The Boring Updates of BDF

www.Writerstailblock.com

2011-05-29T17:33:00.003+01:00

Dear Readers,

I am sorry that I have not been updating the blog.

The reason for that is that I have been busy updating my other site which you can visit for your amusement.

http://www.writerstailblock.com

Please have a look at it so our stats go up and we can convince other people to sponsor us.

That is all.

Thanks

Dickfingers

Barbeques Consolidated Skateboarding and Piss...

2010-05-18T22:29:00.007+01:00

I'm sorry to disappoint you blogfans, but this is going to be a very brief update in my otherwise fascinating day to day life due in no small part to the fact that I am knackered and have been really busy. That might sound like you're in for a bonanza bumper edition update but in reality I'm just tired so I can't be bothered. Sorry. I'll be sure to try harder next time...

In my defense, my previous mentioned sideproject is nearing its launch so if any of you wonderful people have unlimited interwebs access you should definitely log onto that there facebook and like writerstailblock.com which is totally and definitely going to rule.

Anyway, enough about that, I'll be pushing this harder than is probably wise in good time so you'll hear plenty about it soon enough...

This weekend saw the arrival of the Consolidated Team who stopped at Saffron Walden for the only English stop off in their European Tour and seeing as Saffron Walden is only about half an hour away I thought that it would be rude not to turn up and stand around watching. Especially as Zorlac phoned me up earlier in the week to say that he was sorting it out and that he was going to put on a barbeque. And everyone loves barbeques.

What I didn't realise at the time was that when he said "I'm doing a barbeque" he actually meant "you're going to be doing a barbeque..." For everyone...

Here I am cooking a load of mystery meat for a load of skateboarding people ably assisted by Leticia from Consolidated. If you got the shits and you think it was from something you ate at the weekend, it was definitely something she cooked and nothing, nothing at all to do with me.

Zorlac checked in on the systematic charcoaling of meat discs then left me to get on with it.

Steak brought some Steak. Look how stoked he is.

Toby came down from Derby long enough to tell me how shit this blog is (sorry mate) then made me pose like a gladiator with my barbeque shield.

Cundall showed up and treated all the females and gays in the vacinity to a treat the likes of which they won't have ever seen by taking his shirt off and displaying his frankly jawdropping physique and dicktingling collection of home made body art improvements.

Dont you wish your girlfriend was hot like this?

Popeye...

The excitement of the day got too much so he had to nip behind a shed for a little wee wee with a shirt on his head as a disguise.

Fraser, who incidently, still isnt my son, came down from Derby with Toby and Mrs Toby, to check out the skate demo. As previously mentioned though, 50% of all skateboarding is sitting around in carparks either talking about, or waiting for skateboarding to start. As for the rest 10% is actually skateboarding and the rest is just weed, cobras and tigers...

I am reviving the frankly slept on combo of Pombears and Lucozade which is the perfect antidote to hangovers and slightly unsettled stomachs from eating partially defrosted sausages and burgers cremated on the outside and raw in the middle.

Mrs Toby bought him a magazine that had this frankly amazing double page spread of various animals bumming each other. If you'll remember, I wrote an animal blog about them bumming each other months ago so I am officially ahead of the journalistic curve. Mark my words, in a few months, everyone'll be banging on about cream teas, laybacks and barbeques...

Fraser got inspired by the magazine and convinced Cundall to give him a gobble.

Then Cundall pissed himself when he saw...

...my new trick. Which doesn't involve putting a hand down on the coping. In even more mystifying news, I have managed to learn a new flip trick. Footage soon, depending on whether or not My Mate Adam has taken it off his camera. If he has, then you'll just have to take my word for it because I'm not 100% I can do another one...

Oh and I got a new job by the way. Its smashing and I'm having a lovely time.

Not sure what the next ones going to be about but it'll probably be awesome and could well be about Delores, who came back and banged out a couple of eggs so we're due some scrawny ratchicks any day now...

Until next time...

European Exploration and a Relic from my Youth...

2010-04-19T20:55:00.012+01:00

As avid blog fans will know by now, there is a list of things that I would rather do than be at my soulcripplingly shit job and it is a very very long list that covers various unhappy things including getting kicked in the pants and listening to Scouting for Girls but occasionally, when not inflicting groin achingly severe alternatives to sitting in a reclining chair pretending to be busy, I can actually do something pleasant to avoid sitting in the employ of a fat middle aged window licker with a speech impediment.

Like going to Belgium.

Belgium is nestled right between France, Germany and that other place with all the hookers, dank and crusty hippies sitting in coffee shops . Unfortunately to get there you have to get up stupidly early in the morning to get on a train.

After an obscenely early morning, its almost essential that you buy a coffee at the earliest opportunity and then spend the next few hours wondering what you would be doing "if you were at work" before moaning about how tired you are.

All this is quickly forgotten when you get to Belgium as, like most European cities with remarkably more liberal views on pretty much everything, there are loads of distractions. Like filthy streetwalking prostitutes...

This might look like any ordinary Belgium Street, and in many respects you would be right to assume that, however if you look particularly closely at the wall right in the centre of the shot you can see a hooker. More specifically her leg. Thats a hooker leg. I would have got more of her but I couldnt get the camera out in time and Mrs Dickfingers told me it was bad form to chase after her because although she was wearing Hooker Boots and looked like she'd been rogered more times than a policeman's radio, there might be a chance that she wasn't a hooker and was just really fond of waiting on street corners. But she definitely was a hooker. I'm almost certain.

They also have better unhealthy snacks. Like chocolatey waffles.

Unfortunately they make you feel a bit grim after a couple so I tried my best to limit myself to one a day...

One of the other bonuses of going abroad is being able to giggle like a spaz in a sweetshop at words that are completely innocuous to 99% of the people around. A glowing example of this can be found in the Dutch word for cream. Cream is added to quite a lot of things in Belgium which gave me ample opportunity to snigger at "Slagroom" on every menu we strolled past.

I would like to pretend that Slagroom was the only thing that amused me but I would be lying. I also found a skateshop with one of the best names of anything Dutch or otherwise:

and got a bit pissed off that my GP isn't called Patrick Sweetlove...

However it would be a disservice to Antwerp if I were to flippantly dismiss it as nothing more than the home of Patrick Sweetlove and Harry Beaver. It is also full of old shit, some of which you can climb on.

This is a statue of some naked guy that fucked up a giant who was charging people to cross a river. Apparently if you didn't pay the Giant he would cut your hands off. This nudist lad turned up and decided that he wasn't going to take any shit from the lanky bastard so lopped the Giants hand off instead. Then he threw it in the river. Im not really sure what the Giant expected to happen. Im not really sure why the Giant didn't step on him. Or kick him in the balls. He was a giant after all. If I was a giant I wouldn't take any shit from normal people, naked or otherwise. I guess it would be like answering the door and seeing a midget on the otherside standing there in the nip. As if that wouldn't freak you out enough, imagine if he jumps up and lops your hand off... You'd be livid wouldn't you? Exactly. I sometimes think we ran out of Giants before we ran out of really good stories involving Giants...

Incredibly, the handless Giant isn't by any means the best Giant statue in Antwerp. Far from it. Theres this one too.

Now, I'm no Giant expert, far from it, but I would say that in my humble opinion, this appears to be a Giant with two small people staring at his pants.

Just to be sure I took a picture from almost every angle and it doesn't stop being awesome.

It just keeps getting better...

This is a picture of me at the opera. Admittedly the tickets were free and I didn't understand a bloody word of it as they were singing in Russian with Dutch subtitles and my understanding of either of the languages stumbles somewhere after "hello" and "can I have a beer please" but it was free so I needed it and it was a thoroughly cultured and entertaining evening to befit my time in such a cultured and entertaining city.

The following day we went to Ruebenshaus or Ruebens House as its known in English. Ruebens painted fat lasses with their thri'pennies out. He loved the tubbies. Unfortunately the stroppy little woman in the house said I wasn't allowed to take photos inside the house just as I was about to take a picture of a fat lass with her thri'pennies out and I didn't want to piss her off as she was little and I was worried she might mistake me for a giant and cut my hand off.

Belgium is famous for beer so I thought it would be culturally insensitive of me not to drink plenty of it. The problem with that otherwise flawless plan is that after about 3 you forget whats going on as they're basically fortified wines made by sadistic Belgium monks so any more than 4 and the world pretty much comes to an end and you stand quite a good chance of letting a little bit of wee and sick out. Maybe even at the same time.

Its quite pretty though, despite the freakish ginger children they try to bury in chocolate.

They also eat horses out there but Mrs Dickfingers wasn't overly keen on the idea of me wasting money scurrying around trying to find somewhere that I could buy and eat Shergar so we settled on a compromise of tracking it down and eating it in France later. Either way, the thin legged delicious hooved bastards have got it coming... mark my words.

In other news. SPT is a cock end for swearing at this righteous BDF mini.

and contrary to popular belief, White Dog Shit is no longer a thing of the past and I found some whilst out for a walk. I would like to point out that I wasn't out on a walk looking for white dog shit, but it was definitely a lovely surprise when I found it.

My totally incredible and definitely rad side project is nearing completion so expect an update about that soon by which time I could be the owner of a sleeping bag suit and potentially a new job. If the former happens, expect pictures, if the latter happens expect 3 years of built up frustration and bitchy comments to come flooding out like piss from a kidney... or something that comes out of something else quickly. Graham Norton and a cupboard? Spunk and Jordan? You get the idea...

Until next time...x

Another Fine Day Out and the Revival of the Dickfingers Wildlife Programme...

2010-04-03T10:52:00.011+01:00

Before we start I would like to say hello to all the disciples. Hello. I realised to my horror that I had lost one of you the other day so I didn't want to make it seem like I'm taking you for granted, I'm not, you're tops. Anyway, my frustration was shortlived as Former no 16 was quickly replaced so all is right with everything again and we can turn our back on Judas for ever more...

After a somewhat slow start to the year, based on my general lethargy, shit weather, a soul crippling job and a soon to be announced sideproject monopolizing a large portion of my already hectic schedule, there hasn't been a lot of time for me to get out and about and take photos of stupid things to write about on here. Maybe thats why "Judas" bailed, who knows? But to try and rectify this situation, Mrs Dickfingers, announced that we were spending Good Friday, walking around a musuem. After my initial trepidation at the thought of marching around endless corridors filled with old pottery and fountain pens, it turned out that the wonderful Mrs Dickfingers, knowing me as well as she does, had picked The Natural History Museum in Tring, which also happens to be one of the largest collections of Taxidermy open to the public. I could only have been more stoked if it was a Half Cab Exhibition. So packing my camera and fixing a grin on my face that wouldnt be out of place on a Sunshine Bus, we embarked on what I later discovered to be the Best Place In The World For Fans Of Stuffed Critters...

To give a brief overview of the Natural History Musuem in Tring, it was founded by some old chap called Rothschild who deftly avoided being classified as mental by "having a load of money" which allowed him to settle on "eccentric." So he poured a large portion of his not meagre fortune into cataloging the various weird and retarded creatures from the various far flung reaches of the world. He did this by peeling them and stuffing them with sawdust or something so that 100 years later I could scamper around like a window licker taking more photos than is probably wise while the missus walked 10 steps behind shaking her head...

Blogfans would probably recognise, correctly, that as impressive as "normal" creatures are, there's a special charm in the less than attractive, overlooked creatures that some mythical skyfairy allegedly decided to put together in a week before he had a sit down. As amazing as they are when they're alive and wandering around and humping each other, they're definitely definitely far better when someone has stuffed them and the only thing that beats that is when they've been stuffed by someone who has clearly never seen what the actual animal should look like.

Im pretty sure that these were in the category "Creatures Made From The Spares We Had Lying Around"

Look how stoked he looks...

This is called an Aye Aye. No shit. I think a Yorkshireman discovered them and to be fair, its probably not the worst looking thing to ever come out of Yorkshire...

The Long Tailed Ken Dodd Monkey...

I have absolutely no idea what the hell this is but I'm stoked on it nonetheless...

Some Bonkeyed Puffins...

The Manhead Crane... Look at the size of its Dome, its almost too heavy for its little neck. Massive.

A very startled owl.

Apparently if you get Monkeys really really stoned they're easier to peel...

If your sole occupation is peeling and mounting dead creatures for some rich bloke you'd probably have to get your kicks where you could so I would imagine that poking a little fish out of a bigger fish's mouth would get a right laugh from the Victorian genteel folk...

This is a Witch. Fuck knows why they had to have so many witchhunts back in the day, surely you'd be able to spot one of these in New England? There can't have been that many about...

A Toby Fish. I sent a picture of this to Toby and his reply was "did you shoot that?" Im not sure he was impressed at having his own fish. I would be stoked as hell if someone emailed me a picture of fish named after me. Whenever you lot are ready, Ill be happy to look through Fish Submissions...

Nature is disgusting. I cannot for the life of me work out why they would let anyone display a Mingesponge in public view. There wasn't even a sign to warn children there was a Mingesponge in the next cabinet. If I was a parent I'd rather not have to explain to my progeny about Minges or Sponges in the same sentence... although saying that I did spend a few minutes looking around in the hope that I could find a Dicksponge to laugh about as well...

I gave up the search for a dicksponge when I got distracted by this absolutely massive crab. Its legspan was something like 3 meters from end to end. Anything with that many long legs should be hit with a shovel, standard. If its got four times as many legs as eyes it shouldn't be trusted and should be shovelled as an immediate precaution... Same thing goes for moths. I fucking hate moths.

Manatees on the other hand are awesome. I saw a programme about a guy in Florida who drove down to the Keys every day to stand out on a jetty with a stiff haired broom and sweep the crap off of the back of the manatees. They loved it. Any creature that is so lazy that it will voluntarily swim out to something that could almost definitely kill and eat it, just so that it doesn't have to clean itself is something that I can support.

I'm not sure how lazy Elephant Seals are but they're huge and they look funny so I like them too, although if I had to guess I would suggest that anything weighing in at the Tonne mark would more than likely be a bit sluggish...

Wherever possible they try to display the animals in representations of their natural habitats so that we can get a really good idea of what they would have looked like before someone peeled them and stuffed them with sawdust.

This is a still life shot of the Bulbous Nosed Shelf Deer that perches quietly in the corner of rooms looking quite pleased with itself.

While the Sabre Toothed Rabid Deer looks like it might pretty much kill everything else in the world

A couple of Gay Kangaroos staring at each other's balls. Dirty Gay Kangaroos.

I found the creature that a large number of muppets must have been modelled on

Then found the cafe for the first cream tea of the year which was lovely despite the confused woman behind the counter trying to charge us for the same coffee three times.

In other news, the little feral bastards of Stotfold, not content with keying my car and stealing our bikes, decided that they'd pass the time with that friendly fun filled time passer: arson.

Nothing says Saturday evening fun like torching a transit van and shouting from a safe distance at the "cunts ruining it" or "firemen" as they're otherwise known.

Just to balance out the otherwise totally animal friendly blog, I went and shot a couple. Apparently though its quite difficult to peel and stuff your own museum when all you have are two moody wood pigeons so I decided to eat them instead. Except they were a bit fierce by this point so I threw them away, but the intention was there.

Next time: I'm continuing the theme of day trips and fun times and am going to Brussels with Mrs Dickfingers for a cultural investigation that ticks all the boxes: beer, waffles and me not being at work. Expect a thrilling international update soon when I may or may not have sorted my exciting side project out enough to actually explain what it is... I may also have sent an email to the lovely people at www.lippiselkbag.com who may or may not have sent me a lovely sleeping bag suit. I've already checked and I'm on the first page of Google so only time will tell...

Until next time...

World Exclusive Premiere, A Guide to World Peace and The Long Awaited Return...

2010-03-13T17:00:00.010Z

I knew it was only a matter of time but after a few short years and only a couple of thousand emails and forum posts, I, and by extension everyone that is living vicariously through this shit hot blog (so that would be you lovely readers), got invited to something. This monumentous occasion happened to be the first ever Vans video, a company that I am totally bent for anyway so it was a pretty foregone conclusion that I would be turning up to lurk, bro-down and see if there was any free stuff knocking about in equal measure...

As I was retardedly excited at the prospect of being able to do something to allow me to avoid the crippling horror of another fucking minute at work, I decided to make the most of the day so arranged to meet Cockleg and Poosink at Mile End skatepark. The plan was to maximise the time available and all make the most of our surroundings. To Cockleg and Poosink, this meant jump around on skateboards doing tricks, where as I took the slightly more sensible alternative and stood around drinking street beers in between stealing goes on their boards when they weren't looking. This was a much better decision on my part as it meant that more I drank, the less I had to carry and I wouldnt have to worry about leaving my skateboard somewhere when I got appallingly rat-arsed later in the evening. This freed up a lot of time to stand around clutching my carrier bag full of Red Stripe taking blurry pictures of Cockleg skating the moody bowl in front of Vicki Pollard and the obligatory angry looking dog in a skatepark. Youre welcome.

Poosink took advantage of not being at nursery school or the childminders or whatever it is he does all day to play a nail biting edge-of-the-seat game of Head Shoulders Knees & Toes (Knees & Toes.) Then he had some warm milk and went for a lie down before he got overexcited...

Fellow flame haired plaid fan, Jerome from Shiner made the trip up from Bristol or Newport or somewhere like that to watch the film and have his picture taken in front of a great big sign only to turn up on here which surely justifies the 6 hour round trip...

As if that wasn't awesome enough we bowed down to some subliminal messaging and went for a Chinese Buffet at the imaginatively named "Chinese Buffet" in Soho. Cockleg decided to pretend that the Prawns were trying to crawl into my ear while the Sidewalk Forums very own shouty letter answerer, Joe BEAR Habgood, swears uncharacteristically quietly in the background, shortly before paying for the most expensive glass of coke known to man.

We retired to a bar on the Corner where Ben Powell, editor of Sidewalk Skateboarding took time out of his fully booked evening job as Fran Healy's body double, to educate me on the various different meanings of red shoe laces. According to his theory, I'm either a devastatingly hard cunt or a colour coordinated mincer, I couldn't decide so I'll leave it to the comments for you to argue amongst yourselves...

Surprising everyone, rotund Barbeque enthusiast, Head Boss of Vans and all round thoroughly nice chap, Steve Van Doren turned up against all expectations and gave a totally motivating and entertaining introduction to the film. Unfortunately he didn't fire up the grill and get round to cooking a selection of delicious treats for the fans... Keen blog followers will remember my pretty truimphant turn on the Vans Waffle stall at the UK Champs this year which on balance, proves that I do more than Steve Van Doren... Well done Steve... Nice one.

Skate Premiers are the exact opposite to normal films, you go to a cinema with a load of other dudes, drink beer, and shout at the screen while throwing popcorn, skittles and if Habgood is there, pretty much anything he can get his hands on. The only thing stopping him carrying in the moody sweet and sour king prawns from the China Buffet was a lack of pocket space. I took time out of shouting at the screen and calling everyone in range a mosher or a homo to take a blurry pissed photo of the screen to really give you a feeling of what you missed...

Poosink was amazed at the thriving London hipster Fixie which is flourishing due to the almost limitless supply of jazzy clothed gaylords in London.

One half of Jedward turned up and was gutted Powley wouldn't give him a ticket so sat outside crying and wishing he had a fixie...

After the excitement of heading into this nations wonderful capitol, I had to return back to normal life. Fortunately for you, my normal life involves taking the piss out of things and posting about them on the internet to make myself feel better. Occasionally I worry about running out of things to take the piss out of which would surely result in me having to think about interesting and pleasant things to write about on here. That was until I discovered Mrs Dickfingers' kids marking. Mrs Dickfingers is a teacher (I'm not going to say where) and from time to time she gets so overwhelmed with marking that she passes it over to me to do. Payment for this is allowing me to take photos of the particularly special ones so that I can chuckle at them later:

"I allway think about one thing. why can't all the people live in the whole world with out names and no arquements and wars just live all toghether looking after each other !?" as sentiment I think we can all get behind...

One final thing before I draw this thrilling update to a close. Nearly a year after her departure my Prodigal Homing Satellite Dove V2, Dolores, has returned to case out her nest, presumably in preparation for getting fertilised and plopping out a couple more ugly ratty chicks.

I'll keep you updated with news as soon as she settles down and squeezes anything out. You'll be the first to know, I promise.

Next time: what I get up to in Brussels where I will be going for a cultural exploration...

War Of The Roses, Kung Fu & Porno...

2010-02-23T20:44:00.015Z

Yet another skateboarding related update and by "skateboarding related" I mean, taking photos of all of the shit that happens at skateboarding events except the actual act of skateboarding itself, which I think you'll find is actually way better anyway.

Last weekend saw the War Of The Roses, the annual Yorkshire vs Lancashire shindig that has been running for the last 5 years. It started out as an idea Silent Will had to get a load of skaters from Yorkshire & Lancashire together in a park in each county and having a skate jam for money but unfortunately the idea caught on so other folk from the rest of the country started to make the trip too. Unfortunately for me, I do not live in either Yorkshire or Lancashire. I live at the other end of the country, the southern bit, where shandies flow freely and men aren't frowned at for wearing coats when it snows, so getting to Yorkshire and Lancashire is a right fucking ballache...

After deliberating and waiting in vain for someone else to offer to drive me up there so I could have a quiet 3 hour catnap in the passenger seat, I picked up Cockleg, who since his last blog appearance has ventured out into the big bad world of university. While he is there wasting my hard earned tax money, he enjoys getting into fights and getting stabbed with house keys and is doing his level best to burn through his student load as quickly as he can by spending as much money as humanly possible on Stripclub Specials, Jeremy Clarkson outfits and experimental treatments to stop his legs looking like pornstar cocks in the hope that I'll stop calling him Cockleg. Poor Cockleg.

Nantwich's premier Nicholas Cage impersonator, Grosa also made the effort, as did Brighton's preeminent hairy freestyler, Mr Darren Nolan, who gave me a Heel Toe Magic hat in a transparent attempt to bribe me into driving him up there... Fortunately, keen eyed readers will notice I fucking love hats so it worked. Bribery is awesome. Plus he kind of looks how you would think the Ultimate Warrior would look if he was only 15 and didn't bosch a load of steroids and hoover up a load of coke, so I didn't want to wind him up incase he went mental and tried to suplex me or something... In case any of you don't believe me I have photographic proof just to strengthen my claim...

Uncanny. I decided to get all the skateboarding in the weekend out of the way in one fell swoop so had a game of skate in the carpark with Ronny and Cundall. There was footage of it but Rich aka Voodoo of t'forum decided that it was far too ~~shit~~ gnarly so deleted it off the face of the internets. Which is probably for the best... Rest assured I was throwing down some preeeetty tidy maneuvers

Ron looked excited and Cundall just looked confused.

This dude wandered down from Newcastle with some kneepads, writstguards and a home made tshirt to stand next to Powley and throw the horns. Powley really does love Mosher Drops, but then again, who doesn't?

This is Porno Paul. Here he is, inexplicably reading some kind of Mother & Baby Magazine. God only knows how that could ever end up in a skatepark but it definitely was and Porno was loving it. I can't work out what was more disturbing: the weird naked baby centrefold lying back on a bed of lego or how funny Porno found it...

It was only a matter of time until it went a step too far...

After we had finished defacing Parenting Magazines with some borderline content and improvised glory holes, Porno and I decided to play our game. It doesn't have a name although I am angling for "The PornoDickfingers Stroking Game" and the rules are very very simple. When someone walks past you, whoevers turn it is, has to stroke them (strength of contact is variable although anything that veers towards heavy petting might draw attention). Once you have successfully stroked your target, it is your opponents turn and they have to stroke the next person, regardless of who they are. This repeats until one player gives up and decides not to stroke the next person. The winner is the person that doesn't bottle it at the last minute. Think of it like Chicken but with people that don't know they're playing. Its best played in crowds. If it takes off we can have a championship. I'll keep you all posted although I should warn you that Porno does have a real aptitude for this game which coupled with a pathological desire to touch people is pretty awe inspiring to behold...

Action Shot

Sooner or later though unless you have a conveyor belt of new targets, you will run out of people to touch and sure enough, we did, so had no option but to turn back to the Premier Travel Lodge Tavern to ditch our gear and wash our balls (individually, its not a team sport) before heading out the afterparty, which is pretty much the main reason that people go to these things anyway... The only problem is, that as soon as you put a number of unattended skaters in a hotel room hundreds of miles away from home, its only a matter of time before they start bouncing off the ceiling like a kid giddy on lemonade...

Sure enough, Cockleg didn't fail to deliver, and precisely 15 seconds after unlocking the door and turning the telly on, proceeded to jump up and down on the bed at a breakneck pace and kick out like a retarded caucasian Bruce Lee in a ropey wolfshirt...

When the appeal of ~~beating off~~ fighting off a hoarde of imaginary angry baddies had faded, Cockleg, Grosa and The Ultimate Nolan proceeded to make an assault obstacle course in the bedroom before we all went downstairs and had burgers for our tea...

Cockleg was stoked that he would get a chance to wear his Jeremy Clarkson costume of chinos and a sensible shirt and confused a group of young lads who mistakenly thought that he was their dad come early to pick them up... Look how sensible he looks. Grosa was too busy concentrating on squinting at the bottom of his glass on the off chance that it might refill itself to pose for this picture but he was later heard to say how sensible Matt looked and expressed his surprise that such a nice looking young man would spend £130 on Special Dances at Legs Akimbo Lapdancing in Skegness...

The Clarkson outfit soon paid off when Su Pollard took her geggs off long enough to try and woo him...

Its not immediately clear what is happening here but the guy that looks like he is french kissing his own hand is a Silvergult, which to anyone frequenting the Sidewalk Forum should be explanation enough, who spent a good 5 minutes doing a deeply erotic and pretty sensual dance entirely on his own much to the disgust of the weird trendy birds that were already in the bar trying to ignore the 50 odd skaters that descended like a sweaty plaid covered plague...

Some other shit happened, Smedley gave it 150% on the dancefloor as usual and did a few righteous headspins before the almost entirely white population of the skateboarding afterparty entourage forgot that we weren't born in South Central LA or Queens and started bobbing around at the very slightest hint of HippyHop... We're so urban and that... I didn't take any more photos because I was busy drinking. It was tops.

The following morning we discovered that it had snowed a good 6 inches overnight and Powley thought that it would be the best time to unveil his pretty incredible sleeping bag suit which has spurned me into action and I am now in the process of trying to blag one for myself. If by some remote chance anyone from www.Lippiselkbag.com is reading this then get in touch. I'll promote the shit out of it for you, I promise.

We (and by "we" I mean "I") drove to Blackpool, hung out with Big Woody who runs Rampcity and ate chilliburgers which are a pretty efficient way of purging almost every liquid from your body at the same time.

Thats about it, I saw some other people, some other people saw me, some guys jumped around on skateboards and then everyone had to go home. I spent a long long time driving and spent the following day laying about in either the bath or in bed. It was pretty triumphant.

More updates coming soon, I saw Delores the prodigal dove return and case out the nest so there may well be some Satellite Dove updates in the pipelines... I'll keep you posted.

Megaramps, Clay Shooting and Backroom Additions...

2010-02-02T22:14:00.008Z

Right, I've stayed true to my word, more or less, and have actually ventured out of the flat long enough to try and compose an interesting day out that you might want to read about from the comforts of wherever you might be...

After getting myself armed, you'd be surprised how many people ask to go and shoot things, so partly because it's fun as shit and partly because I'm a totally awesome kind of guy, I agreed to take a selection of folk including Toby, My Mate Adam and Dan Cates, pro skater and pisstaker extraordinairre, to go shoot at things. Unfortunately, trying to organise skaters at the best of times is about as much fun as herding cats, and as I was trying to organise a hung over rabble from as far afield as Derby & Harrow it slowly dawned on me that the day was unlikely to run like a swiss fucking watch.

To his eternal credit, Cates defied all expectations and actually turned up, so our fun day out in the country shooting things could begin, like all good things, with a nice cup of tea.

After the essentials were handled, we set about shooting things, in Cates' case with some minor concerns for his own personal safety. To be fair these concerns were probably unfounded as he managed to go almost all day without shooting anything at all, although it generally helps if you look in the same direction that you are pointing the gun in if you want to actually hit something...

At the very least he managed to deftly avoid the look that I unfortunately stumbled into which I would say falls neatly into the Countryside-Care-In-The-Community-Case-Study category

but at the very least I managed to look and shoot in the same direction at the same time which is definitely the first step to actually hitting something.

Cates was so stoked on his countryside day out and nearly shooting a load of clays that he gave me a board which is now hanging, surprisingly, in the back room, due in no small part to the fact that it has the words "Dickfingers" "Asshole" and a small boy bending over on it...

In other news, I found a decoy to stop the keyweilding little shits that roam around my village scratching the buggery out of cars. That'll show the pubeless tracksuit wearing cunts...

I was also delighted to have discovered the Dickfingers Mega Transfer Gap.

I've still got to iron a couple of kinks out with the transition but I'm thinking 2010 is going to be the year of the homemade outdoor megaramps... You heard it here first.

Right, as fascinating as this has been, all mildly narcissistic selfimportant things must come to an end and I've run out of pictures. I did spend the other night letting off £40 worth of fireworks in My Mate Adam's garden but didn't have the foresight to take my camera but rest assured it was pretty aweinspiring...

I'm still open to suggestions for what to include in the next update, partly because I think it will be nice to get some audience participation although mainly it's because it saves me thinking of something. Matt Mofuggacockleg has frequently promised to send through some interesting topics for debate but apparently thinks that stealing his flatmates multipack bags of Freddo's and complaining about things far and wide on the Sidewalk Forum is far more important than entertaining you.

Something else might happen soon so there's always the chance that I'll go to it and take photos... If you comment it will probably convince me that there are people actually reading this bloody thing and it might spur me on to write something half decent. Don't hold your breath though...

Skyrape, Crying Angels, Mullets & How To Stuff A Pufferfish...

2010-01-25T18:53:00.013Z

Happy New Year followers and welcome to the first post in what will hopefully be a full year of blogging. Inexplicably, despite the month long hiatus which has been spent pretty solidly sitting down doing nothing, I have managed to build on the ever increasing momentum of this pretty triumphant blog and reach the giddy heights of 16 followers. After some fairly rapid mental arithmatic, I have worked out that based on "the Bible" I am, at the time of writing, 7 years younger than Jesus, yet have 4 more disciples, which means that if we get into a league type situation I will have the advantage of being able to choose substitutes. Which is always a nice thought should there ever be a league for blogbased disciple fights... Gimme 2000 years and I may well have my very own church. We can but hope.

Following on from my earlier comment that I have been sitting around doing nothing (and I'm not joking, I've pretty much done fuck all apart from shoot things and eat other things since the last post) I've decided that its hightime for another retrospective trawl through my harddrive to uncover something that might be vaguely interesting for me to write about... Unfortunately this is all I could come up with... If you don't like it, tough, you'll have to wait until the weather's not so shit for me to get out and start doing something a bit more interesting... so brace yourself for another wander into the Dickfingers Archive...

As some of you may know, a few years ago, I spent a good three months taking time out of my busy schedule of bumming about in England to fly to America and bum about over there. My reasons were pretty straight forward: its hotter and the portions are bigger. Add to that I wouldn't have to learn another language and as I wasn't keen on the idea of accidently eating dog I opted against the Orient and went to 'Merkka instead...

While in that fine and proud land, I decided that it was going to be a good idea to get all the things that I had been wanting to do for years out of the way in one fell swoop and skydiving was definitely top of the list. Bearing this in mind, when we rolled through to Vegas, I concluded that there probably wouldn't be a better time to do it. Up we went, out of the plane we jumped and photos were taken to mark the occasion. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to me as I was plummeting groundwards at terminal velocity, the instructor, who I can only assume was bored with jumping out of a plane for the tenth time that day, decided to spice up the picture with what I can only guess to be a joke. Quite how funny it is to pretend to be thumbing in a softie at at 10000ft remains to be seen, however I have to conclude that it is a joke as the alternative is to accept that I narrowly avoided being the first person to be raped in the sky...

Other stuff happened, but I was there for 3 months and some light fingered gobshite stole my camera in LA just before I flew home, most of the pictures I do have are someone elses with me in the background so you'll have to make do with Skyrape for now... Anyway, I came back (obviously) and as I wasn't in any particular rush to start work, I carried on bumming about over here... Toby "Formerly The Brock" Batchelor (who incidently doesnt want to be known as The Brock anymore) was working as TM for iFive Distribution so I ended up spending a few months tagging along, not really doing anything other than listening to "The Squirters" horrendous stories about clawhammers and decapitations while postponing actually getting a job. The following photo was taken at the Park in Great Yarmouth where we went for a demo, and is the first documented example of someone asking for my autograph. Admittedly the kid in question was overweight, had glasses like milk-bottles and as well as having a mullet that could make a German envious, he was rocking a pretty suspect earring and to top it off, smelt like dogshit but everyone has to start somewhere and it still definitely counts and I signed the shit out of him...

The only thing that can follow on from a doughy mulleted child, is Puffy.

Puffy is yet another abomination/decoration that adorns Dickfingers HQ and is on a not-exactly-exclusive list of things that the poor, long suffering Mrs Dickfingers has banished to "the back room." The Back Room, for anyone interested, is the grown up version of blu-takking a picture to the fridge "so that everyone can enjoy it" which is really a glorified way of keeping it out of the way. It is basically home to all of the really horrible things that Mrs Dickfingers doesnt really want to have to carry backwards and forwards every time her Mum & Dad come to visit. As such, it includes the assembled Dickfingers Collection of Fine Art, most things skateboarding related including any occasional houseguests and a stuffed pufferfish. (For the record, Hank the Christmas Owl is in constant threat of being sent to the back room.) Puffy is the product of my brother's trip to Croatia I think, Im sure it was somewhere like that and when faced with the prospect of getting something thoughtful and useful he used his initiative and got me a stuffed dead fish instead. The best bit, after the fact that "its a dead pufferfish" is that the eyes are the googley eyes that you used to get on stuffed toys and if you look in his mouth you can see the cotton wool they stuffed him with. God only knows how you go about taxidermyingying a pufferfish but if I had to guess, (and as we're doing this, I'm going to,) I'd say you'd probably want to get a whisk in there to churn up the innards and separate everything on the inside of the pufferfish from the outside of the pufferfish. Pour the insidey bits out then sling a balloon in it, blow it up until you've got the rough shape youre after and then varnish the fuck out of it as quick as you can before you sling on some googley eyes. If anyone would like to donate their eldery or recently deceased pufferfish, we can test the theory. I'll even make you a cup of tea when you bring it round and you can take photos for the blog... enticing eh?

The next few pictures were from a visit up to Yorkshire to visit Mrs Dickfingers elderly and very northern Grandad. Fortunately, I have the tastes of an old man anyway so was pretty stoked to spend the day pretending I was 80 by gurning out of the top of a open topped bus in between eating pub lunches, drinking beer, having cream teas and complaining about having to walk. It was tops and York wasn't nearly as grim as the media would lead you to believe. I hardly saw a single whippet and it didnt rain once...

Here I am enjoying what I was assured was the very best Cream Teas in the land at Betty's Tea Room in York. This is the starting point of my fascination with Cream Teas and as Tea rooms go its a pretty good place to start really as they've had about 200 years experience in fattening up folk with scones and brews so they know what they're doing. They bring you out shit loads on dainty little silver trays and there are flowers on table and everything, its ever so refined...

The rest of the time in York, (other than the sitting and the eating of Pub Lunches) was spent ambling around Yorkminster, which to the uninitiated is a bloody great big cathedral, slap bang in the middle of York. On the surface it looks fairly normal but upon closer inspection there are some pretty suspect looking decorations in there. I'll start off gently and happily admit that I was actually kind of stoked when I found these sculptures commemorating the brave and noble Muppets that ruled over York in the 17th Century. The did a very good job especially considering they were made of felt and most of them didn't have legs...

However its a shame that the Muppet Bishop Kings were overshadowed by one of the creepiest statues I have ever ever seen. And thats including those weird bastards that paint themselves gold and stand in Covent Garden begging or performing or whatever it is they claim to do... (Honestly, don't get me started on mimes, if I spent my entire working day keeping as still as humanly possible whilst doing nothing, someone would have a nuclear shit-fit instead of handing me money and Lord knows its not as if I havent tried)

Now, I would be lying if I said I knew a lot about the fine and no doubt intricate details of interpreting Statues but I have no idea what was going through the sculptors mind when he decided that the best way to decorate a Church would be with a recumbent Vicar gazing dreamily into the distance while two angels, who happen to be naked children, stand either side... Crying.

...the worst part was that noone else seemed to have noticed it so I spent a few minutes staring at it in disbelief while an entire tour walked past it without breaking stride. Maybe reclining priests surrounded by traumatised infants are more commonplace up north... Mindblowing...

Other random things on my harddrive include my foray into the art world after Mrs Dickfingers parents got me some Art Stuff for Christmas. I'm not sure what they expected me to come up with but I think that they're grateful that I haven't ended up with a sketchbook full of veiny cock and ball combos...

My new found status as an artist also qualifies me to take pictures of trees and horizons at sunset.

Oh and I got a gun. It's this one. It's ever so good and if you're ever in the area I will happily take you out to shoot things with it. Youre welcome...

I'm actually in the process of starting another half assed website that will more than likely include sporadic updates and general nonsense in a slightly different format so if I'm not updating this as often, that will be why... But don't worry, you'll be the first to know as soon as I get off my arse and sort it.

I've got no idea what the next one will be about. If you have any suggestions I'm open to requests, although if you don't come up with anything good I'll have to empty and varnish a pufferfish... You have been warned...

An Open Letter To Skateboarding, Sealand & Mosherdrops

2009-12-16T21:12:00.010Z

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...

2009-12-06T14:10:00.013Z

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.

The Mini Ramp Championship, Product Placement and Lizard Drinks

2009-11-16T21:23:00.007Z

Welcome to another thrilling update to what could well be the best thing on the internet. In the last week I have managed to gain three, thats 3, new disciples meaning that I am now only one behind Jesus. I should have pointed out when you signed up that you are going to be expected to stop whatever you are doing when I recruit number 12 and follow me around wherever I go documenting my every move and writing your own gospel to pass on my triumphant message. I haven't worked out what my message will be yet but we've got a bit of time to kill before lucky number 12 rocks up so I'll work something out then. As a vague idea it might be why we should shoot Janet Street-Porter but I'll iron out the kinks and get back to you soon...

In other news, my intrepid French correspondent (bonjour mademoiselle) has sent me an urgent email alerting me to recent discoveries in France. Apparently as I am already being lauded as pretty much the best thing ever after my insightful and sensitive expose on all things French here the plucky people of Caen have named a bar in my honour. I can only imagine how awesome it must be to drink in it. If I had to guess though, and as I can tell you're hanging on my every word, I will, I'll guess: very. Very rad. One day we will go there disciples and a thoroughly nice time will be had by all... I promise.

Keen-eyed readers out there, or indeed anyone with a fairly good boredom threshold, 5 minutes to spare and the ability to find the last post, will know that I promised skateboarding after a noticeable absence of it on here, and never one to intentionally disappoint I thought the best place to capture it would be in Skegness, home of the UKSA Annual Miniramp Championships.

After getting lost on the way and ending up perilously close to recreating a scene out of Deliverance, Poosink, Dan Leech: Pro Skater and I finally found our way to Skegness' stinging park X-site. Here we were presented with Billboard. I am guessing that Bill here works for Monster. Either that or he has mild to moderate mental issues and went bat shit crazy at an energy drink gift shop. Either way, I think its safe to say that he is a total gaylord. Honestly. I ask you... I make no secret of the fact that I am down for whatever free stuff comes my way but a Monster Hat, shirt, two wristbands, a bandana and a picture perfect photo-op beside two stickers? Christ even I have standards... Add to that a fashion mullet, a tribal forearm tattoo, liberal use of the word "DOOOOD" throughout the day and running away from the ramp with a Monster Banner clutched round his neck like a cape and you have a recipe for a Battylender...

There must have been something in the water as shortly after taking a photo of Billboard, a group of ratkids emerged to stand next to the fence of the park. As weird as that is in itself I could probably have let it go without mention if they didn't then spend the next 10 minutes pulling their trousers as far up as they'd go, tucking their trouser legs into their socks which were also pulled right up then opening their flies to have a look at each other's balls...

Inside was a different matter. These two heros were seen standing next to blog favourite Smedatron, truly repping UK Skateboarding. Im just thankful that I didn't wear my Bowling For Soup Hoody and the longest jean shorts in history as I don't quite think I could have made it work as much as these badmen... You bet they look nonchalant, I bet they spent the morning smashing supermodels and hoovering up lines of prang the size of poodles legs contemplating the world's greatest mosher drop... Gangsters...

Ever so slightly less gangster, but not much, we have Dan Leech: Pro Skater, making his blog debut. Easily in the top five flame haired skaters in the country, don't let his slightly portly appearance deceive you, Leech is able to shred pretty much anything put in front of him, used to have an agoraphobic cat and can grow a very powerful red beard which is a pretty good recommendation in my eyes.

He also owns what could be the rankest thing I have ever seen in a bottle. I have no idea where this came from, it has Chinese writing on it but I'm pretty sure that he's never been to China so God only knows. It is some obscure alcoholic concoction with two dead lizards floating around in it and it doesnt bear thinking about how dog rough it would taste. Apparently All Terrain Trev has stated that he'll eat one of the lizards for £20. I will keep you posted as I hear more, I dont know if I really want that sort of thing lowering the tone of my otherwise stellar blog...

Leech took time out of his busy schedule of looking a bit portly to take a stinging photo of me doing my best trick. I then went outside to the plaza and performed a crowdpleasing street demo with the Sidewalk Forum's TomDay. Minds were blown...

Some dude from Scotland called T-Bag came down and shredded. I honestly couldn't tell you why he's called T-Bag but I'm going to guess that it's because he likes putting his balls in things. That may not be true but I'll run with that until I hear otherwise. Here he is ollieing into the ramp from the extension with my badly timed photography to forever document it.

Greg Nowik stormed into first place with a whole host of rarely seen stunts. I managed to get a slightly better picture of one of them.

I had a ropey smooth sausage...

...and Billboard came out of the woodwork long enough to try and storm the product toss, presumably to get something to compliment his entire Monster outfit. If there is a better advertisment than Billboard here, not to drink that arsehole rotting poison than then I have yet to see it... Reports indicate that he was seen outside shaking like a shitting dog and whimpering to himself pouring a can of Monster into his own pocket and humming Busted songs. I just made that up actually but look at him, its definitely possible...

Cheers to Mr Shitknees Powley and Nick & Toby from X-site for sorting it out. I'm pretty sure that Toby told me his missus loves this blog, as well she should, so hello Mrs Toby, glad you like it. If that guy wasn't Toby then thank you Mrs Other Bloke, I'm stoked this thing is gathering followers.

Thats it for this time, as I am in the process of applying for my Shotgun Licence (oh yes) expect the next update to take a considerably more agricultural slant. I've even got a shooting coat.

Make sure you leave comments as well, its been ages since anyone has commented on here, I want to know that I'm not talking to myself...

The Dickfingers Wildlife Programme

2009-11-02T20:41:00.010Z

First of all, apologies for not staying on top of the blog. I know it must have been difficult wondering what random selfindulgent crap I would be rambling on about on here but you'll be pleased to know that I am almost back to full speed after a nearfatal bout of ManFlu so the crap rambling can return to normal. It was touch and go for a bit but after a good 10 days living in a dressing gown and shuffling from room to room I managed to reintegrate back into the outside world and restarted blogging. You're welcome.

As you will all no doubt be aware, this is an animal friendly blog as showcased by my captivating pictures of postmortem critters, but that is not to say that I can't appreciate the living creatures that are knocking about providing an almost limitless supply of cute furry things to peel and eat. Those delicious little bastards really are bloody tops so in appreciation of all the wild things, this post is dedicated to various photos of random animals taken with my own fair hands.

One of the greatest aspects of animal watching is that magical moment when you know they're going to start fucking each other. This is brilliant for many reasons, not least the fact that if it happens on a nature programme you know that some poor gimp has had to sit still in a hot miserable hide to wait for hours for these bloody animals to come out, only for them to start buggering each other. This amuses me no end as it means that there is someone somewhere out there who could possibly be hating their job nearly as much as me, while I imagine their crestfallen little animal-watching faces when they realise that they are nothing more than pervy voyeurs to a pair of randy gay Meerkats.

If you're lucky enough to go to an animal park and encounter gay animals it's even better as there is usually a really uncomfortable moment when the keeper in the enclosure is faced with the moral dilemma: answer the question that the group of 7 year olds have just asked and explain exactly what those little rascals are up to and why it won't make a baby or furiously kick an Otter to stop it bumming another Otter.

Fortunately, when I went to animal park I was lucky and fast enough to reveal that Otters really are dirty little things, bumming all over the place. They love it.

Monkeys, usually renowned for their mucky behaviour pulling on themselves and what not were disappointingly less animated in their bumming and despite my enthusiastic encouragements to get on with it, appeared not to know what to do. Stupid straight monkeys.

For a second I thought that this solitary little guy was going to start polishing his little monkey helmet out of boredom but apparently the monkeys at Woburn are kept far too busy pulling the wingmirrors from cars to waste their time jerking it, so unfortunately the best picture I could get was him sitting on the floor: not wanking. Useless. This was a pretty good case to remove all their entertainment if you ask me: if I've paid £18 to look at bunch of animals you best believe one of them should be wanking. Robbed.

Carrying on through Woburn we found the Lions. I say "found" them like they were a miraculous discovery and noone expected them to be there. What I mean is: "we followed all the cars through the big gates with Lions on the front and bang, there they were, right where they were meant to be" which, thinking about it, is a pretty good thing when dealing with Lions.

For a second it looked like we were in luck and there was going to be a full scale King Of The Jungle Bum massacre...

but it turns out the Mummy-Lion was having none of it and delivering a swift clip round the earhole so the Daddy-Lion had to limp off with half a nasty.

Mrs Dickfingers decided that she wanted to feature a bit more in the bloggings so decided to up the ante and allowed a photo of both of her hands to appear. In this case stroking a Lemur. The Lemur looks surprised but apparently thats just how they look and according to the Lemurlady who looks after them, he was quite liking it.

When he saw me hand the camera over and stride to him with purpose he took on a look hinting at mild to moderate terror and looked like he was going to bolt at the first opportunity but hung about long enough for me to have a quick go.

It appears Lemurs have a philosophy similar to dogs: if they can't eat it or fuck it they will either piss on it or ignore it. You've got to appreciate the sentiment, and personally that's a viewpoint I can get behind...

Then he buggered off up a tree. He didn't have a wank either but on the plus side I did get to feed him which is a close second to seeing an animal throttle it.

Penguins hardly ever wank. They do try to suck themselves off though.

Wolves are generally pretty badass and any creature with their own fleece gets a lot of respect on here.

This is just a mouse that I managed to rescue with a coffee mug and a dustpan from under a cupboard after a cat was after it. David Attenborough would have let it die and filmed it to preserve the equilibrium but bugger that, it would have made a right mess on the floor so I saved him. Which, if you think about it, and I have, is conclusive proof that I do more for animals than Attenborough.

I still don't have a job that I like so if any of you out there feel like offering me something better than what I'm doing at the moment that would be super. In the meantime I guess I'll have to face the crippling horror of another fucking day working for someone who genuinely is a spaz beyond description. I promise when I leave I will do a proper run down of the shite I've had to put up with there possibly with Artists Impressions. Don't hang about... There's got to be something out there that I can do for a living: I can make a stinging cup of tea, I can take loosely artistic photos of animals bumming each other and I don't really want to have to wear a tie for the following 40 years I have until I can retire.

Let me know yeah?

Next time: skateboarding, its been a while, so probably skateboarding. Yeah, definitely Skateboarding.

Video Blogs, Hedgehogs and The Dickfingers Diet

2009-10-11T19:55:00.016+01:00

Welcome to another Boring selfindulgent update to what is still not being called the greatest blog ever. You bastards. We need to raise the profile of this a little bit, if any of you want to make badges or wear tshirts then jump around at the back of Outside Broadcast news reports Im willing to set up a pretty generous PhotoIncentive... I'll wait to hear from you... and before I forget, if you're one of the lovely people that I forwarded this blog to instead of a CV then: Hello, employ me, I'm ever so good and I don't like my job anymore. Go on, let me work for you, it'll be great... I promise. (Big Kiss x)

In an attempt to jumpstart my aforementioned healthy eating drive, and in a bid to reduce the amount of calories that I intake, I have developed the Dickfingers Diet. It's set to revolutionise the way that people eat and is fundamentally very simple. All you need to do is take what ever you would normally eat, and instead of putting it on a plate and gobbling it up until you get bingo wings and cry cause noone loves you, youve suddenly got asthma and you can't find a boyfriend. Oh no, you simply put it in a mug. Mugs are smaller than plates therefore, ergo, concurrently: less food. Here you can see the wondorous sight of Mug Shepherds Pie, containing half the Pie and therefore half the calories of Plate Shepherds Pie... Maths: helping fight Obesity since about 15 minutes ago...

To celebrate my new found dieting techinique I sat on the floor and baked cakes. This definitely didnt have anything to do with Mrs Dickfingers breaking the blender and food mixer leaving me with the option to throw out about £8 worth of half congealed cake parts or to have a crack at salvaging the whole bloody thing myself. If nothing else it goes to show that I really will stop at nothing to avoid wasting money. Or in this case, sugar, flour eggs and butter. Which were paid for with money so it kind of makes sense. Piss off, this isnt the place for logic...

I went to Hertford the other day and thought that I would include a picture of my favourite newagents. This shop never fails to make me smile and my only regret is that they dont have a bigger sign... Mrs Dickfingers was away up the road, mortified that I would stop on a corner, whip out my cameraphone, eagerly snap away at a shop front to ensure I got a good enough photo of a Gay newsagent (you're welcome...)

If it helps, she wasn't any keener on me stopping to photograph what I think used to be a hedgehog either, although to be fair I think she was more concerned with me standing in the middle of the road hovering over the squashedhog...

The conclusion of this wonderful update is something special: the first videoblog update. Not bad considering I've been doing this for about 5 months now... Procrastion is a wonderful thing. I think.

The following 87 seconds of awesome was filmed in about 30 minutes by My Mate Adam on his lovely sparkly HD fish eye camera type thing and I spent the following 4 hours dicking about trying to get my head around editing software. Unbelievably, the following is the best that I could get it. After many revisions I ditched various different songs ranging from Smack My Bitch Up to Boys Boys Boys, Copacabana to Its Raining Men and decided that it was probably going to look better without Pink Comic Sans titles...

Behold: the first of maybe many video updates meaning that you can hear my maniacal giggling and pisstaking as opposed to just reading it you lucky little things...

Next Time: Have I Got A New Job? Pigeon Shooting and Whatever Other Shite I Can Think To Write About...

Ps: Employ Me... Thanksinadvance x

The Derbydos Homosexual Skateboarding Display Team & Vernon Kay

2009-10-01T21:14:00.012+01:00

When the phone rings and Toby "The Brock" Batchelor asks "Are you busy at the end of September? Do you want to MC at a game of skate?" saying "Yeah go on then" will probably have ramifications. Especially if you completely forget that youre meant to be doing it.

Somehow, the people at Hooked Extreme Blog managed to get a corner of the Westfield centre in Derby (a 200 mile round trip from Dickfingers HQ) to host an invite only Game of Skate at their NUS Lock In type affair, which is presumably a glorified way to milk the student loans out of a bunch of tax dodging floppy hat wearing arsewipes. They had originally asked Toby to shout things over a megaphone but he wasnt really into the idea, hence recruiting me and after careful consideration I decided that at the very least it would make this blog more interesting that me sitting in my front room in my pants playing Xbox so ducked out of work early and began the drive to Derby.

Craig "150% man" Smedley was there and was a good 15 years older than any other competitor. I love Smedley. Here we are with Toby, and me in my stinging Fourstar Cardigan (thanks to Crossfire and Revival Distribution *shameless plug*)

Fraser Doughty was also there competing and incidently he is not my son, despite what he might tell you to the contrary. Merry fuck only knows what he is wearing in this picture. I think it was a dare. Or maybe a joke that I'm too southern to understand. Either way he was holding it down in what could only be described as a wizarding shepherd's coat... Strange lad...

This was the set up for the whole deal: a rectangular patch of sticky laminate floor outside JD Sports and Marks & Spencer. Fuck you, The Berrics...

Everyone knows that the best things in skateboarding are held in shopping centres with swarms of workshy fashion wankers dancing about to horrendous dance music playing 10 ft away...

Here I am being presented with my "loudspeaker." People that have met me will probably testify that I am more than likely the last person you should ever entrust a megaphone to. Fortunately for the student population of Derby and surrounding areas, the megaphone I was handed is the smallest I have ever seen. The megaphone that was in my car was bigger and louder but even that would have been drowned out by DJ Shit-taste blasting out "phat beatz" which sounded like the Pacman tune. Just as well really as I got bored talking about skateboarding and started taking the piss out of Fraser's Goat-herding jumper and Tom Balls fertility threatening trousers.

Despite the fact that no bugger could hear us, we decided that we werent going to let that stand in the way of carrying things off with a vague air of professionalism. We picked the names out of my flatcap. Can't get more professional than that...

We played "Rock Paper Scissors" although more than once there was some mild to moderate confusion and we had to start again. Here we can see Tom Ball listening carefully as I mumble my way through the explanation of a game known by almost every under 5 the world over.

Smedley took his shirt off and threw some maneuvers in a vest. He started landing tricks and throwing gangsigns as well. I love Smedley.

As amusing as it is shouting obscenities at passing students and hollering at Skaters through a £5 Argos Megaphone, and believe me, it is amusing, there came a time when we had to have a rest. By rest I mean that we went freeloading as apparently there were shops giving away Apple Lanyards. Now, I should take the time to say that, If its free, I need it, so off we went in search of things to pile into my swagbag. Unfortunely there was bugger all to be had, so I made do with signing up to win things by grabbing a load of Quality Street wrappers inside a Hairdryer fuelled Shower Cubicle.

Pre Grab:

Mid Grab:

Post Grab: I didnt win but at least it breaks up the skating pictures for you... (You're welcome)

Unfortunately I couldnt stay in the cool refreshing shower cubicle and had to get back out again to shout at folk. I've got no idea why Toby is bending over here. Probably all the excitement.

Look how satisfied he looks in this one. It must have been the bending over.

More skating happened. People did tricks, other people didnt do them and eventually it came down to Craig Smedley and Jacob Bettison. Smed didnt make it after a series of close calls and Jacob won. Smedley didnt want his prize as it was a board over 7.5inches wide so I bought him a pint and a bowl of nuts and went home with it instead (the board, not Smedley)

There was a shortlived best trick comp for a Pink Element Board (oooooook) which Ballbag won with a half cab lateflip... I then signed it to potentially increase the value. Maybe.

... and as if that wasn't enough, I even signed the Hooked Extreme Tshirt joining such luminaries as Lee Blackwell and Ben "As Much Use As Anne Franks Drumkit" Cundall. Ive arrived.

Vernon Kay was meant to show up to do a DJ set, however we finished at about 9 and were told that he wasnt going to get there before 11 and I'll be buggered if I was waiting around for two hours to see some lanky northern goit off the telly so buggered off to the pub to listen to Smedley talk about debt collectors and tricktip videos. Good times

All photos were taken by Mrs Brock who got a Press Pass especially and I'll post a video of the above shenanigans if I get a link.

Next time: Something else. Can't wait can you? I thought not.

Boredom Prevails...

2009-09-26T16:06:00.009+01:00

Right ho blogfans, we've reached a difficult situation: My self imposed obligations to write these things have inexplicably outstripped all the interesting shit that I get up to so brace yourself for an archive edition. It'll be a bit like those shitty flashback editions of America Sit Coms except I'll be the only one that remembers it first time round and there won't be an awkward media documented Vicodin addiction (probably)

As keen eyed readers will know, challenging me to do anything will often result in a brief argument, punctuated with sulking and intermittent bickering that usually ends with me setting my mind to do something, usually foolhardy. You would think that after 4 years, Mrs Dickfingers would be privy to this fact, so imagine my surprise when idly mentioning the cultivation of facepubes, she declared "You can't grow a moustache, you'll look stupid..." Whether or not this was actually a challenge will forever be lost in translation but what we can all agree on is that handlebar mowsers are rad.

Caught In The Crossfire's annual Halloween shenanigans are about to kick off with all the retarded dressing up and offensiveness that you would expect. Last years saw Michael Jackson skating a mini ramp with Leatherface and Two Massive Poo's while a load of pilled up gurners took their shirts off and got sweaty watching Pendulum. And you thought that skate events were gay... It was also the night that it became clear that sleeping in a closed Tubestation at 5 in the morning will not result in a good nights sleep... My costume was rad though. Its all about the details

In other Crossfire related news: my ramblings from the UKSA Championships can be viewed and admired here expect upcoming reviews and various pimpings of other bits and pieces as they happen...

This passing weekend saw me embarking on a Mexican night round My Mate Adam's house, with Mojito's Beers, Karaoke Xbox Games (which I rule at) and Nachos. We then played Scrabble and I managed to convert "Bandit" to "Arsebandit." Photographic evidence below:

Continuing the theme of Dead things from Last Post I found a picture of a dead snake which I thought you would love to see

and also found a picture of a just as dead but slightly happier fox. Look at his startled little face. Bless him...

Thats it for now, tomorrow I'm going to drive up to Derbydos to MC an invite only game of skate featuring Craig "50% extra free" Smedley along with TomBallBag and Fraser "Im not his dad" Dougherty. Apparently Vernon "Bolton" Kay is going to be there to do a DJ set so expect a blog appearence with either a cheerful brush with stardom or a scathing put down depending on if he's a cock or not...

Expect a sporadic update in a few days. Maybe

Salty Balloons, Paddling, Brock & The Hulk...

2009-09-13T17:43:00.000+01:00

One week on from the UK Championships and the debacle of poo-sink and gay night, I have decided to make a concerted effort to increase the frequency of posts on here in a vain attempt to keep myself occupied. Having spent a large portion of the last 7 days hustling shoes and trying to track down a Fourstar Cardigan I decided that the best thing to do would be to go paddling at Ashwell Springs, a very very cold, very shallow, yet still very cold spring. Now, I remember going to Ashwell Springs when I were a lad, and I swear that either I've either grown more sensitive in my advancing years or its got a shit load colder. I jumped in, stood just long enough to prove to a dopey little shithawk who was manlier (have that ratchild, bet you've not even seen a girl naked have you?) then jumped back out again before the shooting numbness of the shitting cold stretched any further up my shins...

Unfortunately the little toerag got back in again so not to be outdone by someone without pubes, I followed suit and pretended it wasn't killing me. Thankfully he left to go and get his nappy changed or something like that and I commandeered my very own island.

After a night of soft towels, hotwater bottles and internet explanations of the onset of Hypothermia, I woke up to find a missed call from The Hulk. This in itself is odd as The Hulk only phones me after I have called him and the useless lummox usually waits about 24 hours to call back. The Hulk wanted to go for a skate (again, its not worth getting into how odd this is, its been about a year since I last skated with him) so collecting TBone, three blokes with a combined age of about 80, went to the Grange to tit about on kids toys...

To our delight, the council must have been up there early to celebrate the imminent arrival of "The Random Goons (and me)" so decked the place out with balloons and although they didn't blow them up for us but its still the thought that counts... Thank You Letchworth...

A Celebratory Letchworth Balloon...

This is the Hulk:

He is apparently called the Hulk after a security guard and jobsworth manager tried to throw him and Toby out of their carpark only to piss him off in the process and find themselves simultaneously pinned to the floor by their respective necks while the Hulk shouted "Calm Down" at them or something similar... In short, don't piss him off.

Here he is, totally shredding the gnar and definitely definitely not posing a photo, we'll have none of that illegitimate bullshit on this blog thankyouverymuch...

Tbone can be seen next to him, blown away by all the radical that the Hulk possesses and spurned on, did a Crooked grind off the end trying to avoid what we hope was only dog (and not human) poo that we covered up with a HulaHoops bag...

He then got all arty and Myspace and did a backtail just before I got a call from the copywrite people confirming that I do now own the rights to all "Longshot-Portrait-Moodysky-Skatephotos"

We then went to the pub and walked past a man who let off the wettest sounding fart I have ever heard a human produce, only to wander off as if nothing had happened. Come to Letchworth, not only is it the worlds first Garden City and home to the first roundabout it also lays claim to flatulent Pensioners and is quite close to my house. What a place...

Defying Toby's claims that I am the slowest Masticator in the World (steady) I also managed to eat a burger in a record 14 and a half minutes... Personal Best followers, personal best...

After finishing my burger I went to my Mum & Dads house to check their post and burgle their freezer while they're on holiday only to find a dead rat outside. It reminded me of a dead pigeon I saw a little while ago so I thought I'd include them.

If I find any more dead animals you can bet your arse that they'll be posted up here quick smart...

Next time: Kite flying (weather depending) and What Free Things Have I Managed To Hussle?

How Do You Even Get A Skid Mark On A Sink?

2009-09-07T21:50:00.000+01:00

There are some signs that a day is going to be a good one and nothing could be better than starting our journey to the spiritual home of the trouser press, than seeing Jade Goody, two months early for Hallowe'en, sitting in a Ford Fiesta in the car behind us, sorting out her hair. Never one to let a mild case of death or baldness stop her, Jade appears to be back on form, taking it all in her stride. Good for you, Jade, keep chasing that rainbow...

Arriving at Corby (for all those people who missed the Trouser Press reference) I tracked down Chalk kneed Porsche worrier, Powley, who was in charge for the weekend's proceedings and informed me that I had a very important and wicked cool job to do...

Here I can be seen, in my important (some might say vital) role for a large portion of the day: Chief Vans Waffle Maker Guy. By my reckoning, I must have churned out about 100 tepid, half-set doughy waffles to fat kids and pro skaters alike using a variety of different sales pitches including "Have a waffle, you know you're hungry" to an overweight 12 year old and "Eat one, you cunt" to pretty much everyone else.

Here you can see Powley holding £40 of my takings and pondering the depths one man will stoop to at the very hint of "free shoes"...

After a short spell, word must have gotten round that I was straight up killing it at the Waffle stall, and, inevitably, we ran out. This couldn't have happened at a better time as frankly, its fucking boring making waffles, especially when the collected UK Skating Scene is kicking just out of view behind a sea of helmet-wearing fat kids eager for doughy treats, so, having served my time behind a waffle iron, I fucked it off and went to check out the Gnarshredding...

Stu, the inky fingered genius behind the Lovenskate brand and fellow tea enthusiast, made the journey from the big city to stand in front of a Vert ramp so big I'd disgrace myself just peering over the coping. Here he is, looking concerned while Sam Beckett floats a BS Air in the background like its the most natural thing in the world to be dangling 8ft above the coping and 22ft above the floor. A short while later, Beckett pulled a 720 in a run (bearing in mind that he is the first Englishman to do 'em and is still unable to legally drink)

For non skating lurkers: this is a big deal. Hence Stu's concern. Bless him. To cheer him up, we had a bit of a skate: I won my very own "Longest Slappy Noseslide" Competition as everyone else was too scared to enter (that and I didn't tell them) then we went to play in the foam pit. These things are fucking amazing and despite Grosa trying to put me off with stories of Skateparks finding enough used johnnies to refill a bath in the bottom of one, I still couldn't get enough of the foamy bastard and tried, with some degree of sucess to learn Judo Airs before managing to throw some serious shapes with some kind of Airwalk type thing. Either way, it were pretty rad.

With all the skating for the day taken care of, it was time to relocate all 150 odd sweaty arsed skaters (not me, I had a wash) from the skatepark, to the Rugby Club. For those of you unfamiliar with Skateboarding events, I should point out that it would be a lie to say these things were overpopulated with women. By our very nature, the type of place that we would need to hold these events in in order to attract women, wouldn't let us into the carpark, let alone the bar, which is why we end up in Rugby clubs that look like they were used for the interior shots of Phoenix Nights... and skating being a 98% male passtime, these shitty rugby clubs end up with more blokes in them than Steven Gately...

Powley decided that it would be a good idea to get some music and hired a wedding disco, then deciding to do away with any pretence that it was going to be in any way "straight" and requested "the gayest songs you've got" then pointed at me and said "play what you'd play if it was our wedding." The DJ exceeded himself and managed to step it up to 11 gaying the night away with YMCA, the Spice Girls and the Pet Shop Boys whilst watching the Great & The Good of the UK Skate Scene Conga Line Bum each other and dry hump the shit out of anything with testicles... Good times...

Here I am dancing to Copacabana. Look at my little face, I fucking love it...

Rob "Wob" Smith, Gay Night MVP, decided that stage diving would be a good idea so jumped off the balcony...

...right into YMCA... aka "Too Many Dicks On The Dance Floor"

No caption necessary... just look how scared Fraser looks...

A sausage party cocktail...

Mr Nicholson and I keep it civilised...

...while Powley looks like a sexcrime waiting to happen...

This marked the end of our night. I went to bed feeling surprisingly upbeat only to be woken a few hours later by a stoned, inebriated youth, who promptly informed me that he was "going to be sick now" and proceeded to cough up his tiny little stomach all over the bedroom floor of our hotel room. I then went back to sleep, as best as anyone can in a room full of someone else's sick, only to be woken by the same youth kneeling next to my bed trying to put his trousers back on. The reasons for him taking his trousers off in the first place were not entirely clear until the morning when I found a mystifying inch long skidmark on the sink and one of the bathtowels inexplicably smeared with the remnants of a brown sitdown. I did take a photo but shame and desparation forced him to delete them for fear of turning up here... Dear oh dear...

Struggling to come to terms with the atrocities of room 4, I had a quiet sit down and read a magazine from Cockleg's car...

...then went inside and pissed off Cates by not opening up the waffle stall for round 2...

Then loads of stinging skateboarding maneuvers went down and I kind of got distracted watching them... Sorry. Although, to make it up to you, I did find a Scoody Doo outfit. So I put it on...

That was pretty much it. I also got a Mini Vans Keyring of an Authentic which I was pretty stoked on. Then I went home and slept for about 12 hours.

Same time next year...

Next post: I haven't decided yet...

Crabs, Cream Teas, Poodles & Pasties...

2009-08-22T22:40:00.000+01:00

Welcome back blog fans... (Theres 7 of you now, Im thinking about waiting until I get another 5 then renaming you disciples, stay tuned and someone remind me in case I get sidetracked...)

As you will no doubt be aware, the past 3 postless weeks that you have been forced to endure have been because I have have been fannying around with the long suffering Mrs Dickfingers to some of the furthest and most exotic corners of the Earth... or to be more specific, France and Cornwall.

To make up for the no-doubt intolerable absence of my fascinating (educational AND entertaining) posts behold a special superduper extra special Holiday Edition length post:

The first week was spent in the charming Medoc region of France, (its near Bordeaux, don't worry, I had to check too)

Arriving in France, I did exactly what any Globetrotting International Cultural Chameleon would do to integrate seamlessly into French life: I hired the smallest gayest car they had, bought a baguette, peed in the open without being drunk, then found a vinyard. Right after these photos were taken, a confused couple asked me for directions as apparently I looked so French they figured I must know my way around (only don't ask anyone as they'll only deny it...)

The only thing that slightly undermines my otherwise immaculate Gallic Assimilation and betrayed my Brits-Abroad roots, can be seen in the following picture: I went to the beach...

Unfortunately and unbeknownst to me, there appears to be a newly registered French law that dictates any adult male within 50 metres of a large public body of water, should remove all clothing and parade around nonchalantly flopping their hangdowns at everyone, trying to maintain eye contact for as long as possible to make all repressed uptight Englishmen in the area (me) feel as uncomfortable as possible... In one week in France I believe that I saw more leathery European winkies than any man ever should... In short blogfans, don't go to a French beach unless you have a deep-seated desire to see more balls than Elton John's chin...

All this was quickly forgotten when I found a sign to Brest (which bizarrely they don't find funny)

...and shortly afterwards, saw a poodle with a ribbon tied round it... Apparently I just missed the old man with a Beret, bicycle and a Stripy Jumper as he had an urgent appointment at Stereotype HQ but I may have better luck next time

France was amazing, however, for all the things that they do have over England, force fed animals with amazingly delicious fat livers and cavalier attitudes to public nudity being some of them, after a while you realise what you are missing and have to go home. In my case to spend a week in a deserted field in Cornwall and eat more Pies, Scones and Tea than is probably wise...

Here is Dickfingers Base Camp: 6 hours and a lot of petrol away from HQ and fucking cold when it rains. Which it did. Often.

As if being the home of Cream Teas and Pies wasn't enough, Cornwall proved to be a veritible...thing of stuff to do. In between "sleeping in a carrier bag" and "avoiding rain" we managed to get crabs (snigger)

and found the (apparently) famous Jamaica Inn (the site of another Cream Tea) where I proved that no matter what monumental historical site you take me to I will somehow work out a way of posing next to it to imply its my widger...

I also found time to paddle thereby completing all necessary holiday rituals

As if that wasn't enough, using my Mr Miyagi-like skills I managed to snatch a fly out of the air using nothing but my shitting hands... find another blog with fly snatching, go on, I dare you.

Next time: Something else.

Team Dickfingers and The Greatest Boards Ever...

2009-08-03T22:58:00.000+01:00

This Saturday, while Mrs Dickfingers left to go galavanting around the Emerald Isle leaving me to fend for myself and get my own tea for a few days, (thanks to all the blog fans that offered to cook me my tea you ungrateful shits, after all I give to you...) I went to Mad Mad Monks Team Game Of Skate... a wonderful collection of sweating blokes in a field orchestrated by the chief Homo: Mr Monk, who should be your first port of call for thinly veiled threats of homosexual rape and other general hilarious unpleasantries...

He was ably assisted on the day by Mr Mark Nicholson, long time Death Skateboards Professional and thoroughly nice bloke, who incidentally looks like a right bad man in this here shot...

Before I go on, I should take time out to explain to our non skating readers (Sonia & Fran, who I work with and have been forced into reading this blog by peer pressure and the threat of doing more filing) that "Skate" is basically the same as "Horse" in basketball: One person sets a trick and the other person has to repeat the same trick or get a letter (and in this case a loud question about their sexual preferences broadcast over a cheap shitty megaphone.)

Here I am, looking like a portly bearded windowlicker, shortly before organising Team Dickfingers: an eclectic slice of Skateboarding talent with varying styles and attributes on the board... We had Mr John Seaman and Jerome, who largely comprised the raw natural talent and would be heavily relied on for actually doing tricks, we had the "Artist Formerly Known As Cockleg" who provided Pressure flips and other obscure maneuvers, we also had another guy called John, who I met about 5 minutes before our game and didn't have any other team to go on. And there was me. Who provided the team name. Which was pretty vital to be fair. I would naturally consider myself as having a "Player/Manager" type role in the whole episode which consisted of everyone else doing tricks I suggested, inbetween my occasional Frontside Shove It and Bigspin.

This is a picture of our first match up against Team Cundall, or Haircut 100 as it was quickly redubbed. Team Dickfingers are perched on the left, awaiting to deliver a swift and violent arsekicking to Cundall's team of Vestwearing Bumworriers on the right. Cundall can be seen, hands on hips, in the Blue shirt, with Acid-wash skin tight jeans and a hair cut, the likes of which hasn't been seen since Ultravox. He was seen leaving almost immediately after his swift and violent defeat, having also been told that he couldn't join another team unless he played stark bollock naked...

Anyway, we managed to progress through the game reaching the Finals where we were narrowly beaten by Radman's team, who in our defence, had a professional skater and Radman, who like his name suggests, is rad and capable of doing just about any trick ever set. Ever. He managed to knock us out with a 360flip-Body-Varial which I have never seen anyone else do one. I dont think that anyone with the possible exception of Craig "50% extra free" Smedley could beat him. In short, we were buggered but did the best we could...

Shortly afterwards there was a best trick format thing in the bowl which allowed me to roll out My One Trick, which earnt me a new hat (keen eyed readers will know my feelings on hats)...

...and allowed Death Flow Rider Mikey Patrick to fly shitting miles above the coping and embarrass fat older skaters like me....

It then started raining and I got a bit cold so we went home and had a sit down and I put my new cardigan on and watched the telly and it was pretty good to be honest.

In preparation for THE BIRTHDAY OF THE YEAR which is arriving in 4 short days (and I swear to God that if you shits don't at least write a comment on here then you'll be subjected to the biggest internet sulk known to man) I decided to get myself an early Birthday Present and treated myself to these amazing pieces of kit right here:

Roger Skateboards are just about the greatest (and by greatest, I mean funniest) thing to ever happen to skateboarding and thats not just because I have some of their boards and am a bit pissed whilst sitting here writing this... any company that calls themselves "Roger" and has a board emblazoned with "Ghost with a Boner", a "Me So Horny Unicorn", a "Trouser Snake" and who claim their company is based on 37% Skateboarding, 63% Weed & Tigers is alright in my book... Any Birthday presents can be purchased from there...

Keep your eyes peeled for an upcoming review on Caught In The Crossfire soon...

Toby has recently informed me that as amazing as this blog is, and I think we can all agree on that, I should attempt to tackle some issues of the day "like Gays, Aids & Abortions" so here goes... Gays are alright as long as you don't bum a dirty one and get Aids which isnt alright, but even if you do you won't need an abortion which are kind of alright as long as you arent too religious... Glad we cleared that one up... If you need any other deep searching questions answered please contact me as soon as: I'm here to help

More Updates Soon.... (maybe)

The Seaside and Garden Camping Round 2...

2009-07-30T00:23:00.000+01:00

After the roaring success of adding culture to the mix a couple in earlier posts, and spurned on by the good old fashioned fun I had trying to fly a shitting kite the other day, I decided that what I, and indeed this already pretty powerful blog needed, was a good old British trip to the Seaside. With this in mind, the long suffering Mrs Dickfingers, who contrary to popular belief is real and has opted out of making her first blog appearance for professional reasons (she doesnt want to the school she works in to know her alterego-by-proxy is "Mrs Dickfingers") jumped in the car and drove the lovely Suffolk town of Aldeburgh. For those of you unfamiliar with the location of many of my childhood holidays, its a lovely little place on the East Coast of England, which has somehow managed to bypass the rest of the quaint ways of the region meaning that unlike Norfolk, there are more than 3 surnames and almost all of the kids there are born without gills.

In keeping with the Great British Traditions theme, we took a picnic and ate it in a Force 3 gale on the sea front because...er... thats why we drove all the way there... (Thats Mrs Dickfingers foot to one side, I doubt that will betray her identity)

We had everything a triumphant picnic needs: Bread, meat, crisps, cheese, a strong head wind and nothing even vaguely resembling cutlery.

Here I am eating a cheese ham and pickle sandwich after spreading the pickle with the ham.

Revolutionary...

After our delicious all in one meal, we decided that it wasn't enough to drive for 2 hours to turn around and go back home again, so partly due to my stubborn and stereotypical behaviour of an idiot near a large span of water, I rolled up my britches and waded up to the knees into the cold cold cold cold cold shitting cold North Sea and stood there for just enough time to prevent my toes dropping off. Then got back out again...

Then, hungry again, we went for fish and chips. By the sea. Which somehow, inexplicably made it taste ten times better.

Returning back to Dickfingers HQ, with very little time before our impending summer expedition, I miraculously persuaded my poor lovely missus, that we should have another night sleeping inches away from the ground in my Mum & Dad's garden. Descending with tents at a pace that could scare the shit out of every Daily Mail reader within a 5 mile radius, we (I) converted a small, pretty patch of grass behind a house into a sea of nylon, gas stoves and golf umbrellas...

We then cooked tea, got shitfaced, went to the pub and saw a band of men that sung Led Zepplin songs and all looked like plumbers, watched a guy in a wheelchair that looked like the Fonz rock out to Stairway to Heaven and then had a cup o tea in the morning rocking a pretty suspect headband...

Bring on Cornwall...

Next time: What's Daisy sitting on? and Mad Mad Monk's Game of Skate...

Stinging...

Kites, Cats & AirRifles...

2009-07-26T13:56:00.000+01:00

And here we are, back to the sporadic updates that you have come to expect... Since the last post, Delores Satellite Dove v.1 has returned and more than likely has thumped out another egg. I think this is the case as she came back the other day and hasnt moved since: she's either incubating another ratty chick for me to pester and annoy or she's bone idle... Only time will tell...

In a vain attempt to diversify this wonderful blog before you, I decided to spend the day dicking about and taking photos of it. This is worlds apart from the random dicking about I was doing before: this is premeditated...

What better way to start the day than shooting things? After getting an excited text message from "My Mate Adam" saying "Ive got an airrifle, lets go shoot things..." and lets face it, I don't often need more encouragement than that, I donned my legit oldman flat cap (none of this trendy fashion wanker business, mine is from a gun shop) and trogged out into a field. The field in question was packed full of miserable feathery bastards but before the more sensitive among you start whinging and leaving comments about my bird killing ways, I would like to point out that we left the field with exactly the same number of flying rats as we went in with... The bloody things have better eyesight that we have and by the time we worked out they were there and crawled pretending to be Rambo, or an air-rifle wielding Ninja, the little shits had flown away.

We wasted a bit of time pestering a kitten with string until it hid under the barbeque and wouldnt come out... luckily (for you) I managed to get a photo of the little rascal before he found his hiding place... Im too good to you, youre welcome...

After going to the pub and having a chicken burger and a pint (the diets going well by the way) we went skating at one of the smallest "skateparks" I've ever been to. I propelled my hefty frame over a hip and "My Mate Adam" got all arty and myspace with a Frontside Boardslide. We really are too rad...

Then I tried to fly a kite. It was shit.

Next time: What happened when I went to the seaside and Garden Camping with a stove...

A Special Report...

2009-07-16T22:07:00.000+01:00

I know, I know, the second post in 24 hours, but today has been a day of amazing revelations, even more revelationaryeryier than the other kind that you 5 (yes 5) love to read about on a nearly weekly basis: firstly, when going to work, to deal with the questions of idiots and generally spend the day trying my very very hardest not to cry, I saw a wonderful amazing heartwarming thing:

After a few days realising that life too far away from her bearded camera wielding landlord was unbearable: DAISY RETURNED!

...and before one of you smartarses decides to argue and upset me by claiming that its a different one: youre wrong, its not, as I saw her trying to work out how to squeeze her large feathery frame back behind the dish that she fluttered out from... So there. I have become the proud owner of the worlds first Homing Dove...

Imagine how stoked I was seeing my estranged satellite dove had returned... a feeling that lasted approximately 3o minutes until I sat down at work...(Ill begin the work based rantings later, theres plenty to go round) getting up three hours later and wandering to Boots (who incidentally are filthy libelous dirty liars) to get a drink. My mate had to get a prescription so I found myself lurking around with not much to do and 50p to spare.

So I made the second mistake in my day after "getting out of bed" and climbed aboard the BMI/Weight/Height machine...

This was the result. A small piece of the paper that effectively robbed me of an inch and dumped an extra stone in its place... Now I wouldnt claim to be anywhere near Adonis like proportions (at the minute) but I would be lying if I said that I was happy with being nearly 14 shitting stone...

Deciding that I don't want to live the rest of my life wearing sweatpants and having only a vague recollection of what my feet look like, I have set myself a target of getting down to a healthy weight by exercise, healthy eating and all that shit that I'd much rather ignore and play xbox instead of doing but lets face it, will in all likelyhood adopt the Brit Abroad Crash Diet technique and eat a packet of raw bacon... That'll shift it despite what Mrs Dickfingers thinks...

Expect the sporadic updates to resume... Im off to comfort eat my fat self until I cant feel feelings anymore...

I hate you all, especially those of you that weigh 13st 9lbs or less... (Cockleg Im looking at you)

Village Fetes, Hippydom & A Welcome Return

2009-07-15T23:53:00.000+01:00

Last weekend saw the annual Bramfield Summer Fete, which for those people not familiar with the quintessential English Small Town Fete Set up, means that its an excuse to get back to our roots and spend a day doing "quaint" and "good old fashioned fun" things. Depending on your point of view its either a great English tradition, or a collection of spastics in a field throwing wellies, trying to knock a coconut off a stick and spending far too much money trying win a load of tat in a hamper. I managed to find the drink tent and had a bottle of champagne and a hotdog (damn it feels good to be a gangster...) which set me up perfectly to throw wellies, try to knock coconuts off sticks and spend too much money trying to win a hamper full of crap...

Here I am just before winning 2 (thats TWO) coconuts thanks to my amazing coordination and the slightly relaxed rules of the coconut shy run by four potentially special 12 year olds...

I am also pissed off that my favourite Tshirt that I've had for years has been remade by the wankspanners at Topman which means Im going to have to put up with an army of goits wandering around the town nodding at me in recognition for having the same shirt on. Reading that back it does sound a little melodramatic and self indulgent but when it comes down to it, this is my melodramatic self indulgent blog and youre reading it so its your own fault really...

To take my mind off it I reunited with the powerful midafternoon snack that is A Cream Tea...

Then in my slightly champagne fuelled, or should that be "dulled" state, sat around while Mrs Dickfingers decided to spend about 10 minutes poking daisies into what she affectionately refers to as "your ratnest haircut." For about 10 minutes I felt that the Woodstock dream was alive...

I then got bored and vandalised the plant stall, changing the names and prices in a vain attempt to drum up sales. Unfortunately the quiet people of Bramfield weren't really prepared to pay £25 for a "Green Plant" but thats their loss at the end of the day...

I also saw a couple of puppies larking about until one had a fit, seriously, but I was told that it was bad taste to rush back to the plant stall to get the camera. You've all got Mrs Dickfingers to thank for not having a picture of a puppy having a fit. If I get the time Ill try and draw it Tony Hart Style but I'm not making any rash promises...

On the way home I decided to stick my head out the window and take a picture... just because.

Apparently dogs love it so I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Its pretty rubbish to honest. More scientific recreations next time: which might include such fascinating topics as Skateboarding, Gays and "How Much I Hate My Job"

Benihanna's, Puppies & Abandonment...

2009-07-09T21:38:00.000+01:00

Christ, 3 posts in under a week, either I'm leading a really fascinating life, or this thing is starting to monopolise my time in a similar way to the Sidewalk Forum, the single best place on the internet for talking about winkies, HalfCabs and casting aspersions on other people's sexuality. It can be found here if you have a few years spare and the patience of a saint, while in other Sidewalk related news, apparently I have reached the giddy heights of Internet Super Hero. It really is a rad day... Im giving some serious thought to tacking it onto the end of everything I sign, along with my Honoury Lordship from Sealand, (courtesy of the the God-Awful Redbull Media Machine which I may well go into another time) my title would be: Lord Dickfingers of Sealand Ba Hons, Internet Superhero... Standard.

As mentioned in the last post, yesterday saw the Relentless Ride With Us Tour hit up a wet Pioneer, which meant that my only chance of skating anything (the 3ft high Miniramp) was dashed leaving me to do the only logical thing: have a brew and loiter. I managed to talk Chalk Kneed Porsche enthuisiast and curator of Shit Knees, Powley, seen below feeling the burn, into inadvertantly wandering into a retards teaparty and having a brew before realising just how awkward it was to stand around in a special needs day care group wearing flat caps talking about just how useless Cundall really is... (answers on a postcard with "Totally" clearly written on 'em...)

To overcome the weirdness we bullied this guy (whose name escapes me) into performing endless Benihanna's for our eager blogging fingers although I suspect he loved it really.

Sad news: Daisy The Dove v.2 has finally done one, and has vacated the satellite nest for good. Reasons are unclear: she was either too big to fit in the bloody thing anymore or she might have finally got the hump with a bearded retard leaning in taking photos to update you Four (and Toby) but either way, she is gone. Expect another update this time next year if she returns and pops out an egg assuming I or you havent got bored with reading and writing this shit...

Mofugga, the artist formerly known as Cockleg, (who has asked me to stop calling him that as he's worried that the crushing weight of my influence on the internets might cause it to stick in real life) has only gone and got himself a dog. And not just a normal dog, oh no, his amazing little mate is called Klaus and is pretty much the raddest thing. Ever. Check out the pictures below of me looking smitten and the little rascal eating something that could be a greengage or birdshit. As cool as he was, I dont really want to be around him in 6-8 hours time... Have fun with that...

No idea what the next post is going to contain as Im still unsure whats happening next week but theres a more than good chance it will involve skateboarding and retards... Oh and my best mate in the whole world Toby wanted me to pimp out his blog which is full of interesting and informative stuff which you should totally check out to make him feel better about himself.

The Dickfingers Collection Of Fine Art

2009-07-06T22:04:00.000+01:00

Setting aside the wonderful collection of various dead and stuffed creatures scattered around Dickfingers HQ (and the one living thing out the front that I'll get to later) I thought that this deserved a special mention for sheer radness alone. Hand drawn entirely in biro by the dainty yet talented little fingers of the Sidewalk Forums very own small headed artisan, Alexoner, this beauty was commissioned in exchange for a very wee hat which I offered up for "something interesting" little realising that a few months down the line I would be the proud owner of a one off Dickfingers inspired original. I couldnt be more stoked. Mrs Dickfingers is still undecided (read: "she hates it and wonders why all the things I bring back to the flat have cocks on them")

On an art related tip here is the limited edition print of Horsey's debut graphic on Death which I have hanging next to the board itself. I would have got it framed exactly the same as the Dickfingers original you see above, however the Framing Lady decided that she couldn't be a party to such obscenity and returned it unframed. Please be sure to ask me if you want the details of "Framing With A Conscience" as I'll be sure to pass it on... I hear that Moral Preaching while you wait is a particular speciality

Unfortunately my burgeoning art collection is a couple of pieces away from respectable so Ill have to fill out the rest with pictures of bald rats with massive nuts...

...me performing my one trick...

...and my partially feathered Satellite Dove (v.2). Im pretty sure that we're only a couple of days away from flying the nest so expect me to get emotional, weepy and slightly withdrawn for a while until I recover/forget.

Tomorrow marks the Hertfordshire leg of the Relentless Ride With Us Tour 2009, a free for all skate tour that's open to anyone that wants to go, and lets face it, that's the only way that I'll be able to get on one anyway, so expect some photos of Cockleg, Jerome, and various other idiots titting about on or near skateboards.

Over and out...

Burton, Gays and The Ugliest Chick Alive...

2009-07-02T18:33:00.000+01:00

Holy bloody shitcakes, by some weird twist of fate in the internets, I've managed to collect as many followers as posts... In celebration of this milestone, I have decided to step up my blogging game and enlighten you lovely folk, (Cockleg, Cunt and er...the other two), as to what Ive been up to (although to be fair, Cockleg and The Cunt were actually there for parts of it so I'm not sure at what stage this becomes weird...)

We had a lovely drive up to sunny Burton On Trent, the spiritual home of Marmite and Homosexuality for the Annual Burton Gay Off aka "The Funday"

Somehow, and Christ alone knows how, prizes were organised and I managed to spend an entire afternoon burning my neck and shouting at a field full of idiots with a megaphone. As I didnt get kicked to death by the prat who turned up dressed as a Panda, who then had to listen to me scream "GO ON PANDA!" as loud as possible through a megaphone every time I saw him, I can only assume that I didnt go far enough. Better luck next year. Cockleg won a shirt for doing his only trick, I won a hat for doing my only trick and Jerome did all manner of things far too easily and got some wheels despite being a showoff...

Matt's One Trick (TM) with Weird Pandaman lurking in the background

MVP of the Gay Day Rad Jam was Smedbench. This is Smedbench. Do Not Meddle with him. He is 50% more manly than me, 100% more manly than Hitler and 150% more manly than a woman. This biological marvel makes him unbelievable on a skateboard, a fact that his nimble little feet proved throughout the day by landing every trick we shouted at him, first go, on demand: switch, regular, fakie and nollie. The guy is a hero and according to those in the know, will shortly be having a skateboard with his name and "Unabomber" written on it which I strongly recommend you buy.

The Cunt couldnt take the pace on the way home and decided that the hardshoulder of the M1 was the best place to jump out of the car for a wee wee. Unfortunately I was in the outside lane at the time but noone wants a passenger seat full of recycled cider so out he jumped while we took a photo wondering what is the matter with him.

Celebrating the emerging theme of this post, behold the best skateboard graphic I have seen: yes, it really is a Unicorn pooing a rainbow thinking "Im soooo Gay"

Mrs Dickfingers is decidedly unimpressed about this one but theres no way I can't have this hanging on the wall...

And the final update for today: the Satellite Dove, Delores, has hatched possibly the ugliest living creature known to humanity, Daisy, Satellite Dove v.2, looks like she's been built inside out but will be sure to appear in next weeks update, when she may or may not have feathers...

Stay tuned for the next update which may or may not include Doves, Bummers and Creamteas

Culture and Shit...

2009-06-22T19:11:00.000+01:00

After repeated accusations* that this blog isn't educational and highbrow enough, I decided to go to Knebworth house for a day of culture and shit... Unfortunately my interpretation of culture is drinking tea with a saucer and not scratching my ballsac but you have to start somewhere: and this is what culture looks like: a pale tawny wrongun standing outside a bloody old house drinking lemonade wearing a flatcap. How refined...

*kind of

I found a maze for midgets. Or children. Or potentially both...

...and managed to get lost...

...a fact that was quickly forgotten when presented with CockShroom...

I then had a cream tea, which I'm giving serious consideration to include in every blogpost as they are beyond rad.

For those of you interested in the current colour of Dickfoot we're currently at the Black/Yellow stage however I would hazard a guess that we're heading into Purple Country soon.

Special mention to my newest follower Jack T. Cunt. who has seen the merits of following this wonderful blog after a brief 3 hour bullying session on the drive to the Burton Bummers Gay Day Bumoff. Welcome aboard, photos to follow...

Hold tight for the next installment: What Happened at the Burton Gay Day.

Blackfoot, The Gonz and Satellite Doves...

2009-06-18T22:33:00.000+01:00

As predicted, the Fourstar Demo at Stoke was piss wet and consisted of nothing more than The Gonz arsing about in the weather doing boardslides in the wet. You have to marvel at skateboarding: there arent too many passtimes that you can justify driving a 6 hour round trip to watch a bloke you saw on the internet hang out in a park near a playground... Depending on your point of view it was either a rad day out or a very very long way to drive to watch an old man slide along a rail on an ironing board, but I guess it was better than sitting around doing nowt.

Toby decided to that to break the monotony of sitting in his van waiting for the 'Merrkans to turn up passing the time by making Fraser eat jam, we would go to the most council shopping centre in what was voted "Worst Place To Live In Britain" to have a cake. We saw a man eating Lasagne with Gravy and then proceeded to dick around until we started boring ourselves and left...

We went back to the carpark, and decided that because of the shitty weather we would waterproof Fraser's board, something that took him a good quarter of an hour to get rid of later...

I had a piss by the side of the road and Toby took a picture cause thats just the kind of guy that he is I suppose...

In other unrelated news: I went skating yesterday, tried a stinking trick to tail, of which I have many, and jumping off the board, managed to roll my toes. For those of you that are not involved in skateboarding in one way or another, rolling your ankle is a fairly common occurrence to skaters but I have never heard of anyone rolling their toes. Im not 100% sure how I managed it but thought that you'd all be excited to learn that it is indeed possible. Every day is a school day...

To end on two positive notes: firstly the Dove that nested behind my satellite dish last year has returned and laid an egg thereby ensuring that if all else fails I will definitely have something to report on here...

and Cockleg from last weeks entry has decided to promote himself from "Casual Lurker" to

"Fully Fledged Follower." Welldone Cockleg, tell both your friends...

Next times exciting update to include "My Adventure In A Childs Maze," Interesting Things I Have Learnt Driving To Go Skateboarding" and "What Colour Is My Foot Today"...

Stay tuned...

Camping, Curlywurlies and Cockleg...

2009-06-06T18:45:00.000+01:00

Occasionally, Mrs Dickfingers will have temporary lapses in judgement. These can include agreeing to go out with me in the first place followed up by allowing me to move in and import a variety of tasteless dead animals and skateboards to incorporate into the decor of BDF Headquarters...

Her latest lapse was agreeing to go camping for part of our summer holiday which meant that I got to go garden camping in preparation:

This stoked me right out up until the point when we got back from the pub at midnight to realise that we actually had to go to sleep in what was essentially two carrier bags nailed to the floor with coathangers and string... Hopefully Cornwall in August will be considerably warmer than Hertford in May...

Having recovered, I went skating and insisted that the four people that actually know about this blog (hello by the way) would be extraordinarily stoked to know that according to recently discovered evidence, I apparently am too fast and gnarly to be captured by conventional cameras. This is clearly the reason the following picture looks all shit and bandy and isnt anything to do with the fact that I struggle to coordinate myself when walking, let alone rolling around on a board...

In other news, Mofugga, from the sidewalk forum and fellow lurker revealed that his leg has the dimensions and vein ratio of a pornstar's winky...

I also ate a Curly Wurly and have included this purely because it gives the post a nice title...

Should be going to Derby tomorrow to see the Fourstar skate team skate Stoke Plaze, so there could well be interesting photos from that but in all likelihood it'll probably be another cream tea bonanza...

The First of Maybe Many...

2009-04-20T10:44:00.000+01:00

Blogs are generally for people vain and selfcentred enough to think that the whole world will be fascinated to know the ins and outs of their everyday life. Fortunately for you, I am that vain and selfcentred, so brace yourself for the first of what might turn in to a regularly updated insight into what I get up to but in all probability will most likely fade out as soon as I get bored...

Behold:

The Derbydos Homosexual Skateboard Display Team came down south to do an amazing demo which like all skateboarding related shenanigans involved very little actual skateboarding and loads of "talking about" and "taking the piss out of" it and each other... Good times...

Toby "Dont call me the Brock" Batchelor came down and was apparently hungry:

We decided that getting a cream tea would be a far better idea than actually skating so I loaded up on cream, scones and tea then proceeded to throw my back out SITTING ON A SOFA. Not content with crippling myself skateboarding in various different amusing ways to everyone but me, I have apparently branched out to hurting myself while relaxing... Cutting Edge. Either way the cream tea was amazing and Toby decided to go against the grain by eating a teacup of poop...

My Cream Tea:

Toby's Cup O Poo:

More stuff happened but I got bored and couldn't be bothered going back to my car for the camera...

Expect more interesting stuff to appear on here when I can be bothered to take photos of it and write about it...