The Mini Ramp Championship, Product Placement and Lizard Drinks

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

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. 

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

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...