Fish on friday

Yellop! That's 'hello' in Timmish, by the way. I'm just going to do a short one tonight because I'm excited about all the Hallow's Eve I'm going to be doing tonight, and also because I have some sausages with my name on them in the fridge (which is really why I bought them. You don't see your full name on a sausage every day).

Incidentally, it struck me that I might have offended some vegetarians with my very meat-centred bollog yesterday. Let me just say that if you are a vegetarian and you were offended, you can shove it in your carrot-hole. Yeah, that's right you with the humous. You know who else was a vegetarian? Hitler. Nuff said.

Anyway, for the last post of animal week I want to deal with an animal that is very close to my heart. It neatly branches the gap between warthog and catfish. It's called a dugong.

I love the dugong for many reasons. Here are a few.

• It's called a dugong.

Well, I say a few. One really. The word dugong comes from the Malay word 'lady of the sea', which is nice, because for a lady it really is a bit of a minger. Dugongs are very similar to manatees (the name manatee comes from an old central american language and means 'breast'. This too is brilliant), in that they both look like they've swum headlong into the back of a bus which was reversing along the seabed.

You may now be thinking 'Gosh, this handsome and erudite man sure knows a lot about dugongs'. If you are thinking that, then that's because I do. In my line of work you have to. Now stop thinking and listen. Read. Whatever.

The dugong's closest living relative is the elephant. That's pretty messed up, right? I mean, it's a swimming thing. And an elephant is a huge land thing. So at some point either this swimming thing got a bit cold and decided to get out, and then turned into an elephant, or an elephant fancied a dip, decided the water was lovely, and turned into a dugong. That's how evolution works, kids.

Elephants are cool. Have you ever ridden one? It's brilliant.

Dugongs used to be mistaken for mermaids by sailors. This is true, and pretty implausible. I reckon I would have had to be at sea for a pretty long time before i thought that this:

...looked like this:

Either that or all the sailors were so bored of going hilt-deep into the cabin boy every night that anything with curvy hips and a come-hither pout (and a dugong definitely has these) was worth a poke.

Anyway, that's all from animal week. Come back on monday when I will be grappling with a completely different hot sea-potato.

Enjoy halloween everyone!

This blog is produced in association with the awesome indie megagroup Buried in Pompeii, who are recording their first EP on Sunday. It is written by Dan, and is by no means a way of shamelessly promoting the scandalously brilliant indie thrustfest that is Buried in Pompeii.

You can't beat this meat

Hey! Another bollog coming right up.

As you may remember, this week I am talking about animals (and very adeptly too, if I may say so myself). However, animals aren't only fascinating when they're gambolling happily through fields, drinking water from limpid pools, or sitting on a blind woman's lap (who I have now noticed is wearing glasses. Strange). Animals are actually even more fascinating after they've been brutally killed, chopped up, lightly seasoned and slapped on a plate next to some potatoes.

So, today's bollog (bollog stands for badly organised literature lurking online, grrrrlfriend by the way) deals with that most delicious state of mortality - meat.

In order to make this more a blog and less the random ramblings of a mental incontinent, I decided to take some peoples' opinions. I asked a small selection of people the following question.

'Which animal, out of all the animals in the world, would you most like to eat.'

The results were varied, so I will address them one at a time.

Tim, my housemate, was straight in there with 'Boar'. When pressed for a more interesting answer, he was silent. He really likes boar.

Tom, the guitarist from the potentially world-famous band Buried in Pompeii, said 'Lamb.' Proving that, if anything, he is even duller than Tim. However, when pressed, he did suggest 'something spicier, like Man meat'.'

On the other end of the sexuality spectrum, Mik from my work answered immediately with 'Dita von Teese'.

I could have suggested to him that she might be good in a sandwich (with a raised eyebrow and knowing leer), but that kind of pun is way beneath me (and I've never leered in my life).

Lawrence, who sits behind me (at work, not all the time - he's not some kind of wheelchair-bound stalker), wanted 'something as rare as possible, so Panda then, please'. I'm with him on this. If the frigid bastards can't be bothered to copulate, they can at least keep my chips company while I wolf them down.

Pete, also from work, wanted 'Kudu'. This isn't a martial art, I was surprised to learn, but a kind of deer thing from Africa. They look delicious.

Apparently they taste 'like venison, but a bit more beef-like - really good' according to some source on the internet which I can't be bothered to link to. I'd be inclined to use the horns as twizzly kebab skewers, which would liven up even the stuffiest of dinner parties.

Louis, also from my work, wants to eat his cat. His cat is called Boosh, and he has already said on a number of occasions that he is planning to make her into a hat when she dies. Now, apparently, he is also planning to make her into a tasty snack too. When asked why he wanted to eat her, he said something like (although his distinctive dialect prevented me from getting a direct quote) 'It's what she would want, innit, and also it'll save me from buying cat food so everybody wins.' I'm not sure whether to report him to the RSPCA as a sort of pre-emptive measure.

Stephen, who shone in yesterday's blog by the way - well done Steve! - had a few suggestions. Horse was one, because he 'fcking hates them.' However, he also added, 'But I've already eaten horse and it's disgusting. Like their faces.' I myself have both eaten and ridden a horse when in Kazakhstan (not the same horse), and I vigourously refute his argument. They are lovely animals - good natured and sweet-faced beasts, which are best served with some kind of middle-eastern dip thing and some crusty bread.

Steve also suggested 'Honey badger, to see if it tastes like honey'. But this is just the kind of stupid thing he would say, so I stopped paying attention and went and did something else.

One of my longest-serving friends, Dave, who was in Kazakhstan with me (he got off his horse halfway through the ride, saying it 'made his balls hurt', and walked it all the way back to camp like an idiot) has also been vocal about which forbidden meat he'd like to eat (and not just because he's gay, which he very much is, although he wouldn't appreciate me making that lazy lazy joke, so sorry Dave if you're reading this which you aren't because you probably have something in your eye).

'Dolphin,' he said, on a beach in Goa. 'I want to eat a dolphin. Do you think there's any bits of dolphin in a tin of dolphin-unfriendly tuna?' I didn't bother to point out that tuna companies don't tend to market their product as specifically 'dolphin-unfriendly', preferring instead to keep quiet about the whole dolphins-stuck-and-drowning-horribly-in-big-nets unpleasantness. I did point out that they probably don't just dump the whole dolphin into a big mincing machine with all the tunas and stick the resulting slurry in a tin though. That happens on the Simpsons, not in real life.

I then went on to ask him why he wants to eat a dolphin. Turns out he has a theory that the cleverer the animal, the more delicious it is. I haven't seen Dave for a while, but I recently heard that he's just moved in next door to Professor Steven Hawking.

Anyway, those were the results of my poll. I may do another poll next thursday, keep an eye out for that. Personally, I would like to have a dodo jalfrezi, but I'm not able to because of the bloody Spanish. It seems, nowadays, that every time I want to do something I am cruelly prevented from doing it because of Spain and the damn Spanish. But more of that in the forthcoming 'Why Dan hates everything to do with Spain and the damn Spanish' bollog, coming soon. Anyway, if I had to choose an animal, I would have a zebraburger.

That's me for today. Sorry about the spacing and paragraphs, but I can't fix it and I'm hungry. Bye bye!

This blog is produced in association with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii. It is written by Dan, and has absolutely nothing to do with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii apart from sometimes when it does.

The Lunch-off! Plus special guest Bollogger!!

Hello, and welcome to Guest Wednesday!!! Appearing fresh from his stunning appearance in yesterday's blog, today's guest blogger is Stephen (of superelectroindierockband Buried in Pompeii fame).

However, being a lazy beast, Steve has drawn a small comic in MS Paint rather than actually taking the time to write anything. And I don't think this gives you enough Steve at all, not by a long shot. So, I have taken the initiative and flicked through my email inbox for more Stephen gold.

Stephen and I email each other occasionally throughout the working day, checking up with each other, discussing hilarious vending machine mishaps, that kind of thing. Today, Steve decided to give me a rather detailed blow-by-blow of his lunch break in email form. I responded in kind, feeling that my lunch-break was equally deserving of merit. So, below, I give you the Ste and Dan Inept Lunch-off. Enjoy.

Stephen's Lunch

By Stephen

So, my lunch. I missed the sandwich girl and my adventure began.

“Where’s the nearest shop?”

- “Oh…down the hill, left, left again at the lights, then up top of thunder lane”

- “Oh ok…so…what…10-15 min walk?”

- “Oh yeah, easily.”

- “Sweet, cyas in a bit”

And off I went. I went exactly as told until I stood at the bottom of Thunder Lane. This so-called lane - or should I say fcking mountain - looked like it would never end. So I started to turn back and realised I had no money, just a card, and couldn’t use my card to buy a £2 meal at the Oaklands. Okay, I could have, but the sheer stupidity of doing so was just too much, so I decided to give Mt Thunder a go. Ten minutes up the hill (fcking huge mountain) and I see a corner.

“YES!!! It must lead around to the shop…has to….can’t get much steeper than this.”

No, the corner led to another corner, to another. Soon enough I started to think the boys in the office were having a laugh, but I must push on, prove them wrong. There’s 1 shop for 10 houses is my theory, so if they were lying I’d soon find one anyway. So I continued.


“Hi, do you know where the nearest shop is?”

– “Yeaaa mate, juz keep on goin up the hill, and tis on the end matey”

– “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

– “Naaah mate, you got a problem? You want me to stick this in you?”

– “Sorry I don’t bend that way”.


Ok I made the last part of that up, so anyway, I pushed on knowing now that there is definitely a shop at the end of this road. Out of breath, with an aching smile, the shop appeared before me. I fell through the door.


“Excuse me, do you take cards?”

– “Certainly, but minimum spend is £10”

– “Oh f off, I just want a sandwich, jezus”

What I really said was “ah ok, well, alright.” So I bought:

• Heinz All Day Breakfast sandwich (artificial but nice)


• Two Pork Pies (ate one)


• Walkers Sensations – Szechuan Spice (rank)


• Extra Mints – Sugarfree (always handy)


• A Twix (nice)


• Peperami (haven’t eaten yet)


• PJ smoothie (strawberry flavour) (quite nice)

“That’s £9.18 please"

- “oh, I thought this added up to £10.20 or something”

– “Nah, fraid not, pork pies aren’t the price on the packaging, we sell them cheaper”

– “Oh…can I…..uh….have your daughter for 2 mins for 82p?” (legal age, looked nice, out back, again, didn’t say that)

– “ah ok, give me a packet of small golden Virginia”

– “Out of small ones I’m afraid, we have drum…amber leaf...”

– “Well I don’t fcking like them so no” (didn't say that)

- “Actually can I just go get a packet biscuits, one min”.

Finally, paid for, out of the shop, I cartwheel down the road back to the office, pull out a cattle prod and attack.

All in all, I’ll probably do it again as it’s a nice walk.

Dan's Lunch

By Dan

I went to the corner shop for lunch, which is a 15 second walk from my desk. I went in, got a sandwich, some crisps, a caramac and a can of diet coke. I went up to the counter and had to queue as a posh woman bought 200 Superkings for 48 quid. While this went on the queue stacked up behind me. Eventually it was my turn.

I put my things down and got a winning scratchcard out (£7) and gave it to the woman. I assumed she would realise that I wished to redeem the value on the card for the snacks in front of me and then receive some change, but she just stared at it like I'd handed her a dead goldfish. So I said to her, in my best speaking-to-thickies voice, 'Yeah, can I redeem that and get these with it?'

She went over to the machine and tinkered with it for about a minute as the queue started to lead out of the door, then turned round and said 'Sorry, but it says that this one doesnt win.'

I realised then that I was the thickie and had given her the one from yesterday, which indeed didn't win. I got out the winning one and gave that to her. That was fine. She spent a minute fiddling again while everyone behind me fantasised about kicking my head in and then eating my sandwich, then went to the till and gave me 7 quid, and turned to look at the next person. So I said, 'Sorry, can I get these as well?' and pointed to the things that had been sitting in front of her orange face for the last 5 minutes.

She rung them through the till as the queue as a whole fantasised about shoving my sandwich down my throat and then eating it when I was dead, then I handed her the fiver that she had just handed to me. She put it in the till, gave me my change. I dropped 20p of it on the counter, reached to get it, and knocked my crisps onto the floor.

I bent down to get them, which was tricky seeing as the shop was stuffed full of queue, put them in my bag with my other things, and went back to my desk.

The crisps were all broken and the sandwich wasn't very nice.

So there are our lunchtime emails verbatim. And, without further ado, Steve's comic.

Thanks Stephen!

Also, I might take this time to quickly plug our upcoming EP, which is probably going to be entitled 'Scissors Paper Nuke'. We are recording it on Sunday, and it will be available at our forthcoming gigs at the Queen Charlotte on the 6th November, and B2 on the 8th November.

Also, hello to this blog's first and only 'follower'! Thanks for following, though may I recommend you put some blogs on your page too? It's kind of the point, you see.

Finally, today is my blog's one week anniversary (or weekiversary). Hooray, and may there be many more!

This blog is produced in association with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii. It is written by Dan, and has absolutely nothing to do with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii apart from sometimes when it does.

Nature's Most Wanted

Good evening, and welcome to another outpouring. I'm intending to make today's post slightly more factual than my normal offerings, but that doesn't mean we can't still have fun! After all, what's funner than knowledge? I also have to thank Stephen, the drummer from my criminally under-rated band, for today's topic. Thanks Stephen, you're great!

5 Animals you aren't scared of, but definitely should be

#1 - Horse

Now, I used to laugh at Stephen when he said he was scared of horses. I mean, look at it. Doesn't that picture warm the stony cockles of your heart? (In case you were wondering, the horse is the one without a shirt on). That is a picture of a trained guide-horse, which confirms two things. For one, the world is a terrifyingly bizarre place, and for two, that woman will not be able to sue me for stealing her photo to use on my blog.

However, as she has entrusted her life to that equine monster sitting on her lap, she probably won't get a chance to. It's impossible to know for certain how many people are maimed and killed each year as a result of horses, but I know for certain that the figure is well in excess of a million. That's right. A million fellow people put to death by these placid-looking bastards. Want examples? Well, here you go.

Alfonso I of Portugal, along with being called Alfonso (titter) was injured falling from his horse in some battle or other, causing him to be captured and surrender a large part of his kingdom. Alexander III of Scotland was ridden off a cliff by his horse, indirectly causing the 1st Scottish War of Independence, in which at least one person was killed, and quite possibly more. Nero Claudius Drucus, brother of Caesar Tiberius and namesake of a successful coffee outlet, was killed by his horse. Horses have been used in wars for over 3,000 years, including the recent conflict in Darfur. And, most alarmingly, actor Christopher Reeve was paralysed after falling from his horse in 1995. That's right, horses are so bad-ass that they can paralyse Superman.

All of the above facts are completely true. Now, who's for pony trekking?

#2 - Hippo

The word hippopotamus comes from the greek word 'hippopotamus', which translates roughly as 'river horse', thus casting a nice journalisstic symmetry on my article. Thanks, Ancient Greece!

Like horses, hippos are deadly. But this time, they are actually seriously deadly. Hippos are the number one cause of wildlife related deaths in Africa, and that is the stone-cold truth. Deadlier than lions, deadlier than venomous snakes, deadlier than hyenas, deadlier even than ostriches (which are the number two cause of wildlife-related deaths. They kick their victims - usually ostrich farmers - to death. I know you don't believe me, but this is all totally true). Hippos are fiercly territorial, can run at 30mph, and can weigh up to 4.5 tons. That's as heavy as a Humvee. They lie submerged underwater for most of the day, only pausing to bite passing canoes in half, before retiring to the bank of an evening for a good-natured trample. Still not convinced. I'll go further. Hippos eat midgets.

Or dwarfs. Whatever.

#3 - Cassowary

These are BRILLIANT. Cassowaries are the only bird to make this list, and that's because if you were to call one 'Pretty Polly' and try to feed it a cracker, it would probably rip your guts out.

They live in Australia. They are about 6 feet tall. They have large colourful crests, razor-sharp dagger-like toes, and they are able to hunt in packs. Sound familiar? That's because they're the closest thing to a velociraptor that we have left on the planet.

To quote Dr Wikipedia:

'They are capable of inflicting fatal injuries to an adult human. Usually, attacks are the result of provocation. Wounded or cornered birds are particularly dangerous. Cassowaries, deftly using their surroundings to conceal their movements, have been known to out-flank organized groups of human predators. Cassowaries are considered to be one of the most dangerous animals to keep in zoos, based on the frequency and severity of injuries incurred by zookeepers.'

I don't think I need to convince you further, but if you have any doubt, have another look at the picture.

Yep. Terrifying.

#4 - Duck Billed Platypus

Yep, Look at it. The bloody stupid-looking fluffy thing with a bill on the front. It's a mammal, but it lays eggs. Basically, it's something god doodled on the toilet door while he was taking a five-minute poo break. When it was discovered in the 19th century, respected scientists thought it was a joke. That's how retarded it is.

Except it's also packing some serious heat. In its back legs, it has two dagger-like 'spurs' that can swiftly inject an excruciating venom cocktail into its hapless victim, leaving them incapacitated and in excruciating pain.

In short, it's a poisonous duck beaver with a serious inferiority complex. Nuff said.

#5 - Honey Badger

It's cute. It has a totally pornographic name. Stephen is terrified of it. It's a Honey Badger.

These things can kill crocodiles (only the small ones, but still). If you don't believe me, check. They eat venomous snakes for breakfast, then wolf down a scorpion for elevenses. They can use tools. They are officially considered to be the world's most ferocious animal. It's even rumoured that when fighting, male badgers focus their attacks on the other's scrotum.

They are so ferocious that they have actually earned the name 'Killer Badger' from the Iraqi people. Yes, Iraqi's are more scared of badgers than American forces. How's that impotence feel, Mr Bush?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Killer_badger

Of course, many people might say that I've missed out the most dangerous, destructive animal of all - Man. They would be wrong. A man is not an animal, it is a person.

Tomorrow is guest blog day. If I can find a guest blogger.

Today's article has been 100% factual. Normal bollogs will resume shortly.

This blog is produced in association with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii. It is written by Dan, and has absolutely nothing to do with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii.

Big Twat Live with Dan Up'n'Attenborough

Hello there, and welcome to Big Twat Live, coming at you live from my living room completely live as I live and breathe. As you might have guessed (although it's unlikely), the topic of this week's posts is going to be animals, in all their wondrous variety and splendour. Since I am odder than Bill Oddie and born to make Kate humble, I can't think of anyone better to educate you upon the glorious panoply of beasts that we share our world with. Today's topic - Urban Wildlife.




As you can tell from my expertly photoshopped picture above (who needs photoshop when MS Paint works just as well?), there is a particular urban beast that I'm thinking of. I speak, of course, about the Urban Fox.

Oft hailed as the most cunning of all animals (hence the phrase 'as cunning as a fox'), and occasionally described as the sexiest (hence the song 'Foxy Lady'), people are fascinated by foxes. And that's all well and good and quite harmless, unless you have taken the sexy thing a bit too literally and tried to awkwardly penetrate a fox behind some bins round the back of a nightclub. Which I have not. But staggeringly few people are aware of how dangerous the common fox (Foxus Eroticus, to use its Latin name) actually is.

In the country, people have feared foxes since medieval times, burning straw effigies on St Crispin's Day and conducting bloody wars against them on horseback dressed in the finest of regalia. However, in the city it is a different story. The staggering ignorance displayed by most city-dwellers when asked about the fox problem (the Red Menace, I call it) is stultifying. These metropolitan dullards literally have no idea of the destructive capabilities possessed by the little ginger tossers. Until now, that is.

Take a classic example. Your country fox, everybody knows, will break into a chicken coop and steal a chicken. However, did you know that an urban fox will break into your car to steal your stereo? No, thought not. And did you also know that he will probably sell the stereo to buy hard drugs, which he will then give to your children on the way to school? 'But I don't have children!' I hear you cry stupidly. Well, you will, my friends, and verily shall they be smackheads.

However, there is an answer to this bushy-tailed plague of fear. And I am going to give it to you straight (which was something I was unable to do for my last sexual partner, but more about my deviancy later) . So, here follows the Dan Up'n'Attenborough Guide to Urban Foxhunting as laid out by the Foxhunting Urban Coalition's Bill Of Behaviour (FUCBOB).

1. First, you will need to put together a tough young foxhunting team, preferably from the wrong side of the tracks. If they've spent their youth assaulting people, stealing and drinking heavily, they are probably possessed of the perfect mindset for dealing with the unfathomable evil of a fox.
2. You will then need to equip your team of thuggish freedom fighters with suitable steeds. A 50cc moped is generally considered to be the best tool for the job. Its manoeuvrability through tight alleyways and it's blistering straight-line speed will turn its rider into a fox's worst nightmare.
3. You will also need hounds. Pitbull terriers are good. They'll open a fox up like a tin of beans, pouring its ginger innards all over these mean streets.
4. Once you have chavs, peds and hounds, you are ready to fight the fox. Set off at dusk, and try to stick to the backroads. The faster you ride, the more chance you have of catching a fox unaware, so don't worry if you topple a pensioner or two. This is inevitable collateral damage, and they must be sacrificed for the greater good.
5. Once you have the fox in your sights, unleash your dogs. They will tear after it, baying furiously, and won't stop until they have it cornered (unless there's a nearby toddler to be mauled, of course. But there probably won't be, so that's ok).
6. When the fox is cornered, this is when you'll have to steel yourself. The best thing to do is approach the fox cautiously, camera-phone at the ready in case it tries to make any sudden moves. Once you are close enough, vigorously and repeatedly slap it across the face while your mates stand back at a safe distance and film the whole thing. When the fox is suitably subdued, you should either bury it in quicklime or incinerate it in a nearby wheelie-bin. This will prevent its corpse from reanimating - after all, the only thing worse than a fox is a zombie-fox.

So now you know what to do. And if you see a noisy gang of thuggish looking youths on mopeds at nightfall, you'll be able to doff your cap and say to them 'Well done, brave souls. I now know your true purpose. Godspeed.' They will appreciate your respect - after all, they're doing a dirty, dirty job.

Tomorrow on Big Twat Live - some other ballcrap. Goodnight!

This blog is produced in association with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii. It is written by Dan, and has absolutely nothing to do with the Indie Supergroup Buried in Pompeii.