An Open Letter To Skateboarding, Sealand & Mosherdrops

Last weekend saw the annual CaughtintheCrossfire.com Christmas get together hosted at the Bay66PlaystationXbox park and like most skateboarding events, I made the effort to drag myself along to drink tea on the side lines, hussle free product and scream obscenitites to all and sundry as they flew past.

Unfortunately there is something that has been bothering me for some time (and it's not a rash) and it has reached a point where I can't really ignore it anymore. Now I would be the first to admit that skateboarding is a pretty homo passtime as was ably demonstrated by the Congo Line Bum Off at Corby earlier in the year, but there is no need to make it any worse than it has to be. I am talking about skintight jeans. Someone, somewhere, probably for a laugh, suggested that it would be funny as all fuck to suggest to some impressionable spastic that skin tight jeans or manleggings as they have become make you look damn near irresistable to the opposite sex. Probably something to do with wanting to look like Donny Tourette or some other AIDS riddled junkie with a topman shirt and a wonky haircut. Evidently this is not the case. To my knowledge there is not a world wide shortage of denim so there really is no excuse to see the snug outline of someones hangdown when theyre skating. Or walking about the town for that matter. The only possible upshot of it, is that it gives me something else to shout obscenitities about from the sidelines whilst drinking my tea. This time, I was joined by Rodney Clarke who helped me compile the top 3 Fertility Threateners on show whilst also drinking tea and shouting from the sidelines.

The next few pictures should be avoided by anyone who doesnt want to see a pretty suspect array of lycra legwear... 

Honestly, I'm surprised they don't have to get the fire bridgade to cut them out of there...  It got so bad at one point that a pair of battylenders turned up all excited cause all the winkies on display through the hideously tight trousers had triggered their Gaydar... 

Rodney was on hand to help commiserate the fourth place contender who was devastated to learn he didnt get a podium finish. Look at his little face. Gutted. Still, looking on the brightside, at least he hasn't neutered himself by wearing little girls trousers. Better luck next time twinkle...

Let's all agree for 2010, plain shoes, jeans that dont display any of your reproductive organs, hats that cover your ears and I'll let you do your own things for shirts. You're welcome.

The Moshers turned up and shredded... 

and I saw Croydon's finest Dom Marley.

I met Dom a while ago when we were both contracted to go and spend a day on Sealand and write about it because Redbull have more money than sense and thought it would be a good idea to take skateboarding to a second world war seafort. Clearly, this is a pretty fucking stupid idea which is instantly obvious to anyone that isn't a total divvy. Thankfully, the PR department of Redbull is populated almost exclusively with divvies so were overjoyed to ship us out to watch a few skaters jump about on some shitty ramps and try not to fall 40ft into the North Sea. All went well until we started an argument with the German filmcrew who couldnt tell the difference between their collective arse and a hole in the floor and ended up pissing off the Redbull Marketing Machine by telling them we wanted to go home. When that didnt work we bribed a fisherman and Redbull felt so embarrassed they decided to buy us honorary titles making us Lord Marley and Lord Dickfingers of Sealand respectively and then promptly paid us a lot of money to write some bullshit about how great it all was. Unfortunately, I also wrote another less than positive article on it which aggravated matters somewhat, and left Redbull and Dickfingers Freelance Journalists on fairly sketchy ground, for all intents and purposes, shooting myself in the foot, buggering any chances I had of being shipped around to write bullshit for Redbull... You live and learn...

In other news my brand new gun licence turned up in the post so I am now a Police Certified Gun Carrier and as of tomorrow, I am off to have a look at getting myself a gun... the Olympics are only a few years away so I'm getting the practice in now. 

and it snowed

so I think we both know what happened next...

Happy Christmas and all that crap. Hope you get everything that you want. Im going to spend the festive period eating as much as is humanly possible in between shooting things and sitting down. Good times. Ill have a think about writing something better in the new year, I know that despite giving him some new shoes, TobyBrock is pretty bummed on the deteriorating quality of this here blog so I am going to do my utmost to make sure it's nothing short of bloody tops for 2010... 

Over and out until the new year...

A Christmas Shrub, Shooting, Lunchbreak and Torture...

And I'm back... Brock, you can piss off, this blog isn't dropping off, how very dare you. I'm pleased to report that after the last time we have reached the giddying heights of 14 vaguely interested fans. Well done people, I'm very proud of you all for finally recognising the merits of reading about the random shit that I have been getting up to and you should all be very happy that you have helped me become 15% betterer than Jesus... I couldn't have done it without you. Give yourselves a pat on the back and hang in there: you're awesome

As you will probably be aware, Christmas is creeping ever closer and that means that I have recently had to set aside a day to decorate Dickfingers HQ and by "set aside a day" I mean "start decorating in between checking the internet, drinking tea and playing xbox until Mrs Dickfingers gets the hump and finishes it herself." Mrs Dickfingers hates this time of year as it is also an excuse for me to move Hank into a more prominent position. 

This is Hank. 

Hank is my Christmas Owl. I bought him 2 years ago after seeing him whilst skulking around a Garden Centre looking at decorations. I thought he was amazing 2 years ago and I have not changed my mind in the time since. The same could be said for the lovely Mrs Dickfingers: she's been dead against him from the start and I was told in no uncertain terms that I was forbidden to buy him which with 2 years of hindsight, probably wasn't the best thing to say. Hank can be seen above in his Christmas hat. Obviously this is what he wears for the Christmas Season and you and everyone else would assume that he would be put away after the Christmas period has expired. However I am stubborn. Stubborn and stupid. And stubborn and stupid is a pretty fatal combination when trying to argue your case without sounding like a spoilt child, so much so, that I decided not to put him away until next Christmas. Instead I came up with a better, alternative idea: pop a little Summer hat on him and let him wear that for 11 months until Christmas rolls around again and he can take pride of place next to the other decorations. Suffice it to say, like so many of my additions to the interior decoration of Dickfingers HQ: Mrs Dickfingers hates it and I am forever left wondering, not only how I managed to keep a girlfriend as tolerant to my shit as she undoubtedly is but more surprisingly how I managed to convince her going out with me would be a good idea in the first place. If anyone knows why I feel the neverending urge to wind her up so much please let me know as I'd love to hear other theories... 

Fast forward to today when we found ourselves at the very same Garden Centre, looking at decorations when Mrs Dickfingers uttered the challenge "...and don't even think about buying another stupid bloody owl..." and before you know it, Dickfingers HQ welcomes Esteban, the Snow Owl and I am right back wondering why I must continually push my luck... 

I would like to say that this will be the last Owl addition to Headquarters but that really depends on whether or not I squabble with Mrs Dickfingers within range of a Garden Centre and decide to spend £2.49 that could jeopardise my relationship and living arrangements... Time will tell and you'll be the first to know.

I would like to take the time to say that this is not a one sided arrangement and I don't spend my time dictating to Mrs Dickfingers what is and isn't going to be happening in our lovely little flat. Take our Christmas tree for example... For the last few years we have had a fairly respectable fake tree that stood in the corner of the room and as far as I was concerned did the job perfectly. In a casual throwaway conversation the subject of this years Christmas Tree was raised and I quickly vetoed the idea of a real tree on the grounds of it being too much hassle to clear up afterwards having spent 6 months at my previous flat carefully removing pineneedles from the underside of my feet. Thinking this was the end of it (my first mistake) I gave the idea no further thought until I received a phonecall from Mrs Dickfingers telling me that she had got a new tree. A "real" one. 

Assuming the worst, I expected a shitting massive great thing with millions of pointy little spears just waiting to find their way into my naked feet. What I didnt expect, was Stumpy.

Now, noone wants to hear "size isnt everything" but when you have to put 3/4 of your decorations back in the loft because the tree isn't strong enough to support them, you really need to reevalulate but I'm pretty sure that Stephen Hawking's legs are stronger than our tree. Next year I have stipulated that if we are having a real one, and something tells me that we probably will, then we're getting a decent sized one. Although saying that Stumpy is still growing so there may be an update in a years time to let you know how far we've come... 

In other news, I am still in the process of getting my Shotgun Licence and have a meeting this week to convince the fine folk of the Bedfordshire Police that I am not a psycho and/or an irresponsible spastic. Obviously this pretty powerful blog, as awesome as it is, and the Dickfingers Collection of Fine Art (or has others have quite astutely dubbed it: a load of pictures with dicks on em...) will be hidden until the Police are well up the road but I think that providing I remember to put trousers on and not talk about how great that bit in Rambo is when he peels that guy with the minigun, there's very little that can go wrong... Hopefully...

I think I should end this post with some videos so please find below what could well be the best examples of getting mugged off. One shows how to do it yourself, the other is assisted. The first features Ben Cundall and the other victim is Dibble. Both of these are amazing for very different reasons but I am stoked on both of them so thought I would share them and urge you to hang out with either of these guys as you will not be disappointed. 

More Skateboarding >>

Thats it for today, I might change the format for the next update depending on your response: Post a comment on whatever topics you would like to feature on here and I will carry out an investigative type report and get back to you. Maybe. In all likelihood, I'll get bored and pretend this never happened... We'll see.  

Before I forget: if any of you work or have relatives that work for Apple, some lightfingered theiving nabbing bastard has stolen my Ipod touch... so... er... its Christmas and I'd like another one. I'll wait to hear back from you real soon so I can send you my delivery address. That'd be super.