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Tag Archives: Halifax

Tin openers – £600,000!!

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So last night Bman and I had a rare night out together, but not really a date night because Linda was with us. 

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We went to The Mighty Fax to watch a screening of a film made for telly from the 80’s – Threads written by the brilliant Barry Hines and a Q&A with one of the stars – Reece Dinsdale of ‘Home to Roost’ fame. (And as Linda pointed out but I had forgotten – ex-husband of Corrie’s Gail Platt who died in a boating accident whilst trying to fake his own death in a boating accident). As you do…

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If you are unfamiliar with Threads, I strongly suggest you see it, but possibly not as a ‘Christmas Night Out’ or if you are of a nervous disposition.  Jolly and festive it is not!  It scared the shit out of pretty much everyone in the UK when it came out in 1984.  Made in an era before CGI, green screen and whatnot it’s amazing how terrifying a pair of melting milk bottles and a limping cat can be – even today!
It was actually shown in high schools too.  I remember it being shown to us in Y4 (whatever that is these days? Y10 maybe?).  I knew I didn’t particularly want to see it because I had already watched it when it was shown on the TV some years before and was still traumatized. I remember me and a couple of pals asking to be excused from the English class and we sat in the cloakroom, (quite probably sharing a Regal diddy in the girls’ loo).

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That time Gill was in a film

If anything encourages you to do the Frankie Boyle idea in the case of a nuclear attack and just get the kids in the car and drive towards the blast, then this film is it! I had forgotten how much the grim reality of ‘surviving’ is depicted in this movie.  Fuck all that mattresses up against the door and stockpiling bottled water. I think I’d rather just get incinerated outside Freeman Hardy Willis just after I’d pissed my slacks (people who’ve already seen it will know that reference).

URqAD

Interesting discussion held afterward as to whether or not it should be remade. I think no it shouldn’t.  It would end up being too CGI and like one of those apocalyptic films like Independence Day or 2012 – both of which were good films – but as entertainment not as a stark, harsh slap of reality on the face.  It was scary because it was so normal.  Because it was set in Sheffield (where I actually lived when it came out). Because it was very relevant in the 1980s.  Although it has to be said with the lunatics taking over the asylum these days and the idiotic fingers on the buttons it is just as relevant now as it was over 30 years ago.

I think it should still be shown in schools, but no doubt todays youth wouldn’t give a shit with their tiny attention spans and lack of empathy. Perhaps if they showed it in the form of a set of Instagram posts or memes it might make a small impact (for about 2 minutes until something else caught their eyes – like a new grime track or Cardi B live streaming having a shit on youtube or something).*

Naturally, Linda and I managed to interject a bit of comedy into the evening.  She mentioned something about the children in The Polar Express looking as though they were all a bit blind due to the way they had been animated – just as a lady with a guide dog arrived and sat on our row.  We then went into League of Gentlemen ‘Ernest Foote’ mode.  “There’s a man sitting next to you. Not another man. I am the man”  Cue much stifled Mutley sniggering and that was before the film.  FFS!

Ernest

They can tell these days, they’ve got tests

At the end, we both, without saying anything to one another at the time due to a gentleman (Bman) being present, noted the size of a certain Mr Dinsdale’s trouser bulge. It was only today on Messenger that we both mentioned it. 

😀  😀  😀

Right. I’m off now to stockpile tinned peaches, water purification tablets and corner the stock market in bin liners in case I need to bag up the fam and leave them outside the door for the rats. And don’t forget a fucking tin opener man!

 

 

*no idea who Cardi B actually is or what she does.  It is a she right?  I’m almost 48.  I know nowt remember.

😀

 

 

 

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All Alan wants for Christmas is his 2 front teeth

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So Alan Lickman is now free of jaw wires and is now signed off by the vets. I took him up to the vet on Wednesday morning in the pissing rain. It took longer than usual to walk down Wild Grove as he kept shuffling about in the cat box and impeding my progress.

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National Lampoon times:

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So he is now finally allowed out and we can dispense with the litter tray, thank goodness! Our garden waste bin is now full of cat shit and litter!

Gross.  

In the light of what appears to be the festive season already.  As manifest by the fact that Elton John is trying the get us to spend money at John Lewis and people are fighting in Lidl over giant cuddly carrots – me, Bman and Linda are going on a night out next week to see ‘Threads’ on the big screen plus a Q&A afterward with actor Reece Dinsdale.  Threads at Halifax Square Chapel

Christmassy!

I wonder if there’ll be popcorn, or whether we just get to eat dead sheep off the floor or eat from unlabelled tins of generic meat?

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I believe that this may all actually be a big fat lie

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I’m fully aware that in advertising, marketing companies like to big-up their product and do the hard sell, but is it just me that finds the following TV ad a tad too much to bear?

Long term readers may remember my many past posts regaling the life and high times of my journey into Leeds on the 508 (the number of the beast).   And I have to say that even through rose-tinted retrospect(acles) I have no memory of my commute being anything like this.

All aboard the Skylark!

My fellow passengers and I joining hands to skip gaily down The Headrow to hop aboard the already packed; dirt blackened windowed; piss stinking, miserable driver operated,  Halifax bus.

Like the mascara & moisturising cream adverts, I think there should be some kind of disclaimer at the foot of the ad.

E.G. “The occupants of these buses have been digitally enhanced in post-production

Or  “The passengers on this bus have been chemically enhanced with Methamphetemine and White Lightening”

Oy! First Bus – you’re fooling nobody!

 

Am off to Whitby for the weekend tomorrow with pals. and NO! IT BLOODY WELL ISN’T THE GOTH WEEKEND!

PS: and No!  I am not going on the bus…

 

 

 

 

Should I mention jelly vagina in this title I wonder? Oops there. I just did.

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Baffled today by an answer which read; “3D with 4 corners and 2 equal opposing sides for which the question had been; “What does the word ‘Enigma’ mean?”

Reminded me a bit of that T shirt slogan that was around in the 80’s that said:

              “If the answer is fuctifino. What is the question?”

 Quite!

 Other absurdities today have included my children greeting me at the end of the school day waving in my face what appeared to be a giant Haribo gelatinous vagina, apparently handed out at the end of the day by someone whose birthday it was. 

Gee thanks for that pal.  You shouldn’t have… really…

     I think it was meant to be a giant jelly tongue, but to me it bore a striking resemblance to a certain rock based ladyparts sweet item I was charged to purchase “for a laugh” for my Manager from Scarborough seafront last year.

 Freakish!

 

 On the way home, a friend accidentally knocked down a boy who was running across the road.  Luckily for him she wasn’t going fast, unlike most of the eejits who tear-arse up and down that street thinking they’re on Crenshaw Boulevard. 

   Dramatic medical times for a Friday night, which gave the natives something to tweak their nets over and more than the usual number of dog-walkers to appear and gawk at.  Not sure that it required 2 police vans, a squad car, an ambulance and a hospital car to turn up at the scene though! (although nice to see my council tax dollar being utilised in such a flamboyant fashion.)

At last check, both parties were doing ok, with the boy being kept in hospital at least overnight.  I hope he gets well very soon.  A stark Friday afternoon wake-up to my own Childerbeast who got to see first hand what happens when you don’t use the Green Cross Code.  For a change they weren’t lipping me with the lines like; “Yeah we know, you could get hit by a car blah blah blah”.

 

On a lighter note…

 

Having abandoned sending Xmas cards the last few years in favour of a donation to a worthy cause instead, I received my Good Gifts catalogue in the mail yesterday with a few different ideas from the usual buy a bunch of seeds or school supplies for underprivileged kids from Ghana, Borneo or Dewsbury or similar.

  Imagine my joy at seeing this picture on page 5.

The Bank That Likes To Say... "Bok bok bok"

 A bank run by chickens?    Brilliant! 

 Can you not just picture them in little shirts and ties?  Pecking away at their little keyboards.  With tiny pens on tiny chains that don’t work,  and asking you in their little clucky voices how you wanted your cash, while a senior looking cockerel in it’s own booth in the corner, dispenses sage advice to a young hen & her chicks about switching mortgages to a fixed rate?

Dare I even contemplate TV ads with hoards of them all singing in an X formation like the Halifax lot.     (You can see it in your mind I can tell, and if you can’t now, you will later when you see one of those Halifax ads.)

 Imagine then my disappointment at realising that actually ‘Chicken Bank’ is just a trick way of getting you to buy just a regular chook coop. 

Boring!

 

Now, however, you are talking…    A Bank That Deals Exclusively in Goats

Clearly this would only work for me if the tellers were also goats.  Or chooks.  Either would be fine.  Flamingo bank tellers would be the most awesome though of course.  Or parrots on skates (the ones who can ride bikes would be too busy with their courier jobs biking packages around London).

I think I need less wine.  Or possibly more………. I think I got up too early this morning.