I'll leave graffiti where you've never been kissed

On the train earlier I noticed some football graffiti by the railway line. There was nothing particularly outstanding about it: Middlesbrough 3 Forest 0. Standard fare really (although I was on the edge of Stoke when I saw this and had never considered the Potteries as a particular hotbed of Teeside football support). It got me thinking that although cricket is now more popular than I can remember, it would still be pretty amazing to see cricket graffiti. Not least because it would be much more difficult to show off by bragging about a big result.

Collecting nectar like a bunch of busy bee b@stards

I’ve just joined the rest of the drones and signed up for a nectar card. So I'm seizing the opportunity to use a Pitman line.

Just for you, Ak!

What's the frequency Kennington?

Have just returned from my first jive class. I’m delighted to report that I trod on, no - count’em! you can't! – no toes. Which by my reckoning makes the night an instant success.

We began with a short introduction from our teachers, Julie and Andy. A quick glance at my class mates revealed a pretty varied mix; I wasn't the only bloke and there appeared to be a 50/50 gender split. One girl appeared to have come dressed in jive gear and her headband looked a bit like cat ears. Maybe I should put my hair in a quiff next week. Instead of putting us at ease though, I reckon most people ended up feeling more self-conscious than they already were. This was because we were told that there were deodorants in the toilets and in the past there have been a couple of occasions where people have had to be informed that they weren’t particularly fresh. I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not but instantly felt worried about my own state of underarm aroma, particularly as I’d had to jog the last bit in order to avoid being late. Nobody said anything so I think I was ok.

We then assembled ourselves into two lines, males and females, facing each other ready to begin. Over the course of the next hour and a bit we were shown some beginners steps. They weren’t given names but in order for me to remember them better I’ve christened them:

* bouncey step
* raise turn (and return)
* flat hand push turn (and return)

The class followed the pattern of the gents remaining stood in the same place, with the ladies proceeding along the line so that you changed partner every minute or so. The moves gradually came together and I reckon I had them cracked by the end. To be honest, the guys didn’t have to move much while the ladies did a couple of different spins. The lack of foot movement required by me minimised the likelihood of any toe-treading mishaps. But don’t worry ladies, that’ll come. It was impossible to judge the level of competence of the other guys but the women seemed to be a mix of beginners and one lady who evidently had some experience of the ways of dance as she kept adding her own little pirouettes. I was involved in the night's one mishap though: I was positioned quite near to a table and when practicing a raise turn (and return) my partner bumped into it and quite noisily nearly fell over. It wasn't my fault, honest.

There was a break in the middle for people to have a breather and buy a drink from the bar at ‘prices cheaper than the club night’. £2.50 for a bottle of Tiger? Wow – how will you make any money? You’re practically giving them away!

At the end of the class Julie and Andy demonstrated the moves that we’ll be covering over the next 4 weeks. I was disappointed to see that there were no throws involved but some of the steps did look fairly nifty.

Once the class has finished they play jive music for 30mins or so to let you practice your moves. As far as I could tell I was the only person to have turned up alone so while a few couples perfected their bouncey step raise turn combos, I finished off my cut-price beer and headed out into the Kennington evening.

Reading back, some of that sounds fairly cynical. It shouldn’t, I enjoyed it and am looking forward to session 2. Unrelated to jive, I was in South Pacific a few weeks back and was impressed by the attention to detail. Check out the table football players:

And to cap the night, City finally won and I spotted the Brixton limping fox very close to my house on the way home.

Advance apology to all those whose toes I tread on

The wait is nearly over....jive classes start tonight.

Here's what's in store (from my pre-course info sheet):

Lessons start at 7.30 and finish at 9. There will be 30mins of music afterwards for those who want some extra practice time. Our jive courses are aimed at the complete beginner. There are three levels:

* Beginners one

* Beginners two

* Intermediate

In each class you will be learning to dance to music from the 1940s and 1950s. Each week you be taught 2-3 moves. In each of the subsequent classes you will revise 2 moves and add one other so that you progress. The final class will be a complete revision of the moves taught in the course.

Dancing with as many people as possible improves your dancing! Students in our classes are moved around frequently so they dance and learn from each other. There will be time during the class to practice what you have been taught.

At the end of the course you can then progress to the next course or repeat the course. It's up to you!

Watch this space.....

What can I weight these important papers down with? Ah yes, a Cornish pasty!

I've just nipped out for some crisps (today: McCoy's Specials Thai Sweet Chicken) and seen something pretty odd. Holding open a window in one of the KCL buildings across from mine was a squash. You know, one of those pale brown slightly phallic vegetables. I think they're called squash. Used to prop up a window. I took a photo:

[Yeah alright Eagle Eye Cherry, I didn't have my camera on me. I took a pic on my phone but don't know how to put that up.]

How did this happen? Did someone go to the Sainsbury's Local purely to find a suitable window prop? Or were they feeling a bit stuffy in the office this morning? "This bloody window won't stay open...any books in here....does anyone have something I can wedge the window with?" "Here you go Nigel, use this squash".

Can anyone top this? Have you used something odd to hold open a window? Perhaps you made an omelette to use under a table with a wobbly leg? Or a wedge of cake as a door stop?

It's time to start a new regular feature: In Tom's Inbox:

Hoorah!

More Inbox thrills next time, folks!

A heartfelt tribute

"willis"

1) noun, anything that engenders much more of a panic that it would, were it not connected to or associated with Thomas Willis. For example: "He made a right willis of submitting his theses"

2) verb, the act of getting an individual to carry out what you yourself should be doing by calling upon the spider-silk-strong bonds of friendship connecting you to one another. For example: "Unless he willises it he'll never get it in on time"

Beautiful. Somebody phone that cheeky Coren woman from 'Balderdash and Piffle'.

Credit where it's due: Brer Akira O'Connor. A true gent.

Marvellous effort, that

Much like a red-headed stepchild, this blog has been neglected of late. Ideas haven't been seen through to completion, and entrys have been started but remain unfinished. Jive dancing kicks off (if that's the right expression) next week though so that should at least get things moving again. Celeb sightings have also slowed to a trickle (although Matt managed to spot Simon Hughes and Liam Gallagher while he was down here. Not together. Now THAT would have been a story!) but I did walk past Martin Fry from out of ABC on Oxford Street earlier today.

The real reason for writing today though is to convey my delight about welcoming back an annual visitor. Influenced by recent media coverage, you might think of cricket as a year-round non-stop cavalcade of strange hairdos and burned bails. And in many respects it is. But what I'm talking about is the return of the County Championship, and, more specifically, Fantasy Cricket. The simple buzz of getting home from school, pouring a bowl of Weetaflakes (aka Advantage/Alpen Wheat Flakes) and sitting down in front of Ceefax to check on the batting progress of Peter Bowler or the number of wickets bagged by long-term favourite Chris Lewis may now be in the past, but the pleasures of Fantasy Cricket remain. I can now wile away whole afternoons repeatedly pressing 'Refresh' on the BBC website, watching impatiently as Stuart Law edges his way towards a ton. I'm obviously never going to be anywhere near the big prizes: you need to study the minutiae of the fixture lists as well as the weather forecasts and the dates of all of the weird little cups that international players are involved in for that. Instead, I have the annual struggle between father and son to keep me entertained. There are few more satisfying sights than seeing it flash up in blocky green Ceefax pixels that Dad's star batsman/Captain has been caught for a duck (double minus points!) by my wicket keeper off the bowling of my star bowler/Captain (double points!). Although the craze for 'Fantasy' versions of stuff seems to have peaked (anyone remember the NME's attempt? You had to create a band from Britpop-era stars. God knows how the scoring worked but I remember Shaun Ryder being a superb buy for my band, Lunch Box), the flame burns just as brightly in me. Dad, good luck & here's to another exciting season!

If anyone wishes to join in the fun (and after that tribute I don't know who wouldn't), the closing date to enter in the same league as us is May 3rd. Get in touch and we can spend the summer months debating the relative merits of Bilal Shafayat and Jamie Dalrymple.

SEVEN HOURS!!!

Flicking through Time Out last night, I spotted an advert for a forthcoming event at Brixton Academy. It sounds incredible (literally). Details below. Anyone fancy coming along? Or failing that, just knock about outside to see what kind of people have bought tickets?



DAVID ICKE AT BRIXTON ACADEMY, SAT MAY 6, 2006


Who benefits from 9/11?
Who benefits from the London bombings?
Who benefits from the ‘War on terror’?

Suicide bombers? NO.
Muslim nations? NO.
The people of the West? NO.

So who does benefit? Only one group and one group alone: Anyone who wants to justify taking our freedoms away and launching a global War of slaughter and conquest.

Coincidence? No way!

So What’s Really Going On?
British author David Icke connects the dots over seven hours with hundreds of illustrations - and exposes the extraordinary truth of who and what is behind it all.

Icke has written 15 books and travelled to over 40 countries since 1990. His research exposes the Big Brother fascist dictatorship predicted by George Orwell in his epic,1984. His books reveal how a Hidden Hand is behind world-changing events like the attacks of 9/11 as part of a mass mind manipulation technique he has dubbed problem-reaction-solution - create the problem, then offer the solution.

What David Icke wrote in the 20th century has proved to be so astonishingly accurate in predicting the events of the 21st and continues to be so. This presentation over seven hours using hundreds of illustrations is simply not to be missed.

‘Freedom or Fascism? The Time to Choose’
Brixton Academy, London, UK. Saturday May 6, 2006.Presentation starts at 1pm. Doors open 12.15. Tickets are going really fast.

Call the box office on 08700 600 100 or go to www.davidicke.com where you will also find the daily stories that unravel the global scam.
See also David Icke’s unique and amazing books available from www.davidickebooks.co.uk (For the UK and Europe) and www.bridgeoflove.com (for the rest of the world).
This is a unique opportunity to discover the truth about apparantly unconnected world events and the ultimate goal for those behind them.
Enjoy a uniquely interesting and informative day at one of London’s most well-known venues.
Guaranteed to be a sell out.



wow

I wish I had a pot to piss in, I'd take it outside (RECYCLED TITLE!)

My last urine-based posting seemed to go down quite well so I thought I'd add another one.

On Friday night I'd spent an enjoyable evening with Akira, Fi and several friendly Londoners at the Club Popjustice night at Trash Palace in Soho. Several beverages were imbibed and as the night bus made it's torturously slow route back to Brixton, nature took its course and I was in increasing need of a wee.

Approximately 1 hour after I left the club, I departed the bus and headed home. My brisk walking motion made the need to micturate more pressing with every step. In the short time I've lived in these parts, I've noticed that there appears to be a pretty laissez-faire to toilet habits - within a fortnight I walked past an adolescent peeing against the wall of a shop, one Sunday afternoon. Last week I had the pleasure of witnessing a guy pissing away on the little common on the high street. This was at roughly 11am on Saturday morning.

So with these examples in mind, I did consider siphoning the python in the streets near my house. But the fear of getting mugged while distracted over-powered the biological demands of my bladder and I ploughed on home. Plus I might get arrested or something. BUT THEN! In front of me, in the middle of the pavement, was a potty! Suddenly the situation had changed and all kinds of new ideas were whizzing through my beer-addled brain: "I could wee in the potty! There's nothing wrong with that, surely? The police would turn a blind eye. And no muggers would approach me if I was sat on a potty. When did I last sit on a potty? That might actually be fun. And boy would my bladder appreciate it. It's the middle of the night, no one will know. It'll be fun. But what if I fill it and it overflows? That would make it all wrong, it might go onto my shoes or my trousers. That would make my shoes all pissy, like. I'd better head home and use a man-size toilet."

And that, readers, was probably the deciding factor. I continued past the potty, not because it would be a shameful, degrading, disgusting act of public pollution, but mainly because I was worried I might produce too much wee for it's child-sized volume to handle.

Alcohol is bad, kids. Just say no.



EDIT:
I've just realised - maybe street pottys are the place to deposit unwanted urine samples when you have missed your appointment with the doctor!

It's just the jive talkin'

Right, head above parapet time: I've just enrolled onto a Beginners jive dancing course.

Go on, laugh away. Have your fun. But you'll be smirking on the other side of your face once I've perfected my 1950s spins.

Like a London reservoir, things seem to be drying up a bit on here don't they?. So once lessons begin on the 25th April, I shall add a weekly update of my foot-tapping progress.

The classes take place at the really rather ace South London Pacific club in Kennington (www.southlondonpacific.com), and are linked to their 'Hula Boogie' club night.