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24th June 2007

I have just got back from a fab weekend on the west coast, near to Piha. The place is called Karikare...I think I have the spelling correct and could be certain if I had the intelligence to do a quick Google check on it.

Staying in a bach (Pronounced batch) for not much money, I got to see the New Zealand bush at closer quarters. And what a fine bush it is. I really like going to bach's and think it is a fab idea. It is basically a holiday home but they are just so cool! I went with Penny again before she zooms off round the World on a festival tour for 4 months in Canada, US and Mexico. Ahhh the life of an international comedy and poetry superstar eh?

So...I can heartily recommend Piha and Karikare. But the main issue with this post is........what do people do to pass the time when travelling and staying in random places? I know that I have been listening to the Ricky Gervais podcasts and my music on my travels, but I was thinking about what I do when others are with me. For instance.....I have played the name game...(AKA Superstar) with my sister, Scott and many others.

I have decided to give you all some of my favourite ideas about what you can play in a variety of situations with a variety of attendees.

1) Name game/Superstar.

Think of a celebrity. Use the first letter of their surname to start the first name of the next. No repetition. Honesty prevails in two player games and at least 2 people must have heard of the celeb in larger games.
e.g. Russell Crowe.......Colin Farrell......Felicity Kendall etc etc. If the name has the same letters...e.g. William Wallace the direction of the game reverses in larger games and kudos added in 2 player games, as it does with comedy names.....e.g.Rod Hull.....Kenny Lynch etc.

2)What did I have for my dinner?
Professional nod to Kev Caulfield for this one. Belch into your hand and place your cupped hand over the nose of the other players. The player nearest to the actual identification of your lunch wins a point.

3)What am I scratching?
Players take turns to delicately scratch a part of their body while the other contestants try to guess the scratch location. Best played in a darkened room.

4)Where is my toe?
Similar to Where am I scratching but involves inserting a toe into a body part of the other player. Best played head to head only, in a darkened room. Best practice suggests that this is not played with strangers or on public transport.

5) What animal am I kicking?
Each player imitates the sound that a specific animal would make if you were to kick it. The person nearest to the genus of the correct animal wins for one point and performs the next imitation.

Please feel free to add more suggestions to the list and I may..just may publish this as a book.


Dan

Thursday 14th June 2007.

Not a great deal to report execpt that winter has begun to set in. This, to a man with my capacity to sweat is a welcome relief. Don't get me wrong, I am not a smelly and grimy individual, but my very healthy metabolism means that I do break into dampness with the remotest amount of exercise. This is not helped by my insistance in walking everywhere or by my refusal to buy a car. I would like to claim that I am going green and reducing both my carbon emissions and carbon footprint, but in actual fact it is simply that I would find parking tricky on my little street. That and the fact that I might have to fill in some forms if I buy a car.

My flatmate was telling me about her boss having some confusion about some TV advertising. She then went on to tell me about one of her other "blonde" moments. I shall tell the story here, but I won't name and shame her. She received a note requesting that she phone someone at Auckland Zoo about some advertising. She called and said

"Hello, it's Emma and I have a note to call to speak to a Mr. Ken Garue. Is he there?"

The woman on the other end of the phone actually shouted out.....

"Do we have a Ken Garue here?"

my flatmate, who I sharn't name, couldn't understand why everyone was laughing until someone took her to one side with, "Emma....let me explain...."


Ken Garue! I asked her if she meant to a ask for Ally Gayter but she was tired of me laughing by then.


Tonight I have stayed in and ended up watching a programme about dolls. Not Sindy Dolls, not Barbie Dolls, nor action men. Real Dolls. A sort of business class blow up doll. It is a sex tool for the lonely and they DO look relatively realistic. I don't think I need to explain what acts people would pay £4000 for a doll to perform, or what kind of person buys them. I am sure you can all work that out for yourselves. The really freaky part about the programme was that the owners treated the dolls as though they were real. Really real. Make up, clothes, chit chat, even cooking meals for them. The only thing that was unrealistic was that they didn't nag.

It was at this point that a mate of mine, Kev, sat watching with us baulked when the narrator moved onto the servicing of the dolls and the fact they were available with REAL pubic hair. "What if it was a man's pubes?!?!"

I explained to Kev that, in my opinion, if you had reached the stage where you were indulging in a physical relationship with a lump of rubber that you have parted with £4000 with....... I don't think that the origin of the hair would be the straw that broke the decency camels back!

"I admit that I can't form a real relationship with women and have paid £4000 to have a latex substitute satify my sexual needs, and yes, I do treat this inanimate object as though it were in fact human........BUT FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.....IT HAS THE BUSH OF A MAN! i AM NOT A PERVERT!!!!!"

The programme even went on to show the "doll Doctor" that does the servicing. In the initial appraisal of the dolls condition, he obviously has to pop his hands and fingers into all the nooks and crannies. Now, perhaps I thought about this too much..... but as the "dolly doctor" you WOULD know what the last thing was in those crevices. Call me squeamish but I felt a little nauseous when confronted with this thought. It was all I could do not to think about Peter Duncan in Flash Gordon when he pops his arm into that tree stump thingy, unsure if his hand would come back intact.

I think I should leave it there for now. I will try to pick more wholesome topics for future blogs. I am off now. To my room. Strawberry Shortcake is waiting for me. Strawberry Shortcake with Dave's midtown afro.


Bye!!! Sleep well. We will!


Dan

9th June 2007.


Mum......don't read this.





Also...this has reference to the very american thing called a spelling bee.....in England we would dispense with the "bee" and stick to test but I need bee to make it work....I haven't simply sold out...



If you still can face it read........it could be one of the shortest posts in history and the premise has been robbed from someone else that I think I have quoted erlier in my blog.



I entered a spelling bee today.........got honey all over my nob.

Some smart arse asked me what the bee was spelling.......


That's easy......






O.....U.......C.....H.....ouch.



Only works if you know what a spelling bee is.


Sorry.

1st June 2007

Hello.


Now back in the land of the long white cloud and feeling the winter creeping in. So, what happened in the last couple of weeks in Northern Ireland and the rest of the UK? Just the usual nonsense of odd things and strange stuff.

Firstly, a quick catch up on the fire brigade nonsense. I finally got the report from the doctor that agreed with everything that my surgeon and GP had been saying. The powers that be in the fire service are still dragging heels and messing about so I still don't know what is going to happen. After pointing out that they HAVE to pay the cost of my attendance at the medical they refused and "invented" an appointment in September that I apparantly missed. That didn't happen and I knew nothing about it until the date had passed. They are now saying that because I "missed" that appointment, they are not going to pay. It is totally irrelevant about missed appointments as the rules in the contracts state very clearly that they have to pay for any costs incurred by requesting a person to attend. This comes as no suprise to me that they twist and turn like this but I did offer many alternatives. As for the job...well they are keeping very quiet at the moment so I am still technically employed by them! They had my itinerary regarding flights and knew when I was due to return to New Zealand and then requested that I attend a meeting in June! Oh well! More fun and games! Can't they just do things sensibly, just once?

After leaving England I went to see my family for a few weeks in Northern Ireland. Mum and Dad have moved into their new house and it is fantastic! Really nice with top notch people on both sides of them. Laura and Brian on one side with the dogs, including puppies, and Cathy and Susan on the other. All really fab and very friendly. This means that when I do come back I will have a drinking buddy or two! Brilliant! Being drinkers, funny and nice to look at makes life in the country a whole lot easier on a fellah like me!

I received a call from my brother asking me if I wanted an acting gig when I got back to Ireland. Intriguing or what? It turned out that because he flies around a lot with one particular airline, he was given tickets to see the Harlem Globetrotters at the Odessey in Belfast. The only catch was that his wife Cheryl really wanted to go and he was away in England. So, being the great guy that I am, I stood in for him and had to pretend to be a father of 4 manager of an international finance company! Married too, obviously! So for one night I had to act like the man who is as far away from me as possible! I carried it off even when "chatting" to the people from the airline who were clearly suspicious as they had never seen me before! Cheryl, after nagging me for ages about making sure I didn't slip up, then proceeded to jeopardise the whole thing by repeatedly calling me Dan instead of Jason but we carried it off in the end. Even when Cheryl got so drunk that she was knocking peoples drinks over with the basketball we had bought for "our" kids! Who would have thought that my trip home would see me watching the Harlem Globetrotters?

Mind you, who would have thought that I would be drinking at an Erasure theme charity party in the middle of Lurgan too? But that was my next night of note! I was told to wear a white T-shirt and blue jeans, but my travelling wardrobe only went as far as a white shirt. Not good enough! Luckily the bar owner at JP's had a few spare that they had bought in, just in case! After dashing across to the Cellar Bar to give a T-shirt to Cathy and Susan (next door) I enterred the bar and was amazed by what I saw. Every single person in the room was dressed identically. All white T-shirt and jeans. Doesn't sound that scarey but when you are faced with it, it is really weird! It was liek some kind of religious gathering, only with the knowledge that everyone in the room are emulating a very gay band from the late eighties/early nineties! Very freaky but great fun! Too many beers for all concerned, including Cathy and Susan who had work the next day teaching the nations youth! A taxi home, a few more beers and I returned home with a stolen pint glass. Altogether a successful night!

While at home we went to Josh's (nephew)first holy communion. Now I am not one given to the religious way of life so I amused myself by constantly pushing Ben(second nephew) off his chair and watching him get into trouble for fidgetting. The highlight for me, apart from Josh, was listening to the children reading passages and including the word response at the end of their sentences. To explain, the passages had sections where the congregation were to respond together and the word "response" was a signal for them to speak, not to be read out. I know it makes me very childish but I giggled like a kid wanting detention every time they did it!

The day before I left to come back down under, Mum, Cheryl and the kids organised a little party for me with balloons and cakes and my favourite meal! It was really great but made me reticent about coming away again. I know that I will have loads of fun here, but it was very hard to leave it all behind.My family are ace, their house is great and everything about being home makes it difficult to zoom off. Awwwww!

Since I have been back I have been settling back into Kiwi life slowly. I still have all of the uncertainty about the future and my Visa will be running out soon so my holiday might be in its last throes. But I will see what happens and get my finger out to sort out my little life after the fire service. Where that will be, who knows. It could be the jet lag that is making me less excited than I should be and a little more nervous about it all, but I am sure that will pass. What is great is that my friends over here have been brill since I got back. Emma and Amber seemed very happy to see me back and I fully intend to get them out over the bank holiday weekend for some well deserved beers!

The bad news is that my lovely friend, Penny Ashton, is going to Canada, America and Mexico for 4 months to do the comedy and performance thing. She is great fun and gets me out and about to things that I wouldn't know about, so how will I cope? When I got back she had a ticket to the Billy T's(comedy awards) for me and it was a great night. Lots of drinks with New Zealands finest! What a way to hit NZ again!It looks like unless I sort out my visa before October, I will be booted out of the country before she gets back! So I face 4 months without her smiling face and get up and go! Needless to say, I am going to miss her.

Oh well.....cheerier next time, I promise. Well that's if the winter of New Zealand doesn't freeze my ass off in the meantime!


Dan

Monday 14th May 2007.

Hello!


You might remember me from such blogs as " Danno does Tutukaka" and the epic, "Whoops! No teeth left!". I occassionally have to apologise for not updating my little blog but it is because nothing too strikingly important has happened to me that you might want to read about. It could be that I couldn't get to a decent log on place to write about my mooching. I could be that I am lazy. In this instance, it is a mixture of all three.

Having been in Clowne and going to UFC to see Mirko Cro cop get his face closely acquainted with Gabriel Gonzaga's right foot (check spelling..in fact check that his first name is Gabriel too. While I am at it, check that I have dressed. That's ok...wearing shorts....close thing there), I continued to mooch (in its other usage other than that of travelling, the freeloading squatting type)around other people's houses and help myself to meals and other hospitality. While I was inundated with excellent and generous offers of accomodation, you can't help but feel that you are putting people out and inpinging on their kindness. If you do not see that by staying with other people for a number of days, you might be "putting them out" a little, then please do not visit me. I can't stand moochers. Hypocritical? Yes but there we are! I have the utmost gratitude to those who did allow me to stay in their houses. Quick name check for the main benevolent people runs as follows:-

John and Sarah. Please tell your son that my name is Dan, Daniel, Danno, Big D, Danny boy, Danny and Mister S. It is not, nor ever has been or will be, Debbie.

Scott, Mr and Mrs Woodhall. Mrs Woodhall, regardless of what Scott might have said, I did not a)pick my nose, b)swear, c)tease next door's dog, d)complain about the spaghetti bolognese in any way. Scott is a liar. I know this is hard to hear but he is. And he is a grass. And Mr Woodhall, I can confirm that I did not see anything, Guvner, not a thing. I most definately did not see you throw a Glade plug in that shattered on Scott's elbow. I didn't see it. I will tell Esther Rantzen as much if required.

Fen and Mrs Fen. I didn't steal the blue Power Ranger or hurt Taylors head when he bit me, or call him stupid when we were sat in the lounge. Top bacon/sausage/egg butties too Fenners!

Thank you to all of the above and many others that made my little trip home that much more easy.

Including Marley and his dogs!

Now.....What has happened?

Well, I know I told you about the details with the doctor for whom I made this entire trip. Since that appointment I have heard nothing. Well unless you call a telephone call that said "we will telephone you later" counts. So, on the fire brigade front, I am no further on at all. They are still ignoring my emails and not giving me any information. I suspect that they are waiting until I go back to New Zealand and then will request me to attend a meeting in a few days. Remember that the fellah who is dealing with this is also the fellah I put a complaint in against a while ago. Seems like the obvious choice to deal with this issue, huh? He he he...I expect nothing less. So the fire service are expecting me to go away and then ask me to attend a meeting eh? Will I go....will I stay.....who knows! I know that I am not going to tell them if I have extended my flight dates back to New Zealand so that they can see how it feels to be left out of the loop.

So, apart from England, I have been in Northern Ireland with my parents and their new house. I won't bore you with details about the house as I am sure you don't care. However it is lovely and will be stunning when it is all finished. And one tip for you...if you have reason to hire a rotorvator....make sure you hire the biggest and most powerful one you can....especially if you have a pre-existing back problem. I could hardly walk after playing with it! And the sun burn was astonishing! Come to Northern Ireland and get sun burn! You wouldn't believe it!

After a week or so at home, I went back to England to get my poorly tooth fixed. Another flight....I am growing wings! Tooth all fixed I hung around drinking beers and having lots of fun! Cheers to those concerned! I did have a terrible headache on Monday though....even though I didn't drink too much!

Back to Ireland and to the news that on the 30th April 2007, I spent £1117.11 in Stop & Shop somewhere in USA. It turns out, after a little investigation, that it is in a suburb of New York. Well done me for being in two places at once! Stop & Shop is a supermarket by all reports and I am struggling to remember what my ethral self bought for that amount of money. I contacted my friends at the bank who are going to help me to remember. In other words.......It looks like some b@stard has cloned my bank card and bought £1117.11 worth of apples, bread and coffee! Had it just been coffee I might have pointed the finger at Scott, but I think that would be a bit harsh! The bank are looking into it, but I don't suppose it will end in the detainment of a hank McBisonstretcher cunning card thief. So I have been robbed of over a grand! I am suprisingly cool about it, but let this be a lesson to you all. Two lessons in fact. 1) Be VERY careful with your credit and debit cards. I was and always am and it happened to me. 2) Don't trust Americans. See? I knew my new found love of Americans wouldn't last ( see last posting ). I am sure they are mostly nice really. Well, mostly nicely fed after my grands worth of shopping the tw@ts bought with "my" card.

So, on that sour note, I am going to drink coffee and talk rubbish with my parents while also thinking about Evertons European football campaign next season!!!!!



I think that deserves another look at my favourite picture ever!....see above!



Dan



By the way....for the people in Auckland......go see Hot Pink Bits at the Classic....I have seen it and it is fab!

23rd April 2007 post 2

Having spent the night around different places, I zoomed to Clowne and Casa Del Woodhall and Saturday with the famous Scott from previous mooching. Although it was fab to see the old Warhorse again, it was a night out in Manchester that I was getting excited about. We arranged to go over the Pennines and watch UFC 70 at the Manchester Evening News Arena. Having arrived early to fit in 17 Starbucks Coffees (Scotts insistance) we filed into the vebue. Looking just like Mandalay Bay in Vegas, the Octogon loomed and the anticipation of the upcoming 10 fights grew. Head lining the bill was Mirko Cro Cop, an awesome striker and monster in the mixed martial arts World. Almost as eagerly anticipated was the second UFC fight of Michael Bisping. Only two of the fights were disappointing, but they weren't the talkig point in the car on the way back to Clowne.

I have had many opinions about the vocal nature of Americans on many different subjects. Although they do seem to have a lot to say, and say it far too loud, I now take my hat off and applaud Hank McBisonstretcher and his posse. Having been to UFC in Las Vegas, and Scott having been to UFC in Sacramento, I can now tell you that the English crowd who were gathered at the event were a total disgrace and made it embarrassing to be English. It could have been just the section that we found ourselves in, but it was a very stark contrast to excitable but friendly atmosphere we had felt in the USA of America. Firstly, we had paid for very good seats and were quite close to, not only the action, but also the tunnel where many of the fighters made their entrance. There were a couple of empty seats directly in front of us, but some loud, drunken and moronic lads from Belfast made use of them, even though it was clear that they hadn't paid for those seats and had decided to swan down from the cheap seats to try their luck. Having had the bare faced cheek to sit in seats they hadn't paid for, they then stood up the whole way through, whether watching the action live, on the big screens or just talking among themselves. They then started to shout obscenities and act like total idiots. As things were getting to a point where someone was going to have to shut them up, they moved, having seen even better seats that they hadn't paid for. All good? No!

Instead, 5 more scumbags, this time from Manchester and around 16 years old jumped in their seats and started shouting such stunningly insightful phrases as "Kick his f**king head in!" and "Yeah ...'it 'im ya cn*t" I can't tell you how proud it made us. The whole of the audience seemed to be there to see someone get seriously kicked and punched, whereas in America it was an event, a sporting event. The way it should be. Even adult men, skin headed and with all kinds of tattooes adorning their skulls, were sending a stream of swearing at no one in particular.

I therefore will never say anything about the American propensity to pass opinions about anything again. Ever. Well until another one of the over opinionated war mongers opens their mouths and lets the wind blow their tongues about. After all, they have nothing to say and they are saying it too loud, as always. That didn't last long!


One last thing before I go. While standing outside Scott's parents house, having a crafty cigarette, I kept hearing three high pitched bleeps periodically. After investigating the security light, burglar alarm etc, I was at a loss as to where the noise was coming from. I asked Scott who immediately grinned and pointed me in the direction of his Mum, officially known as Mrs Woodhall Snr. It transpires that after 5 years of loyal service, 2 carbon monoxide detectors had started sounding the end of their functional life with three periodic bleeps at set intervals. Obviously, this noise isn't ideal in the dead of night, so quite sensibly, Mrs Woodhall Snr placed them in the garden. Still able to hear the alarms, she decided that the best course of action was, not to remove the batteries, but to bury them in two plant pots outside the back door. So, if you want two second hand carbon monoxide detectors, slightly soiled in the very realest sense of the word, see Mrs Woodhall Snr, Clowne.

23rd April 2007


Well I have nearly been back a week and I am getting itchy feet!


Firstly though, let me say thanks to all of the people that heave either put me up for a couple of nights, or have offered. I am not very good when it comes to accepting offers of kindness but I want you all to know that it is very, very much appreciated. Add to that the difficulty in getting my snapped off tooth fixed and it looks like I might be hanging around for a while.

The reason for my coming back to the UK was for histories most ridiculous doctors appointment at 3:50 on Friday. By 4:40 I was beginning to think that the waiting room was very well named indeed. Getting beyond fed up, I was thinking about heading for the door, when the doctor came back and lead me to an office. After discussing what the surgeon said in his report, this doctor stated that I did have a degenerative back problem. Well, no sh*t Sherlock! He also said that if I was "desperate" to continue operationally, then he wouldn't be able to rule it out on medical grounds. So pretty much as expected. On the one hand, he said that I was a greater risk of more frequent back difficulties, but on the other hand I might be able to manage a few more years. He effectively managed to not contradict the more highly qualified surgeon, yet at the same time tell me that if I was prepared to take the risk of more pain, then he could let me carry on. Very good of him eh? So we know what the fire service will do with that info..... ignore the risks and try to shovel me out through a loophole! Cheers! And to think that all I have to do is be "desperate" to be operational and then not moan when I get injured as it is my fault, thereby absolving the fire service of any responsibility. Best job in the World! To make matters more farcical, I was unable to get out of the building and get away from him as he had left the appointment so late that security had locked all of the doors and we were trapped in the building. Quite aptly I made my egress through the fire escape.

On to more pleasing things. I dropped in on the hospitality of John, Sarah, Harry and brand new Carter in Dronfield on my way up North. The jet lag soon kicked in and I soon until late morning. I did manage some sleep on the journey from Auckland, mostly in economy, but I was looking forward to some quality rest on the leg from Dubai to Gatwick, but I was sat next to a very nice, but very talkative woman! Neither of us could get the media jobby working properly and kept looking mystified at each other when the film turned to various different languages! And my Dad asks me for advice when he breaks his computer! I pity the fool!

Up to York and a couple of nights with Fen and Missus Fen. After busting Fen out for a couple of beers in the Marcia I was a little tipsy! Good old English beer! Can I also add that Fen still cooks a mean bacon buttie, after all, I trained him well. I even called Psycho and told him that I wished West Ham all of the best when facing the mighty Everton. I wished later that I hadn't as The Hammers romped through and might have dented our European aspirations, albeit for the saving grace of the other European hopefuls doing just as rubbish as The Toffees. Next post coming right up.

Dan

12th April 2007


In keeping with my promise to only post happy happy joy joy stuff.......



I have been searching for the internet for some things that have made me laugh in the years gone by. Mark Radcliffe and Mark "Lard" Riley were once the hosts of the BBC Radio 1 breakfast show and they had a feature called Lards Classic Cuts. Each day Lardy Boy would bring in a Vinyl record that he claimed was in mint condition...... have a listen and see what you think. Elvis, Puff the Magic Dragon and Glenn Campbell are absolute gems! Mind you, so is Mull of Kintyre!

Mark and Lards Classic Cuts


On a secondary note I though I would share Ambers wisdom with you. When I asked her how lucky, on a scale of 1-10 she though I was to be living with her and Emma she stated 8 out of 10. Emma was amazed that she didn't claim a full 10, but Amber explained in full. Ask Amber any question, no matter how stupid and you will get a very carefully thought out reply. "I would say 8 out of 10 because we don't work for companies where you get free stuff and we haven't introduced you to any friends that you can sleep with." Deadly serious too. How is that for honesty? Not that I would be doing the sleeping with thing as I am a good boy, as you all know.


Dan

11th April 2007.

First and foremost, let me apologise for the down beat tone to my last post. I have received, nay, been inundated with questions and concerns about the arising situation regarding the Fire Service. Rest assured that all future posts will endeavour to be joyous if at all possible. Well, except in circumstances where the black cloud descends and I find myself in a literature fuelled rage, departng on a rampage of alliteration and prose, along with a cavalcade of local government inadequacy and buffoonery. Doesn't the word buffoon make the world seem like a better place? And with the addition of the ary, it becomes positively pink and fluffy!

Just a quick update on the badness before I get on to my great weekend. I have received notification that I am now not allowed to enter into discussion with either the doctor OR the Human Resources department at the fire service! Some resource eh? Having waited for a long while for an answer to my questions, like why can't I see a doctor in New Zealand and how long will I have to be in the UK for,(I received no answers incidentally so might have to reassess my flights...again)I was told the the HR woman dealing with it couldn't respond sooner as she "had a lot of business to attend to and had a weeks holiday". You couldn't write this kind of thing! So....Anyone wanting to put me up for a few days...just let me know and expect me soon!

Oh and a late addition. Never go to see a New Zealand doctor. According to North Yorkshire Fire And Rescue Service, New Zealand doctors notes explaining that you are not very well are not acceptable as they are not in the European Union! Well bugger me! I never expected that they were in the EU! But as NZ is such a backward and under developed country, the notes issued by their doctors are not acceptable but a back street Quack in Bulgaria can issue you with a note that is perfectly fine! Wellthe wording was "not obliged to accept a doctors note from New Zealand as they are not in the EU". So that suggests a choice in whether they accept them. Hmmmm Conspiracy theorists....get back in your cages!

Anyway....Happy Easter!

Emma and Amber, my new flatmates, invited me to join them and their friends in Tutukaka for the long Easter weekend. I jumped at the chance and bought a fishing rod to boot! I travelled up with Emma and bored her to tears with the Ricky Gervais Podcasts en route. The passenger gets to operate the entertainment....shotgun rules!

We arrived and I met all the others before heading to the beach for some swimming and a spot of cricket. I am not known for my skills weilding the willow or the leather but I didn't come last, so you all owe me a vote of thanks for holding up the English end. So to speak of course. What I did gain from a light game of cricket was an aching back! Ironic eh?

A few beers and a meal in the local Tutukaka pub saw a hole in my wallet and a good nights sleep. The morning came too quickly and we headed to the harbour to zoom out for wakeboarding. For thise that don't know, wakeboarding is like water skiing but on one really fat ski. I rtied water skiing in Frodsham once with Ste from university but failed to stand up, instead electing to be be dragged along and under the River Weaver(must check spelling)which is reported to be the most polluted river in England. I don't know if that is true but as I ambled along the bottom of the river bed, powered by a 40hp engine, I believe I did consume the remnants of at least 27 other peoples evening meals from the night before. Not this time though! As the speed boat cruised along at near light speed, I hung on to the back with some distinction. I still couldn't stand up but at least I didn't get a mouth full of turds for my troubles. Everyone else could stand up and I have come to the conclusion that it is my freaksihly long legs that cause the greatest problem. I am certain that I can say with authority, that a heron couldn't wakeboard for the same reasons that I can't.

From wakeboarding to hitting the high seas to catch our dinner. After moving around a few spots we hit a hotspot for snappers! I caught a couple of keepers (slang term we sea anglers use to describe a fish big enough to keep and munch on) but the highlights of the day were the enormous kingfish that Emma and Anna caught. Amazingly, despite being around 65 centimetres long, they were not keepers! They have to be over 75cm! Damn you Neptune and your stunted children!

After a bbq of fresh fish, it was beer and bed time again. It really is the way to live. The campsite was picturesque and comfortable. I have to admit that Emma, I, Amber and Matt stayed in a "lodge" but even so, it was only one step above camping. And don't think I say camping with distain. It was brilliant.

The nxt day saw me have the golden touch at fishing. I caught nice big snappers, Kowhai(check spelling), moray eels, cod, a John Dory and a few others besides! All of this, not from the sped boat of yesterday, but on a small Yacht brought along by Duncan and Sarah. It wasn't the most comfortable of craft to fish off and my sea sickness didn't help, but Duncans Mum was there and made it all the more bearable with her baking! Life doesn't get much better! It was a shame to return home, with thoughts of then having to return home, if you get my drift........though I am not going to talk about that!

So, a fantastic weekend! Thanks to Amber and Emma and everyone that came along! Totally fab and very much appreciated!

As a side note, I have found that Amber is becoming more and more random. She says the strangest things and performs the oddest dances at the drop of a hat! But it was Emma that reminded me of the silly things that Mum says. While having a game of internet poker, I showed her that you can have drinks or food appear next to your "cyber" seat at the poker table. She genuinely expressed concern that I was wasting money. Not because of the gambling aspect but because I kept buying Gin and Tonics along with hotdogs but never eating or drinking them. I had to look twice at her before I realised that she was, in fact, serious. Realisation hit her about what she had said and she skulked off to her room in embarrassment. Top bird comment!

As for Sarahs failure to get the tug o war rockbuster......shame on you


"E. Do you want a game of tug of war? Well it's up to you, you own it"

What do you use to have a tug o war? a rope. You own it, so it is your rope. Europe. Straight forward really!!

5th April 2007.

Around the World for 30 minutes.

This was going to be a really long post. I had written the whole facts and figures, dotted every T and crossed every I. But I re-read it and realised that you don't need to hear it. Moreso.....this is my blog for me to look back on and I don't want to read it. So.......My big news in a potted version.


I am a firefighter.

I have a back injury that I will have for the rest of my life but I can do most things as long as I can plan and prepare for them. You might not know by looking at me that I have pain, but it is always there at one degree or another.

A surgeon told me to stop being an operational Fireman or risk more serious and more frequent injury. He said I HAD to change my job. He told the fire service this.

The fire service agreed and told me that I would never be operational again because of the risk.

They offered me a job inputting data about hydrants into a computer. I wasn't obliged to do this and I declined. If I am to be desk bound for the rest of my career, I will choose my desk thank you. Data input about hydrants? Sounds slightly more thrilling than hammering my own eyeballs with my dads slipper. They asked me if I would resign. I have an injury so I declined. They said they didn't know what to do, I told them to let me know when they decided.

I heard nothing for months.

Nothing was happening and when asked, it seemed that nothing would be happening. I had sold my house(having planned a sabbatical year granted by the fire service until I was injured and told that I couldn't postpone it for a month to see if I got better) and my family was moving to Ireland. I set off on World Mooch.

Over a year after being told that I was never to be operational again and declining the data input job, I was told that they were trying to sack me for not providing sick notes and was therefore absent without leave (AWOL). OVER A YEAR with nothing heard. I provided a sick note from a doctor in Auckland. Oh, by the way, despite claiming that I am still their employee, they haven't been paying me my wages and if they sack me they freeze my pension and don't pay it to me when they should, but ten years later. In actual fact, they should pay a small pension to any firefighter who is injured and cannot be operational from the moment they are unable to perform operational duty. So, I am injured. If they sack me, they get to hold on to the money that I am due now and keep it 10 years longer than if I wasn't injured at all and kept working. Incentive to sack people? Possibly.

The fire service tried to sack me once for going on a TV quiz show, while on my holidays, and winning. They said it was an unauthorised second job! I don't think I am popular with the fire service higher beings.

I recieve an E mail. Despite them knowing that I am in Auckland, they have made an appointment for me to see "the Brigade Doctor" in Leeds, in April. I offer more than 10 times to see an equally qualified doctor in Auckland and they ignore every offer. I try to speak to the doctor and he decides that despite being "my doctor" now, I am not allowed to speak with him until the Leeds appointment. Seems unethical but I am no expert. Hardly inspires confdence in his impartiality though does it?

Despite offering alternatives and the hassle and cost of everything involved, not forgetting that a 24 hour flight cannot be good for a dodgy back, the fire service have decided to insist that there is no option but for me to attend the appointment or be dismissed for non attendance. Remember that they, including the doctor I would have to see, have agreed with the surgeons report on my back. I have two weeks to get there now. They will not answer questions about how long I will need to be back for, nor why I can't see an equally qualified doctor in Auckland. The doctor I am seeing has insisted on seeing me after taking the case over from another doctor who had seen me and was prepared to make a decision about my back on the evidence given by the surgeon, GP, chiropractor and osteopath.

So, I will be flying back to the UK for an appointment. One appointment. About 30 minutes. Over $3500 NZD. Crazy? Not at all. Remember that if I refuse to go, or just don't turn up.....They will sack me and feel that they have saved all of the pittance that I would get from my pension. Will the doctor come to a different conclusion to that of his peer who is vastly more expert in back injuries? I don't see how he can, but this is "the Brigade Doctor". What will he be looking at? I have no idea. Doctors all agree that back pain can't be diagnosed accurately as it is almost impossible to pin point the reason from an assesment without MRI, Xray etc. The reason I can't be operational is due to the increased risk of more serious and more frequent injury. Not because I am daily in excrutiating pain. So when I turn up....who is to say that I am not having a good day and feel ok. The next day I might be in extreme pain. That's just the way it goes.

Ever felt like someone is out to get you?

There is loads more I can whinge about but I won't. Just thought you all ought to know what the North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service considers reasonable treatment of their injured firefighters. Shame really as the lads make it a great job, it is just that those above are too busy routing for truffles, euphamistically, to do things the right way.

I don't mind how they "get me off the books" as long as they do it the correct way, with the respect due to someone who has done all of the horrendous jobs a firefighter has to do for 9 years, and don't skulk about trying dirty tricks to save a penny here and there. Those in the know will be aware of the policy of temporarily promoting a senoir officer just before he retires, attracting an enhanced pension, often with the added bonus of ill health retirement through "asthma" or "Vertigo" or something qually irrelevant to a job that involves sitting in an office. I suppose that once they finally sack me, I will be able to get a job, as they would sack me if they thought I had a job over here! Good job I haven't even though it has meant that without pay from anywhere, the cash is thin on the ground right now!

Rockbusters is dying a death so I won't bother. But feel free to go back and show some interest!


Dan.

Shameless Merchandising!

I have been nagged enough for little posts made often instead of the War and Peace style tomes that I have force fed you. So, enough of holding your jaws apart and ramming my nonsense down your throats!

I had an email from a fellah I contacted a few years ago about a T-Shirt for Steve Fila on his retirement. His favourite expletive was C**t so I saw to it that he was presented with a T-Shirt that illustrated as much and I found one from a fab site called King Cnut. I could go into the history of King Cnut and his attempts to force back the tides (not quite the way it has been told in recent times, but go to the site and it will explain all). The site is run by a bloke called Dave Griffiths, a stand up comedian who has moved into making suggestive attire. I bought Steve his shirt and ordered a Legover shirt and the above Lucky Cnut shirt for myself, along with a Milky Gay one for a certain familial Queen who I know won't mind me mentioning him here. If you do Lenny, then when you find me you can give me the blolocking I deserve.

Anyway, Dave has been reading my blog and decided to keep in touch so I am more than happy to shamelessly promote his site to the 3 other people that read this rubbish. Please go and have a look and then nag Dave to bring back Milky Gay and Legover. While in his site, have a look at the details of his brave battle with FCUK who appear to be the great big fatcat hypocrites in this saga!

Ok..........using my mind control.......go to Kingcnut.......go to Kingcnut


www.kingcnut.com


Rockbusters....



Can someone please at least have a go at them.

I love them and don't want to stop doing them...even though they were not my idea in the first place. And if Karl Pilkington is reading this......Alright?


‘I had a tape with er…like Humpty Dumpty on it. And Hickory Dickory Dock and that. But I broke it’ - BR

Good luck



And




visit www.kingcnut.com


You know you want to.

26th March 2007

I have had a fantastic weekend! Unfortunately this puts me in two minds about what I can actually tell you all about it. But then again I do feel that we are all old friends now after spending so much time in cyberspace together. In fact, I am growing to love you all deeply and trust you all implicitly. I see you, not as random people from Campogalliano, Shenyang and Imola, but more like family. And as you are all more like family now, I think we should embrace this newly found union and backpedal through the years to catch up on all that may have wriggled past our collective consciousness. So that is 32 birthday and Christmas presents you all owe, a little something for when I graduated and you can make up for all of the lifts I never got to the discotheque by purchasing a nice set of wheels for me.

So, with that sorted, I will regale you with stories of freaks and unbelievable feats of human endeavour. For the record, I am not making reference to my webbed toes. For in Auckland it is festival time (see AK07 post previously not commented on by most of you) and that has brought some fantastic shows and performers to the southern hemisphere to amaze and entertain. Don't panic now, I haven't gone all cultured on you all, but I did go to see the most fantastic show in a tent. I do believe that it could be the most amazing show in or outside of a tent. For this was no ordinary tent, it was The Famous Speigeltent.

The Spiegel Tent


The show was La Clique and I was lucky enough to be taken by Penny Ashton, the fab poet and comedienne who hosted the second of my Auckland comedy stints, who knew one of the acts in the show. And what a show it was. It is nearly impossible to illustrate it with my limited vocab and grammatical follies but I will give it a go! The tent itself is large but from the outside it looks like a small bigtop. I am not sure if a small bigtop counts as a hyperbole but there we go. It is decorated in the style of a ye olde carnival tent with a small beer garden outside. I had no idea what the show was about, but judging by the queue, it should be a good show. Once inside I saw that seats were arranged, not infront of the stage as per ordinary shows, but with a piano to stage left and concentric circles of chairs focussed on a tiny, 2m diametre at best, circular stage in the centre of the room. The inside of the spiegeltent was really atmospheric, with coloured glass windows and mirrors around the edges and the bar. It is more like a really old building that a tent, so much so that you forget you are in a tent at all. While the tent is a star in its own right, what was to follow was astounding. One seat in the front row became available and was offered to Penny, but she insisted that I take it as she had seen the show a number of times before.

So off I went, to sit less than a metre from the strange little stage. The lights went down and the show began. From then it became a blur of flesh, skill, physical anomoalies and comedy. The English gentlemen, apparantly Australian but I won't hold it against them, produced a strongman/balancing/comedy miming/gymnastic feast and this set the tone for the night. Nothing can really be put into one catagory. It is like breakfast, but a bit like lunch but with a taste of dinner and snacks in between. What these fellahs could do made the audience gawp and cringe, cower and laugh all in one. Imagine being laid on your back and your mate does a handstand on one of your upreaching hands. Just one of them. Then you slowly have to stand up with this idiot staring down at you and his feet 6 feet above you. Try doing another handstand, but this time you are doing it one handed, while balancing the supporting hand on your mates head as he is stood up reading a newspaper. All on a 2m max stage and punters all around you. One false move and whammo!

That do anything for ya? Well try a stunning young woman with the most amazing eyes whizzing great big hoola hoops from all and any part of her body, with the hoops missing your nose by inches. I never thought I would ever, EVER be writing about someones hoop being within an inch of my face, but there we go. Hoola hooping might be something remembered in the gloom of childhood, this woman, Yulia Pykhtina, was asounding.

Although I probably have the order somewhat awry, we had one of many recurring slots by Miss Behave. From the UK and Penny's friend who organised the tickets, she was rude and cheeky. While dressed in skimpy rubber, scaring and flirting with the audience in equal measure. Sword swallowing with a large pair of scissors, it was her raport with the audience that was so entertaining. You just knew there was more to come.

Enter Captain Frodo. It turned out that I recognised him from a Graham Norton show a while back. While seeming to be clumsy and inept, he displayed his double jointed disposition. Now some of you might be able to do that crap thing where you can touch your thumb back to your wrist. Very impressive. Try dislocating your shoulder and climbing through the head of a tennis racket. Your whole body through. Then while halfway through......one arm, your head and one leg, reach down and grab a smaller tennis racket and start all over again. His act was flawless in its presentation and I think was my favourite. Tough choice though. I am not sure I should say this but do a search on youtube for Captain Frodo and you might see him on GN. This was better though. Much better if that is possible. He came back later and proceeded to stand ontop of an upturned rubbich bin. Not that impressive? Well he continued to produce smaller rubbich bins from inside the previous. Each time he stayed on top of the top bin and somehow slotted the smaller ones under himself and stood on that one untill he was sat on a baked bean tin, 6 cans/bins high on top of a piano, over 10 feet in the air. That wasn't enough, he put his legs behind his head and had a chat with the audience while only his buttocks were touching the bean can! Unbelievable.

The guest was a really nice suprise for me as it was Paul Zenon. Not many have heard of him in New Zealand, but I have seen him on loads of TV shows in the UK and have always liked him. A bit like a more sly and con-man esque David Blaine, and without the pompous eye on hand crap. Although he wasn't as freakish as the rest of the acts, he was brilliant and had the audience ducking for cover with a physics trick involving a snooker triangle, dog lead and pint of Newcaastle Brown! A good old Yorkshire lad!

After a break and a beer, the show continued with Miss behave popping a long rose through her tongue and bating the crowd some more. Also doing repeated slots was Azaria Universe, who was really funny and got progressively more naked. She was great at the clowning around but when she suddenly produced two huge white sheets and proceeded to climb them to the ceiling, she showed that she was a fab gymnast, especially when she did the plummetting and rolling number from the ceiling as seen in the BBC idents, albeit they were red sheets.

Rima appeared on the piano as the lights went up, dressed in middle eastern garb. She had her back to us and looked just like a 4 year old belly dancer. Then she turned around and we could see that, although less than a metre high, she was a beautiful and talented ADULT belly dancer. You know she is there to be watched, but you know that in polite society it is wrong to stare at a midget!

Meow Meow was a feisty prima donna caberet singer who brings new meaning to the phrase "audience participation". At any point during her act she had between 1 and 8 men holding her in the air while she serenaded the audience in the style of Edith Piaf, including yours truly! A great act but you had to be there! Miss Behave popped up again for her finale, swallowing a 2 foot long sword and bending over to show the audience! Truly a girl that has controlled her gag reflex.

I know that I have missed loads out but I am aware that I have written loads again and I keep getting whingers telling that I write too much. But to finish the show, David O'Mer plopped into a bathtub and then performed amazing gymnastic routine while splashing the audience with water and hanging from ceiling straps. It was amazing and you could hear the knickers in the female contingent ripping off as his perfectly sculptured body, dripping from up high, cascaded around the room. Remember that the stage is only 2 metres in diametre, if that. I feel that I, once again, have to pre-empt a homosexual suggestion from Fenners et al and lay my cards on the table in that I am 100% heterosexual. But this was a beautiful man. I understand that there were a number of gay fellahs in the audience too. Maybe it was their pants ripping with Davids act! After all, there is a man drought in Auckland by all accounts, for both ladies and gay blokes. With such a lack of choice and despite the no touch policy, I suppose the women and gay fellahs take what they can get. After all, buggerers can't be choosers.

If you can ever get to see La Clique at the Spiegeltent make sure that you do. It is the most brilliant show ever. And to make the evening better, we were drinking with Paul Zenon for ages after and he put us on the guestlist for his show on Saturday too! Top fellah! No celeb photo for the blog though I am afraid! I am slipping. The Zenon show was great but I feel that you have all lost the will to live. I PROMISE TO WRITE SMALLER POSTS. But I couldn't miss any of the Spiegeltent out.

Dan

Rockbusters.

No one has even attempted the last Rockbuster. Don't let me down on these! Even you Jess Morrow, sneaking a look from Espana!


So...I will leave the last one and add a new one. Get your fingers out on these please.


T.S.

Roll call in the hospital? Over there, the ones clutching their chests? That's the heart attacks. The ones wheezing? Thats' the asthma people. What about them with the inabilty to move their left hand sides?


New one.

E. Do you want a game of tug of war? Well it's up to you, you own it


Good luck.

Ok...Next rockbuster after Jerry Knops won with the correct answer of Roy orbison
Explanation required? Ok Thicko's.

R O. Mr Rogers whizzes around the celestial body.
Mr Rogers...Roy Rogers
Whizzes around.....Orbit
Celestial body...sun

Roy Orbison


See? Piece of the proverbial. Many might seem like they don't work but they do in the mind of Mr Pilkington.


New Rockbuster.....


And this was a candidate for my best although I think Sarah advised me not to publish it.


T.S.

Roll call in the hospital? Over there, the ones clutching their chests? That's the heart attacks. The ones wheezing? Thats' the asthma people. What about them with the inabilty to move their left hand sides?

Good luck.

Thanks for the Late Happy Birthday Jerry...This is for you and for those that don't already know...it is very, very true!








Some pictures to go with the post below....Just easier to put the pics in a separate post.

21st March 2007


First of all thanks for all of the happy birthday messages. Well you all really pushed the boat out there didn't you? Cheers Debs for the late call too!


Right.....action packed couple of weeks so I will attempt to recall the salient points for you all.

I didn't go to the dentist on my birthday as I was far too self absorbed to bother with health and all that rubbish. I went the day after and found out that I needed a root canal treatment on a molar! Damn.....the pain was worsened when I found out it would cost $1000...that's about £350! Better scrutinise the travel insurance as it is technically an emergency treatment. I went to Ponsonby to see a dentist, who turned out to be German. Well at least I can rest assured that he will be diligent in his actions and workmanship. His assistant was a Dutch woman so I have a truly international mouth now. The only thing that did concern me was that while he was scraping, drilling and digging out the rotten bits, he barely looked in my cake hole. He was chatting to his assistant. This did worry at first but it made the procedure worthwhile when I heard him start chatting about another practice that he works in. Apparantly the other place is tiny and the people in the waiting room can see and hear everything that hapens in the chair of oral doom. He was very concerned about patient confidentiality and was thinking of an example where this might be compromised.

"What if I was a gynaecologist?", he asked.

Through a mouth full of his fingers and scraping things I managed to say..

"If you are a gynaecologist, GET YOUR FINGERS OUT OF MY MOUTH!"

He laughed so I can report that Germans DO have a sense of humour. Mind you, the last time a German invaded something as large as my mouth, we all know what happened. And I don't think Poland had the handicap of a drill and Aryan digits to muffle their protests.

So, with recovery in mind I had a chilled out week of getting used to my new home in Herne Bay. This culminated in going to see the opening ceremony of AK07, the Auckland Festival. There were over 60,000 people in the Auckland Domain by the time I got there, late of course. At least I had the beer with me so others were dying of thirst in anticipation of my arrival! Ha ha ha ha! Helen Clark, the New Zealand Prime Minister produced an amazing piece of David Brent esque awkward showmanship when she shouted over the microphone, "Auckland is rocking tonight!". Unbelievable that no one asked her what to say beforehand but the sniggers and titters were deafening! But fair play to her, at least she is getting involved and her heart was in the right place. Bless her!

There were some fab bands on, even though I got there late, but the highlight of the evening were the fireworks by a French company called Groupe F.

http://www.aucklandfestival.co.nz/Events/OpeningEvent/Detail.aspx?id=241

They were fantastic and lit up the entire sky and very nearly 30,000 of the gathered throng with falling embers. But with such a fab show, a few blind children is a small amount to pay for pyrotechnic wonder. I might try and fire a few pics on here to illustrate ut I may just forget. And besides, with the remnants of a Roman Candle lodged in my left eye, finding things is not as easy as you might think. So with a belly full of beer and second degree burns to my face, I went to bed and slept to prepare myself for another trip to the South Island on Sunday. If I manage to post some pictures from the South, please do not look too closely at the blister on my lip. I would love to tell you that it is a burn from the talented gallic Guy Fawkes but I fear that it was a badly timed cold sore. Tell me....what is the point of them?

So, I zoomed to the South to spend a week with Sarah (see earlier posts "look who it is!"). She had spent a week in the South, mooching around with Tasha (See Carns posts) but was alone for the final week of her stay. After some very bad news she was not looking forward to a week alone in a strange country, so I did the only decent thing and stepped into the breach! I know that you expect no less from a gentlemanly hero like me and I hate to disappoint (although I regularly do!). Having spent Sunday night in Christchurch we went to Sumner and I got terribly burnt on the beach there. I did have a photo taken showing the extent of the damage but as I am in underpants, I don't think anyone needs to see that monstrocity. When talking to my Mum about getting burnt, and explaining that it wasn't particularly sunny that day, my little Mum educated me on the cunning methods of ultra violent rays. You see, the mistake you and I make is that we assume that it is the sun that burns pale skin like mine. Not so. According to my Mum it is the wind that does the damage. I tried to clarify this by suggestign that what she meant was that the wind cools you so that you don't feel the heat and the burn, but no! Apparantly it IS the wind taht actually burns you. And my Mum is always correct so who am I to argue. I bet the American authorities are stunned by the cost of aftersun in the wake of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans!

I am not going to go over the details of the South trip too much as you will be familiar with my last trip and we went to, more or less, the same places. We did however go to Wanaka. A little like a calmer and quieter Queenstown, Wanaka is beautiful and I would definately say to visit for a night of relaxation either to or from Queenstown. Should you find your way there then you absolutely have to go to the Cinema Paradiso.

http://www.paradiso.net.nz/about_the_cinema.html

It is superb! The room is small and the screen is about 20ft by 10ft, or something like that, but it is the inside of the auditorium that makes it a must see. you wander in and settle down in a sofa, armchair or even a Morris Minor, WITH A BEER IN YOUR HAND and watch films while feeling like you are in your own living room. Then, halfway through, the film suddenly stops and the lights come on, giving you the opportunity to go into the foyer for refill of beer and freshly baked, still warm cookie! Absolutely stunning! I seem to remember that intervals were the norm when I went to the flicks with my Dad in Castleford, but this could be rose coloured nostalgia specs I am wearing. And I fell asleep during Star Wars too. Nothing changes as I caught 40 winks during The Prestige in Wanaka. Good film but the atmosphere was the main attraction. Oh, and King Kong is peering menacingly over the top of the cinema! Brilliant.

While in Wanaka we also went to Stuart Landsboroughs Puzzling World. He is a sceptic of psychic and other sorts of nonsense and set up this theme park with illusions everywhere. It is great for children like me. There is a really frustrating maze and rooms that are set on an angle to make everything just seem really odd. Water appears to flow uphill etc. I loved that although I did feel a bit sick until I got used to it.

As I said, I won't go over board about the trip and bore you all with reproductions of my previous but Queenstown was great again and I kicked Sarah's ass on the luge. I am King Of The Luge. King Of The Hill in fact.

I couldn't get Sarah to do a bungy jump but she did get me to a rugby game in Christchurch. The Crusaders v The Bulls from South Africa. As we entered Jade Stadium we were confronted by "Crusaders" galloping around the pitch on horseback! There were flames and even a small castle in the corner of the ground. The Crusaders won handsomely and I loved it. Not a patch on Goodison in full voice, but with fewer excited Scousers shouting, my neck stayed dryer.

So to Monday and it was really sad to see Sarah go off to Sydney on the next part of her trip around the World. I had a great week and seeing a familiar face was brilliant. When she gets back to England, look after her, as she is fab. And Sarah, I know you read this so you better put a few Rockbusters on the site(see below). It was great to have such a lovely part of England fly out here and visit. Keep reading this nonsense and I will speak with you on MSN soon. I am too tight to pay for a phone call. I hope you find what you are looking for when you get back and I will keep you informed if about what I find out here! All change with the Yorkshire folk!

So as not to write too much I will leave it there. Loads missed out but I think you had to be there. Although while driving around for so many kilometres we decided to play Karl Pilkingtons "Rockbusters". It has nothing to with Blockbusters. You have to decipher a "cryptic" clue to guess the name of the band or artist but it is very lateral and usually makes very little sense. I think we should do it here....all interactive like. So to replace the much missed Bowel Check, we will have Rockbusters. I will start you off and you can leave your answers in the comments, along with your own attempts at clues. A few to get you started. And no cheating by looking at the answers that I know you can find in cyber land. See link below and if you can do the gold run I will be impressed.

http://www.xfm.co.uk/Article.asp?id=97369

A K. Exploding pet.
Atomic Kitten. Easy eh? They get much more tricky.


A M. That champagne belonged to the boxer’s kid.
Alison Moyet. Ali's son Moet. See what he did there?


And one for you to have a crack at, courtesy of Sarah.


R O. Mr Rogers whizzes around the celestial body.

That's all for now but I imagine loads will come to me and I will have to backdate update.


P.S.

I have decided to write a book. I am doing the third in the Bridget Jones stories. After becoming disillusioned with men as they always let her down, our heroine decides to move on to satisfying her sexual needs in a farm yard. Look forward to the release of Bridget Bones Dairy. Sorry Mum.

7th March 2007

Just a little self indulgent post.........


I am 32 today! Woo hoo!


I woke up this morning with a hole in my tooth so I guess that I will zoom to the dentist...not today though, not on my Birthday! When I woke up I went for a little stroll to the beach at the bottom of my street.... very tranquil! Off to the beach (a different one) and out for a Mexican for my tea. Better make sure that I don't get a burrito stuck in my hole! Watched the Osbournes last night. Scott, we are in good company....Ozzie loves burritos too!


Right. Just wanted to let you all know it was my Birthday, wish Kev Caulfield a happy birthday for the 2nd(didn't forget but kind of did mate, wish Vicky in Hull a happy birthday for the 7th too!

Perhaps this will get people to actually post comments.....but then again......probably not! I know you are reading!!!!! Join in!


Dan the 32 year old



P.S. Will get some photos of Emma and Amber on here along with the beach and the house. Well if they let me. Emma and Amber. Not the beach and house.

Little post



Who is in Campogalliano and reading my blog? I think that it is brilliant that people are taking the time to have a look at what I have been doing! I want more comments but only non offensive ones if possible! Tell everyone to have a look at my page as it gives me something to look forward to when i see people in far off lands having a peek!

Dan

5th March 2007

Well, it took some time but I have found a fab place to live. After trawling round many houses and apartments, some very nice and some not so nice, I have found a great little house in Herne Bay. After visiting on Saturday and meeting Emma and Amber, I was hoping to hear from them with positive news. It is a really bright, little house with everything you could hope for, along with a massive garage underneath. A boys den! While I don't intend to dash in and fill it full of pool tables, pinball machines and multigyms that will never be used, it is great to know that it is there should I get a blast of enthusiasm. Emma and Amber were dead nice and seemed really funny and friendly. Having popped round tonight, I see that they don't mind the odd glass of wine too, so I think we are off to a running start.

There do seem to be millions of people, all zooming around Auckland and looking for somewhere to live. This has lead me to wonder about what freaks and oddballs they must have had to have selected me as the best option! It reminded me about when I was selling my house in Pocklington and had a couple of weird prospective buyers. Firstly, there was the woman that came round and liked it. Then she came again with her 18 year old son. My little house was exactly that, little. She then came back again. Really keen? You would think so. This was only solidified when she came back again and brought her Mother! A little time past and I saw her in a pub and asked if she was going to put an offer in, to which she replied, "I don't think the house is for me but I think you are lovely. Is there any chance that we can be together?" Not much chance love, but thanks for wasting my time!

Then I had a viewer who was older than my Mum, and I had to beat her with a stick to get her to leave!! I am not joking, I can talk, but this woman stayed for an hour and more! She left and I heard nothing until I received a letter through the post adressed to

Mr F.Ireman
1 Millers Row
Chapman.....blah blah blah.

The letter stated that the house was too small for her but that she would love to take me out to dinner if I was interested as she thought I was lovely!

So, with so many oddballs in the world, how Emma and Amber came to decide that I was the best candidate is beyond me. The other people must have been mutants or perhaps they turned the place down!

Incidentally, in previous posts, I mentioned that Scott (Back in UK.....turn it topwise, TOPWISE! missing you mate) had made me attend one of them gym things. Well, I have continued to go but my suspicions have been alerted and raised somewhat. I don't subscribe to the "Gyms are for men who want to pick up men" stereotypes, but it would seem that Les Mills Gym is where men go to pick up other men. Perhaps I should have been alerted to the homosexual nature by the LES in the name but I am assured he was an Olympian. Now I have to stress that I am absolutely heterosexual and that I embrace our homosexual contingent in every way. Well not every way. Not in a naked, cover yourself in jam and get groovey kind of way. But I am ambivolent (not sure about the spelling or the correct usage there) to who wants to buy flowers for whom, who wants to mow which lawn and what team people wish to bat for. It has no effect on me whatsoever. I honestly don't care a toss, if you pardon the expression. Now, as I had been to see Emma and Amber for the first time, I walked down Jervois Road (apparantly pronounced Jervis and not with a French accent*) and down College Hill to pop into Les Mills on the way back to my hotel. There my stereotypes of gyms was fatally altered.

As I entered the locker room (not a euphamism) and was getting changed into my fetching shorts and vest, I heard a voice behind me. Very much a mans voice. A deep mans voice. No shocks there as it was a mens locker room. But what he said sent shivers down my spine. Shivers of fear before you start. I am not going to reconfirm my sexuality at every turn here so take it from me that I am heterosexual. The voice from behind me, WHILE I WAS BENDING OVER TO GET MY TOWEL FROM MY BAG, said....



You've had a long walk, haven't you!


I turned around and was greeted by a man with a smile from ear to ear and eyes that went up and down my scantily clad, lanky, skinny yet wobbly bellied physique! He went on to explain that he had "seen" me on Jervois Road! He had been following me! I know that my appearances in Shortland Street and Budweiser commercials would attract some stalker types, after all my performances were spectacular, but not in the gym, please!

Not one to find fear from people, I made my polite attempts at conversation and left to go and do very manly things like lift wrought iron, push the envelope and max the burn, while taking a refreshing drink of sulphuric acid and chowing down on a light snack of girders(imperceptible nod to Jeffers there). The same man seemed to follow me around the gym, using the same equipment as me! It didn't matter what I went to use, the shoulder press, the hamstring tickler, the bicep bulger, it didn't matter. After my workout I went to the relaxing bit in the steam room, sauna, jacuzzi pool and cool plunge pool. Guess who showed up! I managed to hop from one bit to the next as he was scuttling along, one pace behind me. While heading for a relax in the jacuzzi, I descended the stairs. At this point, I should make it clear that the standard wear for these areas is as God intended. So as I awkwardly tried to hide my modesty and get into the pool, a DIFFERENT man decided to get out. He was like a kid looking for Christmas presents! But I kept my hand in defensive mode and settled down for a chill out in the bubbles.

An old fellah hopped in so I thought I was safe from the camp invasion that seemed intent on US Military Cock and Awe tactics, but he offered me the seat next to him as there was, and I quote, "A lovely powerful jet!" This was getting ridiculous! I am no Brad Pitt** and am not used to this kind of attention! Even the reducing effects of the temperature in the cold pool did not seem to to convince these predators that men were not my bag. Despite trying to hide my walnut whip, these men seemed to think I was fair game for some Metrosexuality. Just as I was beginning to think it couldn't get any worse, Mr "You've had a long walk" got in the pool. I left. You never told me about this bit Woodhall...YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT THIS!

Right...update when I have internet sorted out in my new home.

Dan

*Other names of places are Mangere, not pronouced monjeere as the giggling bus driver informed me but mang-gary
Port Chevalier.....not as in Lawrence Olivier but chandlier.
Whakapapa....you won't believe me but WH is pronouced F. So that is Fuckapapa(honestly how it is said).

**Brad Pitt. A line from Scotty.
"Do you think Jennifer Anistons new boyfriends dare ask if she likes them? Afterall, what is she going to say? "you are no Brad Pitt!"" Nice one mate!

P.S. Got a text from Scott in Thailand. Here it is verbatim.

Hello mate. In Bangkok. Not joking but every time I leave hotel I get 50 women offering me a massage. Tell me honestly mate, is there something wrong with my posture?
I am supposed to be the funny one. You go back to teasing the little gay fellahs in the gym.

A couple of pictures from Muriwai beach.

Look who is here! Just wandered around the harbour and bumped into Sarah! What are the chances of that? My very very good friend from York! Ok, so I admit it was planned and it was great to see her and Marie....No picture of Marie!! Sorry Love! Sarah has headed South now and, I believe, has done a Taupo skydive too! This is someone who was terified of flying! Well I say skydive, but I am not sure it counts if you only jump from 12,000 feet.


I have realised, and been told off by an avid fan, that I have been slack with the photos. So here are a few random ones from the last week or so just to break up the monotony a bit. With house hunting and staying in the smallest hotel room in the World....I haven't really been up to much. I have visited a couple of new places by virtue of the fact that potential new homes are there but I have a habit of deciding to walk there from the town centre and get lost. Right...pictures.....have a look.


Dan

23rd February 2007

Interesting night!


Went to be an extra on a Budweiser Commercial being shot in Hearne Bay last night. The agency first contacted me to tell me to be there at 7:30pm. Then sent a message to say it might go on a bit late, perhaps into the wee small hours. Oh well, it will save me money by not drinking. So I got there in time for hair and make up, (yes I know...gaywise, GAYWISE! Once again, those that know me will be aware of my aversion to make up and stickers! No stickers here thank god and the make up hid the mozzie bites on my noggin!) Sat around for ages. Surrounded by models in skimpy clothes on a balmy night, it all sounds good, no? Some of the female models were wearing skimpy clothes too! Damn that make up is turning me fruity!

So, surrounded by the young and the beautiful, I was feeling out of place somewhat! Then came the news. The "wee small hours" was going to be 8am! How crap? There were people who had been on the shoot the previous night too and they only finished at 3 or 4am, then went to their proper day jobs and were here again. None of the agents ha said that it would be until 8am!

What made it worse was that the house we were filming in was stunning and really cool, but the holding area for the plebby extras was on the fornt drive! I nearly told them to poke it, but it wasn't the production teams fault as far as I knew. The agents (who work FOR US let me remind you) should have had this info before we agreed to do it. It seemed that all of the agents had pulled this same fast one so maybe it was the production team! Anyway, I filmed for approximately 1 hour at about 11:30 and then wasn't involved. So I get paid for all of the time until finish (7am as it turned out) but spent my time sat on the concrete driveway as it was more comfy than the crappy fold out chairs they provided.

So I am very tired and about to tell the agncy that they are scum bags and that they should ram their agency up their rectums. I thought about it at one point and summed it up nicely.

I probably wasn't earning enough from the shoot to pay for the hotel that I wasn't sleeping in. Eat your heart out Ricky Gervais.

21st February 2007

Damn New Zealand and it's "bad blood".


There are over 4 million people in New Zealand.



1.2 million (or something like that) live in Auckland and its suburbs.



I know of no disease or contagion that affects the indigenous population.



I am a regular O rh + blood group.*



So why have all of the mosquitoes in New Zealand had a conference on my forehead and upper torso? At least 17 independant bites have been found and only one mozzie squashed. I am like John Merrick. Looking for a flat with weeping sores running down my face is not giving me the advantage that my good looks, natural charm, tremendous wit and unmeasurable modesty usually afford me. No one wants a flatmate who, when smiling politely at one of there jokes, has plasma running into their eyes from a Krakatoa bulging from their hairline.

Why do we even have mosquitoes? the only reason I can think of is my theory about all flies. That God made cows and realized that they were all dead lazy by nature (hence the phrase..." you lazy cow ", circa 1237 BC)realizing that he had made an error when creating our bovine burger and milkshake combo, he introduced the insect versions of Gypo's round a skip (Latin name Annoyous bastardos) so that the cow would get a little bit of tail swishing exercise. Well thank you god. I am now a takeaway in flip flops. I have mastered walking in them by the wway without resorting to monkey fist like feet.



*I am o rh + (the most common group) but I have a little story about why my blood is "special".

About 1998, living and working in Whitby, I went to give blood to the mobile blood transfusion service van that comes over from Leeds periodically. I gave my pint and went about my way looking forward to the imminent bank holiday weekend.

I returned home from work on the Friday to a answer phone message that went as follows, in a thick Asian accent.

"This is a message for Mr Daniel Siron. It is the Leeds Blood centre here. We have an urgent message for you. It is about your recent blood donation. We need to speak to you immediately. It is very important. Thank you."

What are you to make of that little gem? I rang the Leeds Blood centre only to find everyone had gone home for the weekend. The bank holiday weekend. The LONG bank holiday weekend. So I spent Friday, Saturday and Sunday panicking about what nasties they might have found in my blood that made it "URGENT" that I get in touch with them. Although it is unlikely in the extreme that I have contracted something nasty from anywhere, your mind starts to play tricks on you. What about the glasses in the pubs I have been drinking in? Can you catch AIDS from a toilet seat? What if I ate a sandwich made from a pig that had been sleeping around?

OH MY GOD! i AM GOING TO DIE!!!!!!!!!

The Blood Centre don't contact people to tell them that their blood is some of the nicest they have had and thank you. They don't call up and compliment you on the aroma of your platelets. This can only be bad news. And to make it worse I can't even call them on Monday! God is not only punishing me for something in a past life by infecting me with some kind of body rotting, penis shrivelling, eye blinding, stinking disease, but the cruelest of creators is making me wait an extra day to find out how long I have left! I might be dead by the time Tuesday comes!

4 sleepless nights later I call the number. I am weakened by the mytery disease by now and can barely hold the phone to my ear, the good ear that still works. I am certain the other is dropping off and only hears the sound of the grim reapers cloak dragging over my hallway carpet. Dry lipped and bleary eyed I push through the pain barrier as every digit aches, nay excruciatingly stabs, as I press the phones digits. Weeping uncontrolably from the stess, strain, stench and pain of this silent killer, I hear a voice at the end of the phoneline. Asked to repeat my request as my near death voice struggles to communicate, I ask for help. Eventually I am put through to the correct department. They must have been expecting my call. They must have a crew on standby for just this emergency. The MUST have a Ferrari ready to zoom out and deliver me to quarantine for my final and most contagious hours. My family would already be at the military guarded clinic, trying to keep a brave face on things. They don't ask too many questions. They love me and that is all that matters. They don't actually want to touch me but they love me all the same. Well I am sure they would say that when they get back from the cafeteria. Grief hits people in different ways and I am not selfish. If they need a pepperoni pizza to get them through these dark hours, then how can I increase their pain?

The voice at the other end of the phone sounded suprisingly positive. I suppose they are trained to deal with death on a daily basis. But wait....! What is this? I am not diseased? There must be some mistake! I had the call! What do you mean I am perfectly healthy? Check your records again, young lady! I am dying and I won't hear a word against it! What? A baby is going to be born in the next couple of days and it has a rare blood factor? I am one of only 2 people in Yorkshire with that factor? Even the mother doesn't have this rare factor and you need me to be on stand by in case there are complications? But I am o rh+, everyone has the same blood as me!

It turns out that I was not dying. I wasn't remotely ill. My parents weren't on standby. They weren't even eating pizza, let alone pepperoni. There was a baby being born, as above, in St James hospital and, although I have the most common blood group, I also have a very rare factor in it too. Crisis averted. But what was that message all about? Talk about panic over nothing! I didn't know whether to laugh or shout at the Leeds Blood Centre! I opted to go have a few pints! After all I deserved it. I HAD just nearly died, hadn't I?