my best efforts at cajoling and encouragement I would assess the likelihood of any of this troop ever joining us in DDO is remote, however some encouraging words were spake by some which suggested favour in regard to SWTOR whenever it finally rises above its deeply hidden parapet.
Without our regular kitchen bitch Frenchy in residence food was of a typically male variety and with the exception of Flopsy’s veggie chilli we were reliant on pastry products in various state of heated-up-ness. We survived to tell the tale and 2 days later my bowels have not shown signs of unwanted bacteria and I am happy to report healthy stools are in full firm evidence at Preet Manor.
One spooky occurrence in regard to my sojourn to the south occurred at a service station on the M4 when upon emptying my bladder I happened upon a character well known to my entire regular readership. “Is that a woman in the bogs” I thought as I shook and shuttered up. On washing my hands as a good caringly healthy Preet always should, I realised that it was no woman but our verily beloved comedian of note, the Christ on a bike himself Mr Richard Herring. What dilemma I was now in for sure. How does one approach another man in the toilets of a service station without appearing all George Michael? I’m not sure how even with an introduction such as “Hi Rich, I’m the Dungeons and Dragons guy who gave you the award as Best Thing To Hear With Your Ear Last Year” would make him feel any less threatened in a public convenience, now not just by a perv, but by a geeky perv.
I suppose for those a little bit famous like our Mr Herring it is something they come to terms with as well as the hovering “is he or isn’t he…” onlooker.
I noted on driving away that Richards hire car had blacked out windows but he was at pains to tell me that this was the car they were given and not one they asked for or chose so he wasn’t deliberately hiding from gaming geeks or persistent members of the Nerd Army at all. His blog suggests he was travelling from a gig near Cheddar to one in Cambridge. The life of a Troubadour must surely be far less exotic than most and we can only appreciate the efforts of their ilk in continually providing us with mirth and entertainment in such circumstances.
Meanwhile in game itself, we all crawl inexorably back to level 20 with the exception of our glorious leader Sweepie who as always was first to rise and has hit top level for some few weeks now. Rumours that he is refusing to reincarnate Sweepie ever again are abundantly clear as he has turned to his Cleric alt Ceollor whenever the rest of us have turned our backs. The Asswipe Formally Known As Leader / Tafkal or Kit as he would have the unknowing world call him, has taken a timely sabbatical over the pond in the land of the free. Well, I say “free” but rest assured Kit and wallet will be stretched mercilessly across the counters of Universal Studios and Hogwarts itself as his delightful daughters develop and hone their feminine wiles on a man and his money. I would have referred to the little dears by name but Kit only really likes one of them so we only ever get to know hers.
You will be relieved to know that a very nice man named Rajid has got my broadband back on and I will indeed get to post this missive online today.
I was reminded in chatting this weekend with pompeyans that I really must get on with giving you a full and reviewed Podcast blog. I will make it my weekend task to rectify the delay in giving you what you need for your listening pleasures, I wouldn’t want you wasting your life by downloading and listening to nonsense that doesn’t have your cultural counsellors seal of approval, who knows what ideas may permeate your ipod (other mp3 players are available).
As a proper socially aware dwarf you will not be surprised to know that I am a frequent user of Freecycle.com as a way of distributing alms to the less fortunate I find it invaluable. My lack of interest in flogging stuff of varying but not insubstantial value leads me to give stuff away via local freecycle forums. Whenever the ever patient Mrs Preet decides that clutter can no longer be seen as “saving things just in case” for a moment longer, I will post up whatever Aircraft Carrier or unneeded print cartridge I need to dispose of. Everything goes to happy new homes and ecological armageddon is staved off for another few hours.
Just this week as part of the re-establishing of our now vacated domicile I rashly posted up three items for offer. Within minutes I was being bombarded with emails begging to take each of them off my hands. So what’s the problem then Preet? I hear you ask.
Well, the problem is, people’s literacy! I am saddened and stunned by the extremely poor grammar and spelling and seeming inability in some cases of being able to string together a coherent sentence. I have therefore instigated a strict grammar rule when giving my hard earned unused unwanted tat away in future. Instead of readily giving on a first come first gets basis, I will wait a full twenty four hours before assessing the comprehension skills of the wanton beggars. Then I will be able to sleep soundly, knowing that my goods are being appreciated by a literate household. Perhaps insistence that they tell me which morning newspaper they read when they reply to my message board post may also form part of the contract.
I was reminded of a recent tweet by the often amusing Gary Delaney (Sarah Millicans current life partner) he suggested that; a million monkeys already have access to a million typewriters, that’s what is wrong with the internet.
Podcast reviews are coming loyal reader. Have I ever let you down?
Have a Week
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