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...

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

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...

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

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

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

This is Hank. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More Skateboarding >>

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

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

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.