Wednesday, 21 September 2011
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Monday, 12 September 2011
This one last night though... woah. I didn't catch a name. It was all over so quickly anyhow. He scuttled across the rug, down onto the carpet and then came to rest amongst a mélange of cables and wires by the plug socket. There was a brief stand-off where I jumped (out of my skin and) up onto the bed. In a panic I looked around the room for a glass or a cup, or any kind of receptacle with which I could capture it, but there was nothing. I needed to act fast; once they go too deep into the wires you'll never coax them out. At this point I saw the Right Guard on the bedside cabinet, grabbed it, jumped down from the bed and struck the spider in the face. At least one leg came free upon impact. I wasn't proud. I couldn't be sure that it was dead though, so I had to strike it several times. It was kinda like one of those scenes in a film where the murderer will keep bludgeoning the body - even though it's clearly dead - and a fine mist of blood is spraying all over their face.
When it was over I used the toilet roll method to dispose of the body. With luck the whole thing would have been seen by another spider and it'll serve as a warning.
Saturday, 10 September 2011
Of the new stuff, one of them is called Our Separate Ways and the other is called Tonight. Neither of them are the kind of thing that I want to be writing (i.e. upbeat catchy pop!) but I'm proud of both of them. Hopefully I can post them soon, and then I can go on about whether or not what passes for my lyrics are full of mundane & obvious clichés, or just very direct. I'd like to think it's the latter, but I don't know. I guess that stylistically and thematically both of the songs are very much related to this one. Kind of.
Friday, 9 September 2011
I don't know what it means, why I use it, or even what context it should be used in, but I am obsessed. It's really pleasing. I'm throwing it out there left, right and centre. Sounds like maybe it should be the name of a small sweet to me. Like Starburst, but not square-shaped. Hmm, if sprootles were sweets I'd imagine they'd be more like a big bag of Skittles, only larger, and each individual sprootle would have it's own papery wrapping like Starburst. Basically they would be a cross between Starburst and Skittles but with a really weak and watered-down taste. Sprootles would be subtle in flavour but high in fun.
Anyway, I got really excited a few days ago thinking I'd invented the word roffle (which could be deployed as an alternative to ROFL - not that I've ever used ROFL) so I went and Goggled it straight away and everything seemed to be fine. No matches. Nothing whatsoever... but after doing that I did the sensible thing, Googled it, and found that some fucking munce had beaten me to it. Ha, see what I did there? Goggled/Googled. Yeah, I know. Hilarious. Laugh a minute. Your face is aching. I understand. Still, awesome joke aside, I'm pretty disappointed someone got there first.
Edit: FFS. Somebody's got to le mayo as well.
Thursday, 8 September 2011
Monday, 5 September 2011
Friday, 2 September 2011
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Monday, 13 June 2011
We are currently seeking independent witness evidence. However, in view of the accident circumstances we must hold your client fully responsible.’
I was aware of a lorry just behind me in the right-hand lane as I approached the speed camera zone and the branch-off. I could see from my offside wing mirror that it was very close to the back of my car – approximately level with my rear wheels. Everything was fine as I passed where the road branched off until, seconds later, I heard an extremely loud crash. My car was then out of my control and started to veer to the right. I knew instantly that the lorry had made contact. I managed to correct the steering and keep the car relatively straight, however the lorry continued to plough across into my lane. I was absolutely terrified. The lorry had clearly changed lanes without bothering to check whether or not it was safe to do so.
At this point, with the lorry forcing across into my lane from the right, I lifted my foot off of the accelerator pedal and continued to try to keep my car on the road. I was terrified that I would be forced off of the carriageway and down onto the road (the A205) that runs underneath. Because the lorry driver was unaware of my car being there – something which he would later confirm to me – he was not slowing down. As a result, my car, upon a second substantial impact, turned sideways so that my entire offside was pushed up against his front grill and was pushed along the carriageway until both vehicles came to rest. This second impact was where my offside front window shattered, showering me with glass.
The vehicles came to rest with the lorry occupying the majority of the left lane of the carriageway and my car wedged against the front of the lorry at a 90 degree angle to the direction of the road. My car was partially obscuring the right lane, so we were blocking both lanes of traffic. To his credit, Michael Greco did exit his vehicle fairly soon after we came to rest, however I have since sadly come to realise that this seemed more to do with the fact that he wanted to move the vehicles as soon as possible to remove any evidence rather than anything else. Having just been on the receiving end of such a surprising and terrifying experience I was sitting in my car in a state of shock. It’s no exaggeration to say that I feared for my life from the moment of the first impact. I have been driving for the best part of 8 years with no incident, so this was an unprecedented and most unwelcome situation for me. From what I can gather this is not something shared by Michael Greco, who implied to me in the conversation following the incident that he had been involved in something quite similar relatively recently. I recall him saying something along the lines of how ‘these claims can take ages’ and how he only recently had one settled. This certainly suggests to me the reason why he was so keen to move the vehicles as soon as possible and that this was a tactical move on Michael Greco’s behalf so any witnesses stuck behind would have been able to pass through.
Michael Greco exited his vehicle and came around to the front where my car was and asked if I was okay or if I was injured etc. At the time I felt quite relieved to have been alive still. I said that I thought I was okay, and then asked him why he had cut across into my lane. I asked how it was possible that he hadn’t seen me – especially as he’d been driving along in the right-hand lane behind me for the last few minutes at least. His reply was that, yes, he had been aware that I was there, but that he “assumed that I had turned off” where the road had branched to the left. I assured him that, as he could see now, I most definitely had not turned off. It was at this point that Michael Greco first muttered something about whether or not I’d seen “what a car just did up ahead”. I had no idea what he was talking about, but it subsequently dawned on me that this could be a possible reason why he had let his concentration slip so much as to forget that a car was travelling along a dual-carriageway, slightly ahead of him in the lane on the left in broad daylight. In this initial exchange, Michael Greco also said – when I asked why he didn’t appear to slow down in too much of a hurry after he first made impact – that he thought he had a puncture or that there was something wrong with his engine. Once again I assured him that the reason why he was slowing down was because he had a car wedged sideways against his front grill.
I was still in a state of shock and unsure of what to do next. Having never been in such a situation before, I asked whether we should call the police. Michael Greco suggested that because nobody was badly hurt and as the car hadn’t rolled over, it would be best to move the vehicles to the hard-shoulder. He was quite quick in asking me whether the ignition was working and the car had drive. His implication was that this was not serious enough for the police. However, in hindsight, it is obvious to me that calling the police would have absolutely been the right thing to do, and that by moving the vehicles Michael Greco knew that he was significantly raising his chances of getting away with what was a reckless and unsafe road manoeuvre as any independent witnesses would be lost. Being confused and still in shock, I agreed to move the car to the hard shoulder. He got back into his cab and reversed slightly along the carriageway. My car was freed from his grill and I managed to turn it back the right way and drive along a short distance to the hard shoulder with Michael Greco’s lorry following close behind.
Once we stopped on the hard shoulder I was finally able to get out of my car. I was experiencing quite an unpleasant tingling sensation down my right side, in my arm and leg. Here we exchanged insurance details and contact details. I made sure that I had his correct mobile number by ringing my phone from his at the scene. I then took a photo of the front of Michael Greco’s lorry, as well as the damage to my car. Michael Greco took several photographs of the significant damage to my car and his body language and general demeanour at this time suggested that he was wearing this almost as a badge of honour. This is when Michael Greco gave me the impression that he had been involved in this kind of thing before. He seemed somewhat overly friendly by this point, in quite a jovial mood, something I put down possibly to shock at the time. After all, I am not suggesting that he deliberately caused a crash, but I can understand that he would have been equally shocked, given that his lapse of concentration and judgement had resulted in such an incident. After all of this, Michael Greco drove off, leaving me to organise recovery of my vehicle from the side of the A2.
Of all this, I am most puzzled by the fact that Michael Greco would appear to admit to being involved in an incident with my car, yet he never reported it to his insurance company. He took photographs, many photographs, of the damage which my vehicle had sustained yet he never had the common decency to report this to his insurance. I find it mortifying that he can cause a collision with a car which sustained the level of damage which mine did and still not think it worthy enough to report to his insurance company. I contacted my insurance immediately on the 25th. The 25th of February is also the first time that I contacted Michael Greco’s insurance. I would then go on to contact Michael Greco's insurance company several times over the following weeks, only to be told that they had been unable to contact him. I believe the line was that they had “yet to receive a response from Michael Greco”.
I can’t believe Michael Greco has the audacity to suggest that I, a driver with eight years of experience with no previous incident, would fail to see a lorry driving along just behind me in the lane to the right of my car. It would be amusing if it wasn’t such a serious issue, as I can’t help but wonder what is more likely; that I, driving a Nissan Micra, would fail to spot a lorry driving just behind me in the lane to my right, or that a lorry – with its raised driver sight-line – would fail to see a Nissan Micra driving along in the lane to its left. Of course, the most depressing thing is that, although he has finally accepted that he was involved in this incident, Michael Greco has felt the need to completely fabricate his response. His statement that I moved from the left lane into the right, is ridiculous as I had been in the left lane since joining the A2 and had remained there, in anticipation that I would be turning off left to join the M25 towards Essex. Given the weather conditions, time of day and lightness of traffic, as well as the fact that I was driving home in no hurry as it was my day off, I had no need to be in an overtaking lane.
I dread to think that he is still on the road and able to cause accidents like these to other drivers. I would hate for someone to experience what I had to and be met with initial indifference and the response that it was their own fault. "
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Monday, 30 May 2011
Monday, 23 May 2011
On a side note, I trimmed the moustache element of the beard with scissors over the weekend. What a revelation! I feel like a new man. I wonder what else this hair on my face has in store for me.
(More beard stuff soon)
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
You probably won't know/care but three months ago I was involved in a car accident - nothing major (I mean, I didn't die and neither did anybody else) but it left my car a write-off. Put simply, I was struck from the rear by a lorry on a dual carriageway when it decided to cut across into the lane I'd been driving in without any warning, not seeming to worry about the little Nissan Micra that had been quite happily chugging along there for some time. Somewhat incredibly, the driver of the lorry failed to spot this little car that he had been following for god knows how long and proceded to plough across from the overtaking lane, through my car and into the left lane. It was a major shock for me... after all, we were travelling at 50mph at the time. To suddenly hear a loud crash and feel the car disappear from beneath me... man, that was scary.
Moments after the initial impact my car was swerving all over the place and I was desperately trying to correct the steering to avoid going off the carriageway and falling down on to another major road that runs beneath. I remember quite vividly thinking this is how people die. It was quite an awful realisation to be honest, and I'm not getting all melodramatic over it; that people just die. Anyone. Life can be this one great glorious fanfare or whatever, and then you choke to death on a chicken nugget. It's so terribly mundane. Anyway, the lorry driver continued to move into my lane, even when my car was wedged against his front grill at a 90 degree angle to the direction of the road, until he eventually twigged that something had happened and we came to rest. I was amazed by his response when I asked how it was possible that he'd managed not to see me there; he said that he'd been aware of me but "assumed" that I'd turned off.
I was in shock. It felt pretty major to me and, honestly, I didn't really know what to do in this situation. It's something that I had absolutely no experience or reference points to draw from. We'd been in a collision on a major road, a lorry had hit me and my car was in a terrible state. I wasn't feeling too good either. I wondered whether we should call the police, but the driver of the lorry seemed to have other ideas and suggested that we move the vehicles if we could to the hard shoulder. This would be something that I would come to regret... mainly because calling the police is such an obvious thing to do in this situation (hindsight is a wonderful thing, I know) but also because, at the moment he suggested we move the vehicles, he knew that he could get away with it. In my susceptible state I fell for it. It sickens me.
I'd love to go into the details and name the guy, but really the only thing that I can say on the matter is that it takes a certain sort of person to cause an accident like that - an accident that wrote-off a car and could so easily have killed me - and yet not even have the common decency to report it to their insurance company. A certain type of person to stand there laughing and joking around, taking photographs of the car he just wrecked with his neglegent & dangerous driving, wearing it as some kind of badge of honour. I'm not even talking about admitting liabilty here either; I'm talking about the basic etiquette (legal requirement??) of reporting a traffic accident. That he thinks he can get away with it is possibly the saddest thing of all. I contacted my insurance company as soon as I was able to do so. I then went on to contact his insurance company several times over the course of the month that followed only to be told that they had so far been unable to contact their client. Bullshit. He finally decided to respond once the solicitors got involved, albeit to laughably suggest that it was in fact I, in a Nissan Micra, that failed to see him, in a big fuck-off lorry, who caused the collision by changing lanes.
Heh, well I say that it's laughable but the truth is that I haven't found it particularly funny at any point. Not when I was wedged on the front of his lorry thinking "okay that hasn't killed me" but looking back though the passenger side window for the thing that would, and not now. Still, months later it's nice to see that he's finally acknowledged that he was involved in a crash that happened in February. No, that doesn't look suspicious at all...
But sarcasm aside, and, in all seriousness, I knew from the moment that he got out of the cab that he would either deny responsibilty or completely fabricate a story.
I mean, he was, after all...
Friday, 13 May 2011
Thursday, 12 May 2011
Saturday, 7 May 2011
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Well I can't speak for anybody else here, but I went out and sat in the little park opposite my flat yesterday and, well... well I can tell you this much... for the first time in a decade I was not afraid. Not afraid. Get that? No? Ok, let me say it again. I. Was. Not. Afraid. Make a note of that. No urge to take a quick peek underneath the bench or behind the bush before I sat down. No terror-induced cold sweats from looking at every pram that went past, wondering whether or not his bearded face was lurking in there. Yup, at last the monumental, earth-shattering news we'd all been waiting for had finally filtered through. Bin Laden was dead. Terror was over, and everything had changed. We were free. Blah blah blah. Stuff about terrorism. Blah. Islamic fundamentalism, blah blah blah. Extremism. Blah blah.
On a serious note though, it doesn't even feel like news. It's The Universal Meh.
THIS on the other hand most certainly does feel like news. Won't stop Morning Mr. Magpie being crap though.
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Friday, 29 April 2011
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
- Players that look like local-branch building society managers (Stuart Bingham)
- Players that look like vicars (Martin Gould)
- Players that look like live-action amalgamations of several Matt Groening characters rolled into one & served up with a hefty dollop of Pillsbury Doughboy (Mark Allen)
- Big Baby
- Oh, and Stephen Lee is still a massive problem too.
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
So, yeah, this one - The Chaperone - stars a wrestler called Triple H. (There he is, up there.) Now, here is a man who - and I mean this with the greatest respect - possesses both the screen presence and the charisma of a grizzled testicle. That's right... a grizzled testicle. The most worrying part of all this is that my (otherwise perfect!) girlfriend used to fancy him... and, even worse, I suspect she still does.
* I suppose I should admit that I've never bothered to watch a film made by WWE Studios. I am fairly confident that they are shit though.
(Oh yeah, and the beard is still intact. Still not very convincing though)
Sunday, 17 April 2011
Despite every sign pointing to the fact that I'm physically incapable of doing so, at this moment in time I am actively trying to grow a beard. I am cultivating, nurturing and encouraging. Anyway, it's been a couple of weeks now and, I kid you not, I saw an old lady in Morrisons the other day with a more impressive showing than me. Although I'm probably being too hard on myself as her effort consisted of a handful of hairs, maybe thirty or so at a push. I have at least 31. Win.
Hmmm, so, yeah, I thought that by getting this beardy admission out there I would maybe feel a little better about the whole thing - and that maybe some of the burden would be removed. I don't think it's helping though.
It's a strange thing as sometimes I'll catch my reflection in a mirror or some other surface and think "yeah, that looks impressive" or, if I'm feeling particularly buoyant, it can manifest in something like "go for it my son!" But then there are also times (far more frequent times) when I will see my reflection and think something along the lines of "Adam, that looks shit." I think the problem is often that I see my offering more as an apology than a beard... especially when you come face to face with a fully-paid-up, card-carrying veteran of the beard wearing scene. I mean, really, it goes without saying that these fuckers will send an aspiring beard-grower like myself into a spiralling vortex of self-pity and embarrassment, but I'll say it anyway. Of course, when we've come to our senses, woken up and realised that this facial hair lark just isn't for us, done the sensible thing and shaved, well... well then we can go back to simply admiring the beard from afar. We can appreciate it at face value (beard value,) freed from the all-encompassing gloom of self-loathing.
Conversely, even people like me have our little moments of satisfaction when we stumble across others in what seems to be a worse position than ourselves. And because these situations can be few and far between, the victory is a sweet one. In fact I almost felt this rare and sweet sensation of victory with the old lady in Morrisons but for two reasons; firstly, the fact that she was an old lady, and, secondly, the thickness of those hairs. She was showing substantial girth.
On the plus side, I think it's going well.
Or maybe I don't. I dunno...
I think I'm going to stick it out for a for more days yet. I'm starting to think that it could be like that awkward stage people go through when they're trying to grow their hair long. When it's too long to be short, and too short to be long, so instead resides in some kind of no man's land in between. Maybe that's what's happening, right? Hmmm. I shall plough this furrow for the foreseeable future. I'll keep you posted.