Tag Archive: British



First things first, a mate of mine said while my last attempt at blogging sounded like me, it lacked a certain something; my personality. What he really meant was I was clearly trying to hard not to offend folks and it didn’t sound right. So, having taken that on board, I’m going to have another crack at blogging and while I’ll try to keep it up for longer than eight weeks this time, I ‘ain’t promising nowt. Don’t think, however, I’m about to start hurling abuse in every direction indiscriminately. No, no I’m not, but what I will do is to rip the piss out of idiots that either are begging for it, or are so far up their own arses that they deserve it.



What does the above hash tag mean, I hear you ask. Well, it means be true to yourself. My inner wanker loves to laugh, is sometimes cruel, often intellectual and enjoys nothing more than picking and poking fun at himself and others. Saying that I’m not a total wanker, mind you.


Topic for today – friendship.


I’m a good friend, I think. Well, I’m a good person so surely that translates into being a good mate? Fucking ought to. Oh yeah, I’ll be swearing a whole lot more this time around. So if you’re easily offended, piss off and play with your dolls somewhere else.


This feels good, you wankers!


Topic Matthew! Right, where was I? Ah yes, I’m a good friend and in the interests of impartiality I’ll beg/bribe some of me mates to pipe up and give you their opinions.


I recently worked with a bloke whom I became good friends with – although the prick has just left the store and is now dead to me…I’m joking, ffs. Much to my surprise and delight, he’s almost as scathing a cunt as me – which is an achievement that ought to get the both of us arrested. The point to today’s blog is when is does friendship too much like hard work.


Punch me in the tits and call me a pleb but shouldn’t friendships be a two way street where both parties interact on a level footing and give as much as they take? You should be nodding about now because if I’ve learnt nothing from life it’s that you look after your friends and loved ones. If you can’t do that then you are a contemptuous sack of pony shite. My brother, my wife and a few others will always be my friends. The bond is unshakable and needs no tending. 50/50 all the way in every part of the friendship/relationship. If it’s anything less, the wheels will fall off…unless of course you’re a more forgiving and kinder person than me. Did I mention I’m a wanker? Think I did. We all have good friends that can be trusted, right?


We all have a flaky, narcissistic friends with an outrageous sense of entitlement as well. It’s harder to drop them like a hot stone when they have admirable qualities or are part of a group of mates. Drives me mad when they can’t shake the need for petty little games. When is enough too much. How far do you bend over to except them for what they are before they end up riding you like a pit pony? (two pony references – check) That my friends is up to the individual. If they make you miserable, sponge off of you, lie or steal, then I’d suggest moving on.


Righto, off to read through what I just wrote and hope I’ve not just told you lot to kill all those you don’t like, or owt.






Fishing – the art of sitting still…

fishing float

If you know me you’d be forgiven for thinking fishing isn’t exactly a past-time that would suit me…but oddly it does. I suppose as a kid it appeared on my radar due to the fact my father and a few other men in the little village we lived fished. So having received a starter rod and reel for Christmas and after much pestering from my brother and I, my father eventually agreed to take us. Okay…my first taste of fishing completely underwhelmed me – what a let down. To my mind the sneaky little buggers were far to hard to catch and I’d imagined it to be far easier and far more entertaining.

To be honest I was only ever entertained as a kid when day dreaming about flesh eating plants, or dungeons full of goblins and dragons. So fishing never really stood much of a chance. This was compounded by the fact when someone, in this case my father, does 90% of the task in hand you fail to appreciate or enjoy its finer points. Really that translates to most things. Simply put, if you do it yourself you enjoy what you’re done all the more.

I’m not entirely sure how long it was after the half dozen failed trips with my father before I dabbled in fishing again, but I’d guess it was a couple of years. However, this time I followed my brother. I suppose the failed trips were as much my fault for being the child equivalent of an unhinged springer spaniel, tongue lolling out the side of my mouth as I sped from one thing to the next, as it was my fathers. He wasn’t a good teacher and ADHD wasn’t even considered back then. Despite that I grew to enjoy fishing and having to do it for myself made my efforts all the more valuable. I suppose in some way it reinforced the idea that there is no point doing something unless you put effort into it. Actually, I say enjoy fishing but as a kid I loved it. The peacefulness and tranquillity really struck a chord with me and for once I could sit still and watch the morning unfold. To behold an early rising carp as it silently ascended out of the gloomy amber water like a wide eyed ghost, coupled with the mist as it crept across the surface was memorising.

I decided to take Luke fishing to see how he cope…how we’d cope. Catherine and myself are worried Luke is on the ADD/ADHD spectrum and while that isn’t an unsurmountable problem, we don’t want it to get in the way of his schooling. The other day wasn’t the first time Luke has been fishing but the last time was about a year and a half ago so I assumed most of what he’d picked up would have been pushed out by Minecraft or something or other. He did remember little bits and started brightly. However, after snagging the trees several times and almost getting thrown in to the pond Luke had a time out. After the time out had given him the chance to concentrate on the job at hand he was awesome. His casting improved massively and before long he looked every inch a pro. Out of all the six fish he caught he did everything himself: he baited up his hooks, untangled his snags and removed the hook from each of his fish.

Even when I hooked a 6 or 7lb carp Luke didn’t hesitate wanting to lend a hand. Under instruction Luke plunged the landing the into the water and tried scooping up the exhausted fish. For a moment things looked good and I imagined Luke smiling from ear to ear as he lifted the fish from the net. But no, that didn’t happen. To make matters worse on the cramped little fishing stint a small dog appeared at our feet seemingly interested in the commotion. In his urgency Luke swooped, bludgeoned the carp, tangle the tackle and snapped the line… Glory was gone in one final flick of its broad tail. Did I care? Not one bit. We were having fun and that’s all that matters.

Luke won the fish off 6 gudgeon to 3 gudgeon and 2 roach. We’ll not mention the carp.

What-proof-rich-tea Biscuits, WTF!!


Right, I feel the need to warn you as this part of the post might wander a little…

About a year or so ago I was unlucky enough to pick up salmonella while out with friends. As if the subsequent 8 hours of projectile vomiting, five days of feeling awful and time spent on the toilet wasn’t enough, I managed to knock out a crown when I accidently head-butted the tap. Not my best moment. The after effects of this bout of food poisoning came in the guise of a new intolerance to gluten. Mother fu…. I love bread and pasta…not to mention dunking biscuits!

My sister in law told me Lorcan, my brother in law, had picked up a stomach bug that left him with similar symptoms to mine, but after a visit to the doctors and a subsequent antibiotic course, he made a full recovery. So, off to the doctors, yeah? No, I’m not one for visiting the doctors often – even when I should. Instead my wife, who is a nurse, came home from work where a colleague of hers is currently doing an assignment on food allergies and mentioned a supplement designed to help the gut recover from infections and other such nasty stuff. So I’ve been taking one of those tablets every day. It turns out while my intolerance has lessened; I’m still not able to eat white bread. I am, however, able to eat biscuits it seems!!

While testing out to see if I could manage a biscuit (or twelve) I reached for the packet of rich tea in the cupboard gathering dust. Who’d have thought The Belmont Biscuit company not only make their product using ‘No artificial colours, flavourings or preservatives’ but that also make the buggers from water proof flour!! I mean come on. You just can’t dunk one of those. Dunking is all in the wrist. You submerge a tester for a few seconds and when you see tea being draw up from the cup, you know it’s done. Theses biscuits refuse to act accordingly. As a result you’re left with either a cup of sludge or a still crunchy morsel! Unacceptable!




For me it’d be a tent miles away from anyone else. Okay, I know for sure I’d get annoyed without any internet and stuff and would have to relent occasionally but at least I’d have some peace and quite. You see I am by nature a keep myself to myself type person. Let me loose with some string and a knife and before you know it I’ll be living in a ditch, most likely starving to death but happy no one is around to pester me.


Catherine, my much suffering wife, is about as opposite a person as you could find to myself. She comes from busy Dublin, I come from a sleepy village in the south of England. She loves constant company, I love to be left well alone. She has a large extended family, I’m grateful I don’t. As much as I appreciate her family, really I do, I’m glad its not too often.


I know she’d like to move home but that can’t happen anytime soon. Why not? Well it’s unrealistic with the kids so settled at school and with a husband who really doesn’t want to move to a country where the weather is worse than home. Don’t get me wrong, Ireland is a lovely place but everywhere is as good as you make it, no? Anyway, we have a pretty good life here in England so why trade that in in the pursuit  of nostalgia? Okay, there is more to it than that, but you get what I mean.


Honestly, it’s not like I’m against moving away from England. About 10 or 12 years ago, before the kids had arrived, we were going to move to the states. I say were because it all fell through thanks to the British board of nursing not being able to tell the difference between their arse from their elbow.


The question is more current due to the fact that my nephew is about to move to Canada with the intention of finding somewhere there to settle down.


Where would you like to live?









It might be gone from the newsagents shelves but it’ll never be forgotten! Okay, so on a slightly sensible note – one which will not last long – I hope it becoming an online subscription doesn’t mean it’s about to die altogether? That’d be awful!!


2000AD will always have a massive place in my sci-fried heart and mind. Why? Well, for right of wrong my late Nan would every Saturday buy a copy for my brother and me. The picture bellow is the earliest cover I could recognize; but to be honest Nan had a box full of older ones she’d brought home with her from her day job at a local private school.



Hum, although I honestly recognize the cover, I’d imagine it was one plucked from the box full of oldies. After all judging by the date I’d yet have turned five and their is no way I’d have been able to make sense of it mighty messages!


My top three stories/characters.


Slaine Macroth – The Horned God.


This title had an immeasurable effect on my tiny mind. Never after reading anything else have I wanted more than to paint myself in blood, spike my hair, sharpen my axe and get my ‘warp spasm’ on! Although my favorite artist to work on Slaine was without doubt the peerless Simon Bisley – it was he that convinced me with his amazing art work to spend hour after hour drawing – it didn’t matter who was penning or inking my favorite Celtic barbarian as he is my number one 2000AD character.


Joesph Dread, a.k.a, Judge Dread. 


It was a really close run thing between Slaine and Dread as to which was my number one. The only reason Slaine won was down to me connecting more so with the character and, although you had to wait ages between stories, it seemed Slaine had the edge with regards to the more compelling story lines. Well, I say that but Dread was somewhat shackled with being the comics only constant story line. It’s because of this that Judge Dread sometimes got lumbered with the occasional ropy plot. However, I spent untold hours as Dread in my own head – more so than any other character, period. I’d love nothing more than to be able to spout quotes, etc but my memory is awful and I’d only get it wrong.

On to the Dread films…STOP! As far as I’m concerned their was only one film. (I was forced to take a swig of me clap cold coffee in an effort to regain composure!)

Right, lets start again. While the 2012 Dread film – ah damn it, I’ll have to make mention of the date and the fact it isn’t the only Dread film or some misguided souls might get confused – wasn’t a commercial success like the first, I absolutely frigging loved it!! The film was accurate to Dread’s legacy and felt like 2000AD deliberately gave the finger to the notion of making a few quid off their longest running title. It was dirty, gritty and unforgiving; just like how it was meant to be – and he kept his chuffing helmet on. The only gripe I had was that Dread’s reputation as being the toughest, most unforgiving son of a bitch ever created wasn’t that evident. For that reason I am eternally grateful. Never forget, Dread is a mega city one god legend.


Jesus, the last one is REALLY tough to call…Rogue Trooper, Zenith, ABC Warriors, Bad Company, Strontium Dog, Nemesis The Warlock…wow, I feel an aneurysm developing.


Marlon Shakespeare, a.k.a Chopper.


By Crom, who in the seven Hells is that, I hear you cry! Well, Chopper was surfer who lived in Dread’s Mega City One dystopia. While their are no waves to ride in MC1, their’s plenty of traffic to play chicken with while riding your hover board along its mega highways. Oh and their is always Supersurf… The Supersurf is an illegal competition that pits the best surfers from around the world against each other in a brutal and often deadly game to see who’s got the best skills. Chopper’s a product of mass unemployment and the mind numbing tedium MC1’s citizens face daily. But he want’s more, he want’s to be someone and escape the drugery of MC1 life, even if only for a moment. I read up until Song Of The Surfer and loved every turn and twist. This is a true 2000AD master piece and would stand up well against even the most high brow graphic novels.


Well, for me that was a pleasant stroll through my nicer childhood memories. Who knows with a bit of luck the couple of plot ideas myself and Dave Lee Stone are working on might get printed in 2000AD soon!