Barbeques Consolidated Skateboarding and Piss...

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...

An Open Letter To Skateboarding, Sealand & Mosherdrops

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Moshers turned up and shredded... 

and I saw Croydon's finest Dom Marley.

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

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

and it snowed

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

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

Over and out until the new year...

The Dickfingers Wildlife Programme

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. 

The Derbydos Homosexual Skateboarding Display Team & Vernon Kay

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.