El Sprengiko

An evening in the presence of greatness. Twice.

2011-07-10T18:39:00.000+01:00

Feeling quite frivolous during these times of austerity, I took the young lady over to Lords Cricket Ground, for a benefit dinner to celebrate the career of the great Muttiah Muralitharan.

And who else was there? Only my favourite cricketer, Kumar Sangakkara, who kindly posed for a photo and looked a bit freaked out when I told him he was my hero. Maybe it was the hair.

I also asked him to score a century at the following test match at the Rose Bowl, which he went on to do. I thought that was very kind.

A few weeks later Mr Sangakkara delivered the Cowdrey 'Spirit of Cricket' lecture, again at Lords, the first current player to do so. It was an impressive and powerful speech, about the history of Sri Lankan cricket against the background of its turbulent civil war. He drew a standing ovation from the assembled MCC members.

Again I bothered him for a photo, along with my date for the evening, Mr Steve Allen.

You can see the full lecture here

whataguy!

Egypt, football and revolution

2011-07-07T17:20:00.001+01:00

As a treat before my enforced freelancer month off (to avoid me getting worker rights, naturally) I was sent to Cairo to make a video about the revolution, through the prism of the Cairo derby - a football match between Al-Ahly, African club of the century, and their bitter rivals SC Zamalek. I met lots of interesting people, many of whom didn't make the final edit, and Mido. THE Mido.

All in all a great trip. Cairo manages somehow to be both utterly chaotic and the safest city I've ever visited, at least that was my impression.

And though far from perfect, I was fairly chuffed with the results too...

An arab immigrant in Europe

2011-05-09T17:17:00.002+01:00

I pulled an all-nighter at work to get this edit done (only for the deadline to move, naturally). I don't envy Mohammed: his journey from a small Tunisian town to Paris was pretty eventful and not altogether straightforward.

Of course it helps that he has movie-star charisma and more than a passing resemblance to my friend Steve.

Well I think so anyway...

SANCCOB African penguin conservation

2011-05-05T18:22:00.000+01:00

Here's a short video made on behalf of Bristol Conservation and Science Foundation (based at Bristol Zoo) on the work carried out in Cape Town by SANCCOB - The Southern African Foundation for the Conservation of Coastal Birds.

The African Penguin's numbers are in steep decline, but with the aid of SANCCOB's chick bolstering project, among other research methods being carried out, they have hope for the future.

An alternative look at the royal wedding

2011-04-30T17:14:00.002+01:00

Fed up of all the glossy coverage of the perfect wedding day?

Yearning for something a little less sycophantic?

Republican at heart?

Then look no further and chase the royal wedding blues away!

The Oldham East & Saddleworth byelection

2011-01-15T14:44:00.004Z

I travelled up to Oldham on Thursday, to make a video of the byelection. I was ably assisted by cameraman Chris Thomond, who knows the area and went out shooting the vote day with his lovely Canon 5D, while I sat in a gorgeous (depressing) Premier Inn, cutting his footage.

It was my first edit using 5D footage and I was seriously impressed with the visuals (the sound left a little to be desired!)

Unfortunately when I finished at 5am (the results came out at 2am) disaster struck. My export settings were a mess and I had massive issues sending a decent quality, error-free video back to the office. Cue several more exports, conversions and uploads, interspersed with 15 minute power naps and followed by an almighty 3hr upload from the confines of the Oldham Wetherspoons. Finally, about 4 hours after it stopped being newsworthy, the video made it online.

Which is a real shame, as it's a nice observational piece with some excellent characters to boot!

Bandro!

2011-01-08T21:51:00.001Z

We spent two months traversing Madagascar and videoing wonderful wildlife, but this was without a doubt the highlight of the trip - and the whole reason we went in the first place. We met wonderful people like Andry and Ndrina, ate like kings, enjoyed a complete lack of power and spent some quality time with our favourite type of lemur, the critically endangered Bandro.

And nine months later, I even finished the video!

Blue-eyed black lemurs on Guardian.co.uk

2010-08-03T19:41:00.003+01:00

Our video of blue eyed black lemurs made it onto the front page of Guardian.co.uk - a very proud moment!

Simply click here - to see it in its natural environment...

The Battle of Britain Fly-past

2010-07-24T18:39:00.001+01:00

Reg Nerps and I headed down to the river solent at Hythe, across from Southampton, to witness the commemorative flight of three World War Two planes, the lancaster, the spitfire and the hurricane.

Then, once home, Reg did a voiceover for me, and I cut it all together and edited it in the hope of getting into Kevin MacDonald's Youtube film. A hope that was not to be. But the video is still available for your viewing pleasure.

Lioness murders zebra in viscious, unprovoked attack

2010-07-01T18:28:00.000+01:00

The title says it all really. In broad daylight too! It them tried to cover its tracks by eating the remains. Even the local hyena policemen could do nothing to stop the lioness's brutality.

Oh, also, I basically missed the actual kill, for reasons outside of my control. However, in the edit suite, I realised I had in fact cought the kill. Sort of. Ish. When slowed down and zoomed in...

Anyway, anyone bloodthirsty enough should give it a watch, and then go back to the slightly more professional Attenborough stuff.

Bori Waziri's Serengeti

2010-06-30T18:10:00.002+01:00

Tanzanian tour God Bori Waziri talks us through all the animals you can see on safari in the Serengeti national park. And what's more, we saw them. Most of them.

Bori tells Emily Payne all about why hippos smell bad and just how he makes people feel better when they fail to see a male lion.

Fortunately, we saw a male lion.

Lake Manyara - Tanzania

2010-06-26T18:28:00.000+01:00

The first stop on our 4 day safari around Tanzania's Serengeti was Lake Manyara. Which I enjoyed immensely. It's just nice being driven around, basically, though the chance of seeing some rare and big animals was also something of a draw.

And we certainly got close to some elephants, which as far as I'm aware are some of the biggest animals going. They certainly looked big from such a distance...

No leopards though.

Snake Park - Tanzania

2010-06-23T18:24:00.000+01:00

Meet Rufus, a gentle snake, who loves nothing more than being tickled by a mazunga. Here at snake park they have a variety of, ahem, snakes. They also let you camp and drink their beer at very reasonable prices. Worth a stop on the way to the Serengeti methinks...

The Nile High Club

2010-06-20T18:43:00.001+01:00

At Uganda's extreme sports hub, Jinja, a few of us travellers went white water rafting, on the white nile. It was fun and I would definitely recommend it. So there.

They were charging a fair bit for copies of the video, but one of us mugs bought it and I proceeded to rip it and cut it down so only our group were featured. As we didn't know or care for the other people flailing around in inflatables.

I cut it to a different musical track and all, the somewhat suitable 'Current of the River' by The Young Knives. Unfortunately Youtube noticed this, and covered the damn thing with adverts as someone else owns the copyright to the song.

Not the first time I wished I had any musical ability myself.

Anyway, here's the vid we got wet in.

Rwandan Mountain Gorillas

2010-06-16T18:48:00.001+01:00

Quite a highlight of our African adventure was a trip up a big Rwandan volcano to see a group of Mountain Gorillas relaxing in the sun. Completely amazing creatures they are don't you know?

Rwanda is a brilliant country with a very sad history, but tourism on this scale is doing a great job of protecting the king of the beasts and I was only too happy to see my money go towards such a great cause.

We interviewed Vincent, our guide, who you'll hopefully be able to understand. He did speak so very very quietly.

Chimpanzees in the Trees

2010-06-15T18:32:00.000+01:00

Quite possibly the worst video I have ever shot, we went looking for chimps in Kibale, Uganda. We then saw the chimps, so that was nice. But boy were they a bugger to film on a crappy little camera like mine. And so far away!

Still, I couldn't resist making a video anyway, because generally I'm that way inclined. Sorry.

Croc Farm: A farm... FOR CROCODILES!

2010-06-10T21:47:00.000+01:00

Our last morning in Madagascar saw us head to Croc Farm, in Ivato (near the airport). As well as housing 10,000 crocodiles waiting to be turned into kebabs or handbags, the farm is home to a variety of endemic Madagascan species including the elusive fosa.

Nymph of the Grot asked some questions in French of the groundsman, Robin. who was a thoroughly nice man.

We got told off for filming there, and almost had to give our tape to the receptionist - but somehow managed to get away with it. Probably because we confirmed we wouldn't be receiving any money for the video. We left in such a rush that we weren't able to tip Robin, which was a bit naughty.

Ring-tailed lemurs at the Anja Reserve

2010-05-27T22:03:00.003+01:00

Anja reserve is a small, community-run project that uses ecotourism to directly improve the lives of the local people, and the local lemurs. The ring-tailed lemur is probably the most famous of all lemurs and I got some nice close ups, while struggling to understand the broken English of Adrien, one of the creators of the reserve and a jolly fine fellow to boot.

Dadalira

2010-05-24T18:16:00.000+01:00

In Ranomafana ('hot water'), central Madagascar, there are hot springs (inevitably), a lovely patch of forest, and a really really old man.

The man is called Dadalira, and he plays a strange Malagasy box guitar thang. It's fair to say he plays it quite badly, but he is REALLY old.

We met him about 30 minutes before we were due to leave the town, so I quickly got my camera out and videoed him as he played, and got him to say a few words for us. I had no idea what he said until I got home, but I assumed it was interesting.

Off camera, we asked him the secret to old age. Apparently (again, a translation) he said it was being a vegetarian and knee exercises.

We can only assume he's right.

The Old Man And The Sea

2010-05-20T18:53:00.002+01:00

After a fairly hardcore time of it wandering around the uninhabited areas of the Sahamalaza peninsular of Northwest Madagascar, we decided we needed to pamper ourselves.

So we flew out in a tiny plane to an exclusive resort where we were one of only four couples. The beach was deserted, the food was fantastic and we had a lovely time.

We also met Jean-Yves, a wise old Frenchman, who was only too happy to wax lyrical about his love of all things marine. So we videoed him and made this short doc. Which I like very much.

Whataguy!

Taxi Brousse Almighty!

2010-05-20T18:14:00.000+01:00

To try to take the pain out of an overnight bush taxi journey from Mahajanga in Western Madagascar to the capital Antananarivo, we decided it would be fun to sporadically record our thoughts on the journey into a microphone, and later cut them together with images from our Malagasy adventure.

It didn't really work as a pain removing device (or indeed a video) but we did it anyway, and here are the results...

Park Mitsinjo, Andasibe

2010-05-13T18:23:00.000+01:00

One of three patches of forest near Andasibe in eastern Madagascar is Park Mitsinjo. They have a conservation project there aimed at re-linking the three forests so the endemic animals can move between them as they will have done before deforestation separated the forests.

Our guide, Evereste, talks us through the projects and gives us his knowledge on the local lemur species, the Indri, the largest surviving lemur, and the brown lemur, the least interesting lemur.

He also talks about the Parson's Chameleon a bit. And I put in a shot of a giraffe-necked weevil too, for good measure.

Lemur Island

2010-05-10T18:35:00.001+01:00

When we got home from our African travels, this was the video I was most excited about editing. Mainly because it has a nice shot of a 'Bandro' Alaotran Gentle Lemur jumping for a piece of banana in my hand.

I'd read somewhere that youtube selects the dead centre frame of any given video as one of it's three thumbnail options. So I painstakingly made the jumping shot right slap bang in the middle. I even used a calculator to get the exact frame I wanted.

It didn't work. But it was still a fun video to put together. They have such soft hands, those cheeky lemurs. I love them like brothers.

What A Wonderful World

2010-04-28T18:19:00.001+01:00

The first night of our epic adventure in Madagascar saw us having dinner at a small restaurant, where the evening's entertainment was a strange man with an even stranger voice. His grasp of the English language left a little to be desired, but he earned full marks and a few ariary for effort with this timeless Louis Armstrong classic...

Then we had ice cream for desert and spent the following day in bed.

Punk Trainspotting with Captain Sensible

2010-04-22T19:44:00.002+01:00

'The Damned' guitarist Captain Sensible is a big fan of trains. So I pitched him to the Guardian. And here are the results...

Exotica Records

2010-04-15T21:14:00.000+01:00

I headed down to south east London with punk legend Captain Sensible in tow, primarily to trace the route of the old Croydon Canal from London Bridge to West Croydon.

On the way we stopped off in Forest Hill, home to Jim Phelan's Exotica Records - purveyors of handmade album artwork, bizarre Beatles covers, and rare football records (especially Man Utd..!) And here are the results of our detour.

Showreel

2009-11-16T12:02:00.000Z

I finally got down to doing a showreel of some of my work. And here it is, in compressed youtube form...

November Reign

2009-11-11T12:07:00.001Z

As one of my hobbies is doing other people's hobbies, I jumped at the chance to drive up to Telford at the weekend to watch Ryan 'Dunnster' Dunne fight in his first semi pro MMA, erm, fight.

In the words of Michael Jackson, I'm a lover, not a fighter, and I certainly felt a little out of place with my long hair, surrounded by tattooed skinheads in a warehouse on an industrial estate near Birmingham.

Nevertheless, I battled on (metaphorically) while Ryan battled on (literally). Here, fight correspondent Steve Collins presents his report of the night.

Making spoons

2009-10-20T12:26:00.004+01:00

I headed down Camberwell way with Nymph of the Grot and Random Boy to make a spoon out of a lime tree, with the excellent artisan, Nic Webb.

Here's young Nymph-o kicking things off by sawing the trunk in half...

Several hours of whittling later, and the three of us had basically made weirdly shaped spoons. Mine is the small one- suitable for transporting a testicle, or perhaps winning an egg & spoon race (were you to find a suitable egg).

Nympho's is my favourite of the three (Random Boy's just didn't look practical) though mine has the best bowl. Hers would be suitably used as a spanking paddle, midget's oar, or for transporting significant quantities of cocaine.

The Man With The Golden Gun

2009-09-29T18:08:00.002+01:00

What happens when you go to France, drink too much, and play a HILARIOUS trick on one of your friends over a game of charades?

This is what happens. THIS. Lady Jim Gray felt quite the fool when he realised we all knew which film he was camply acting out. But before all that was six minutes of absolute joy for the rest of us...

QED Market - London's Southbank

2009-08-03T18:22:00.001+01:00

I headed down to the Southbank the other day, to make an atmospheric video of the QED market.

Totally recommended! The food and drink was fabulous, and the video went OK too!

Ben's Stag Do (Part Six - Night)

2009-07-10T16:36:00.000+01:00

All good things, as they say, must come to an end.

Having lost the light we made the trek back up to the campsite, complete with fire in tow (nice work Mr. Hud...) back near the safety of the tents, James spotted a UFO and mused a little about aliens, while I mused on the highlights and lowlights of the weekend.

Everyone else slowly went to bed, leaving Shaun and I to cook his fingers. Then our stag Ben returned, with cramp in his leg. Shaun beatboxed and got him to dance a little, which solved the problem. And that was that.

Ben's Stag Do (Part Five - Beach)

2009-07-09T16:35:00.000+01:00

All that sport meant we were in need of a break, so we left the campsite and headed for the beach, where the sun came out, we made hay (not literally) ad then the sun went in again and it pissed it down. So we went inside a cave and hung about looking miserable, while James climbed a rock.

A little bit of Iranian research...

2009-07-09T13:38:00.002+01:00

In an attempt to resolve the 'Iranian problem'... I did this.
Mental.

Ben's Stag Do (Part Four - Sport)

2009-07-08T16:34:00.000+01:00

Being healthy young males, we worked off our delightful breakfast with a mixture of professional sports. We played Sack Hackey - a game similar to hackey sacks but requiring less skill, cricket (not depicted), and football (shirts v skins - skins ending up complete losers).

We also bought some food and lots of drink, which Steve carefully displays.

Ben's Stag Do (Part Three - Breakfast)

2009-07-07T16:33:00.000+01:00

Then we only went and had breakfast... Which took ages, largely because we couldn't light the fire. We tried everything... Wood... Paper... Books... Then some bright spark admitted they had firelighters, and the rest was history.

Ben's Stag Do (Part Two - Morning)

2009-07-06T16:31:00.000+01:00

We woke up and got up. Some people had already been for a surf. Others were trying to find their toothbrushes. It was wet. Steve met Steve.

Ben's Stag do (Part one - Arrival)

2009-07-05T17:33:00.003+01:00

As Best Man for the wedding of the century, I had the dubious honour of organising the stag do. Which I did BRILLIANTLY (awfully).

We arrived in Porthcothan Bay in the middle of the night to an almighty scene. It was all kicking off!

Sadly, by the time I had located my video camera it had all stopped kicking off, so we were left to muse over recent incidents, welcome everyone to the campsite, whisper a lot, and eat some brie and mango wraps.

Which we all did MAGNIFICENTLY. Before heading of to bed at the faintest hint of rain.

The Tiny Nazi

2009-07-01T18:17:00.001+01:00

During a well earned lunch break from walking the Welsh hills, Clive notices something in Lenka's hair...

Hilarity and tragedy, in equal parts, ensue.

The Hand at Llanarmon

2009-07-01T16:23:00.000+01:00

For a place to stay in North Wales, I heartily recommend 'The Hand' at Llanarmon. It's located in blissful peace, is run by very friendly management, serves up great food and drink, and has an interesting backstory to boot.

The tallest waterfall in Wales

2009-07-01T16:21:00.000+01:00

We took a trip to Pistyll Rhaeadr, Wales's highest waterfall. But where exactly is it? And is that a mermaid in the pool beneath? Questions, questions...

A short walk in the Berwyn Mountains

2009-07-01T16:20:00.001+01:00

Nymph of the Grot and myself went for a wander through the quiet, picturesque and idyllic Berwyn Mountains, in North Wales. I huffed and puffed and swore at sheep, while Payno enjoyed the flowers and got a bit wet. Then disaster struck, and I lost her down an old mine. RIP.

Pontcysyllte Aqueduct

2009-06-29T18:12:00.000+01:00

The latest addition to UNESCO's World Heritage Site list - This aqueduct is really old and watery.

Nymph of the Grot explains more, and then interviews a man.

Email Addresses Analysed

2009-06-18T18:31:00.000+01:00

OK, own up, which category do you fit into?

(And no, I don't know what an ampersand is!)

Tsk.

Top four transformers

2009-06-15T18:28:00.000+01:00

Not from the brandified film franchise, but the classic toy range. Excellent writing this... IMHO...

Boating in Bath - epilogue

2009-06-15T16:18:00.001+01:00

Finally, everyone put down their weapons, wiped their crying eyes, and agreed we'd had fun. But nobody told Shaun, who was convinced he had been witness to one of the great 21st century disasters.

Did anyone see a ghost?

Steve Allen soon lightened the mood by requesting a drink. Nice work Steve!

Boating in Bath - part four

2009-06-15T16:16:00.000+01:00

Back on dry land we were keen to assess the damage. It got pretty heated from there, fights broke out, people began to cry, and we all felt fairly depressed at the day's outcome. So much hope, dashed.

Boating in Bath - part three

2009-06-15T16:14:00.000+01:00

Our time at the pub over, we headed back down that treacherous patch of river to the safety of the boathouse.

Tensions escalate as a healthy mix of alcohol and chauvinism reach fever pitch, while Steve Allen comfortably eats a banana.

Boating in Bath - interlude

2009-06-15T16:12:00.000+01:00

I took a short break from the debauched frivolity to head out onto the sluice with Steve Collins, a local historian, who wanted to give me a bit of historical perspective on the area.

I soon discovered this was all a front and his motives were far more sinister...

Boating in Bath - part two

2009-06-15T16:10:00.001+01:00

After a treacherous journey upstream, the motley crew of boaters relax and collect their thoughts at a nearby public house, The Bathampton Mill.

Boating in Bath - part one

2009-06-15T16:08:00.001+01:00

A whole massive group of brilliant people headed for a weekend in Bath, and spent a beautiful Saturday rowing up the Avon to a pub, drinking in aforementioned pub, and then rowing back down the the boathouse.

The first part of this epic adventure is captured in this short video.

The best modern North Koreans

2009-06-08T18:30:00.000+01:00

Who will win in this definitive list??? Edges of your seats chaps!

The home of free irony

2009-06-01T18:38:00.003+01:00

There's certainly something fairly ironic about the Facebook group used to promote Sun Talk (Jon Gaunt shitspouting vehicle) being 'closed'. Surely you're not expecting nice liberals to sign up and freely speak about what a tw*t ole Gaunty is..?

Another classic bit of bull from The Scum!

Top Four Numbers!

2009-05-28T18:36:00.002+01:00

1239

01240

45819365147

86517

4156478

956465784396

5437

65782364736

7813264736173

246547386

57894657

298674657

16758

6143716517

8436537864736454

786374

613784965

9378610387643050137

8618972

645718035678613

894

7328917463274

674567832657328

3907135

647823811280

14768

76257

31641098

274

2190

but which is best?

abundant: The Showreel

2009-04-30T17:06:00.003+01:00

abundant are an excellent multimedia company. This is what they do.

Now call them up and offer them money!

The best newspaper headlines, ever!

2009-04-30T16:43:00.001+01:00

The definitive list, as decided by... ahem... me.

My 'working holiday' to the badlands of Afghanistan

2009-03-31T15:08:00.003+01:00

Marines fire a Javelin rocket. It missed. But this was all to come.

(Sorry about the length - I'm no editor...)

(Pictures by official S*n photographer Simon Jones where stated)

Starter: Dubai

The trip didn't begin well. A miserable ride, at miserable o'clock, to a miserable airport - followed by a miserable flight, on a miserable airline, to a miserable city. Sandwiched between the various misery I spilt a fresh cup of coffee all over myself, sat in chocolate (I hope it was chocolate) and wasn't entertained by the in flight entertainment thanks to a dodgy headphone socket.

Upon landing in Dubai things didn't get much better, as we were treated to the very best that customs had to offer, courtesy of our bullet-proof vests being stopped on account of their being a weapon...

On the plus side, I learnt that TND's middle name is Zoltan, and was treated to what I later came to know as a vintage piece of TND anger as he failed to speed up the process. It could have been worse. A local had also been stopped for importing kids' walkie-talkies. Another birthday ruined no doubt...

Surely things couldn't continue in this vein? They didn't. A short cab ride after having our Kevlar confiscated, and we were in the Dubai Hilton, buying swimming shorts (I hadn't thought to bring mine to war) in order to take a swim in the rooftop pool. We celebrated with a beer, before heading down to the bar for more beer and some mini burgers. Nine in total, three apiece, and plenty of ammunition to confuse our waitress.

Hotel room in Dubai

Already I was fluctuating rapidly between genuine excitement and mild terror at what was in store over the next couple of weeks, largely thanks to the power of the unknown. But I went to bed firmly in the excited camp, thanks to the power of the beer.

Main: Afghanistan

Breakfast was an espresso and a pint of water. Hmmm. Slight hangover, must be the time difference... Food was going to be a problem for the next week or so, but I didn't realise that yet. So I ate a modest McDonalds, as TND and Simon the snapper argued over who was going to finish 4th in the premier league. I got the deciding vote and thus abstained.

Kabul sits in a crater of land surrounded by mountains, This, I noted as we descended into the city. It seemed like a good time to do so, and I did it with subtle yet unashamed gusto. The airport was warm and fairly busy. Now in the hands of the Afghans, an official looking party greeted us getting off the plane. Actually they were here to greet someone else, chalk it up as another disappointment. We took the shuttle bus all of thirty metres to the terminal - these guys are sticklers for the rules - and suddenly were met by a barrage of trolley wielding locals, intent on intercepting our baggage. No such luck. We were out of the main hall fairly quickly, oblivious to the necessary paperwork we had also bypassed that would cause me (and only me) problems on the way out.

We waited outside the airport for our taxi for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality around 45 minutes. I had a nervous few moments as a man loitered a few metres away fingering a loaded revolver. In hindsight it was my ignorance that allowed this reaction, as the airport is suitably heavily guarded but his genuine disinterest appeared at first quite threatening and he was soon on his way.

TND & Simon at the airport

Upon the arrival of our car we hauled our baggage the three hundred metres or so out to the car park. Our driver, struggling with the weight of TND's bag eventually accepted the help of a local armed with a trolley, the most incapable looking trolley of a particularly bad bunch, it was like being at Asda. A pretty nervy journey as it wasn't obvious where the airport security ended and the mean streets of Kabul began. My guess is it didn't begin, at least until we were in the car. Though not the one sent for us - that, a hatchback, was far too small for us and all our belongings. And our two drivers. Thus we commandeered a people carrier, re-loaded our various bags, and were on our way. It's easy to forget that behind all the war we were dealing with a regular third world country, and thus we worked to their standards and logic.

The drive to the hotel was odd. I was very aware of our helplessness should a would-be-assassin politely decide to blow himself up nearby, though our vehicle was suitably average looking, not like the four wheel drives that are customarily targeted. I sat quietly on the back seat vainly willing my complexion darker.

Kabul itself is a hideous city. Busy, dusty, devoid of immediately obvious charm, and, one suspects, well-hidden charm too. The streets are strewn with concrete and rubble, no doubt thanks to the war. People and cars move in every direction, children play football on any dusty void, while markets selling junk and food that my western snobbishness would decree inedible litter the roadsides.

Fortunately upon arrival at the hotel I was happy with the levels of security - we had to get through two huge gates, guarded by rifle wielding locals, and an x-ray machine, before even getting into the courtyard, an oasis of calm twenty metres from the entrance. Such fortune was not without its cost - security had indeed been ramped up since a successful attack several months back. When I saw the room bill I understood how they could afford such a swift turnaround.

Our flight out of Kabul was scheduled for the small hours of the morning (all armed forces flights take place at night it would seem) so we booked into a shared room where we could relax for the intervening hours - a twin room, it should be noted, so I received the customary third berth, a camp bed in the corner. The wait was long and fairly boring, watching cricket and trying to sleep.

Our lift arrived at 1am, and suddenly we were embedded. The lateness coupled with my drowsiness gave the encounter a slightly surreal feeling. An American soldier met us in the lobby and took us to the army jeep, which subsequently transferred us back to the airport - this time on the military side.

Driving through the dead of night in Kabul, with nobody around, was a strange contrast to the bustle of earlier on. We took the checkpoint route, through a dozen or so barricades and along deserted concrete lined streets that felt like a huge urban paintballing scene. Once under the wing of the armed forces I felt immediately safer, quite possibly a placebo but there is certainly a comfort that trained fighters bring to the table. Maybe it's the uniforms.

Our aero issues rejoined us at the airport, a fairly suitable place for them to do so. Our flight to Helmand Province had departed some hours earlier so after much deliberation and some TND phone action we instead took the plane to Kandahar, hoping for a connection to Camp Bastion in the morning.

At around 3am we boarded the plane, a huge roaring Hercules, the noise deafening, the lighting green, the earplugs handy and the journey a tired one. An hour or so later we safely touched down and headed to a waiting room with breezeblock décor to be reunited with our luggage and a welcome cup of tea. By now it was gone four and I was shattered. Cue an interrupted 3hr kip that was to be the rule rather than the exception from here on in.

Me in a Hercules (you'll have to take my word for it)

After splashing some water on my face and brushing my teeth at some ungodly hour we took breakfast in the Kan-teen, the fry up only serving to make me feel worse. But there was work to be done, and we were soon in our first briefing, interesting for me but painful for the seasoned pros I was with (understandably so by the time they got on to photographs of their squadron with the queen...) Quite what happened to our speedy departure to Bastion I have no idea.

We were to go on patrol, and soon headed out to meet our vehicles (ours was the big one in the middle which I liked!) It was of course a tight squeeze inside but we were off quickly, with my head poking out the top and not feeling too concerned about it - probably thanks to the firepower on our side.

The patrol started interestingly, as it was all new to me. We slowly meandered through the vast dusty nothing, stopping to check for mines (a laborious and utterly dull process I would not wish to repeat every day) and also to 'socialise' with the local kids, who demanded sweets, pens and a look through my lens. Incidentally the pens are not indicative of their interest in education, more a status symbol - the more pens the better. Either way all this 'action' is nice for the tourist, less so for the journalist.

Unfortunately once the novelty had worn off we still had another five hours to bear, in the blazing heat and cramped surroundings until finally, squashed, shattered and sweaty, we were allowed to return to the base. Cue the obligatory shower, food and brief kip before preparing to finally leave for Helmand and camp Bastion.

Helmand itself is certainly far removed from Kandahar, both geographically and stylistically. Where Kandahar had buildings, Helmand was all about tents. Big, heavy duty, perma-tents, but tents nonetheless. It was also amazingly dusty. There was no way my camera was getting out of here alive, with or without its sweat inducing, focus restricting cover. We arrived in customary darkness, waiting for what seemed like forever for our belongings, finally turning in (in our personal tents-within-industrial-tents) at around 2am.

After an 'ok' night’s sleep we were out for breakfast in the morning, which I ate very little of, before out to spend the day distributing newspapers to the troops. First up were the viking personnel and engineers, the most laddish bunch I had seen so far. Later I made the mistake of calling the Vikings 'Panzas' - I knew full well this was a second World War German tank, but somehow neglected to tell myself this before opening my mouth. TND was not massively impressed, and understandably so.

We also dropped papers off at the hospital (somewhere I'm not keen to return to), ambulance HQ, and NAAFI, where TND found a girl he decreed 'the beauty of Bastion'. He and the snapper Simon would spend the next week or so trying to convince her to do an interview, on the sole grounds that she was attractive. How S*n…

Comically, we weren't actually able to give out any of the papers we were 'giving out' on the grounds that the full batch hadn't yet arrived, so we posed for photos and then took the papers with us to the next venue. All very apologetically of course.

Back at the tent and we met our press office / minder, Alex who would be responsible for us on our 5 day op. He scared me a little (in hindsight this was bravado) and said 'hoofing' lots. Lots and lots and lots. Too much in fact. Way too much.

In the evening I edited two videos and sent them off, which after all the preparation and waiting, I was quite chuffed about really.

Wednesday soon arrived, and with it another opportunity to eat barely any food. From there we hotfooted it over to meet the I.O.D. Mine clearers, who were giving a training course to the new arrivals. Some of this we weren't allowed to video, for security reasons, but I was able to watch a metal detector demonstration, which was certainly the most boring thing I'd seen while out there (actually, I was quite interested, but the video wasn't).

Later I cut that together, but suffered something of a backlash from TND when we realised my editing all these videos together (particularly the patrol one) had created more work for him, and a "waste of time" at that. I apologised but didn't really mean it - I came out to make videos, so videos I shall make!

Uploading things on the Sat Phone at Camp Bastion

That evening we met Lt Col Charlie Strickland, who would be leading our operation into a Taliban controlled area. He gave us some background and detail, all pretty scary, but he was very nice which softened the blows a little. After another barely eaten dinner we met more of the marines we would be with – also very nice. Unnerving stuff. Later I went to the NAAFI for some Imodium (!) says all you need to know about the rest of the night, really. I went to bed that evening convinced of my ineptitude for the situation. Always feeling ill, a little sore here and there, can’t eat, can’t stop shitting, and convinced I was going to die. Did I really have the stamina for 24-hour warfare?

I found out soon enough. After cutting together a video from the previous operation, with testimonies from the press officer and Sgt Major (a brilliant chap called Ed), I spent far too long attempting to get it cleared by the Pic, and also send a decent version back to the office. In the end, with 11pm fast approaching, and knowing that I had to get my head down before a 3am start, I gave up, and got into my sleeping bag for a predictably poor night of worry.

To be honest, the next three days went past in something of a blur. We were up at the crack of dawn and the adrenaline kicked in. I thin it’s fair to say it stayed with me until I was back at base, though it certainly fluctuated in its potency. The key facts to emerge are firstly that I survived (the further away I am from the event the more I wonder if I was ever really in THAT much danger – OK, we were shot at, but what are the chances, really..?) Secondly, the operation was a complete success – so much so that we returned two days early, having achieved all objectives.

The word filtered through from intelligence that 150 odd Taliban were killed, quite a horrible thought in many ways, as I was witness to death, though fortunately from afar. The worst injuries sustained by ‘our side’ (!) were a couple of guys who got shot at close quarters – one in the arm, one in the leg/crotch, though both were expected to make a full recovery (though perhaps minus a foreskin in one case – it’s amazing how far some people will go for circumcision!). A Danish soldier managed to bang his head on a tank (when it drove over an IED), and an Afghan Special Forces guy managed to shoot himself in the foot. Literally. Which was possibly as embarrassing as it was painful. The only other injury of note was that TND managed to twist his ankle on a night march, and a few minutes later managed to fall asleep mid-walk. He maintained he fainted, but others claim to have heard snoring. I certainly heard a thud, which was most alarming in the pitch black, where the only noise is dogs barking in neighbouring compounds.

Anyway, I suppose I should mention as best I can what the operation was about. We were witness to the briefing before we went out, where a large map was laid out on the floor of a huge warehouse, and various high-ranking officials took it in turns to lay out the strategy. The essence was that we would land early morning, make our way into the Green Zone, and begin moving through the compounds. Much of the operation depended on what sort of resistance we met, though we would be moving at night, in order to pop up all over the ‘town’ (I suppose it was a town, though obviously there was no high street with WH Smith…) surprising the enemy and ‘creating doubt’ in their minds.

The operation was basically aimed at a show of power – we had no objective to maintain or lock down permanently – that would be left to the rising number of troops in the summer operations.

And so it was that we awaited our flight from the helipad, at around 4am. Ours was one of the last to leave, a positive in my book as with any luck the landing site would be suitably cleared, if indeed that was required, by the time we touched down. My main concern was leaving the chopper and not running directly into the tail rotor blade, which would have had a negative effect on my skull.

Arrival in the Green Zone (Simon Jones)

We landed in a poppy field, quite blown away by the down force of the chopper. It soon departed, and we were left with a leisurely entrance to battle, moving in single file across the dusty plains and over the river into the Green zone. This point was my first real worry, as we were being shot at as we went – one by one – across the bridge. I should point out at this juncture that though ‘being shot at’ conjures up images of certain death, the Taliban were such a distance away that it was hugely inaccurate fire. That said it was still a terrifying prospect.

Once over the bridge we found a secluded area and waited once more. Between the frantic moving about were plenty of lulls, where it was possible to sit, gather your thoughts, and shoot some pretty shots. (Ish). Unfortunately we had chosen a spot in the firing line (again, far from the action) but upon finding out we promptly moved to a safer location.

From this point on the marines went about their searching of compounds, while we followed close (but not too close) by. We came across a stream almost straight away. No messing about, the way to cross is walk through. Cue lots of wet feet. Fortunately in the first compound, which had already been cleared, I was able to stop for a few minutes, wring out my socks, and compose myself once more. I had to compose myself a fair amount during these three days…

The calm before the storm

We were able to follow a troop as they cleared a few compounds, kicking down doors and exercising exemplary professionalism in doing so – say what you like about the armed forces, but even a pacifist like me was impressed by the manner in which they carried out this dangerous and unnerving routine.

Many of my subsequent memories are merged into each other, to the point that I don’t recall what happened when, but I shall do my best to recount them anyway! Any downtime we spent in ‘safe’ compounds was time for relaxing, sleep (if possible), eating (if possible), and I was very grateful for the breaks when they came – though was still in the ‘not possible’ phase of any of the above.

Marines snake their way towards Marjah (Simon Jones)

Later in the day we were moving between compounds, when shots rang out. It hadn’t occurred to me how much of a sitting duck I was, in the wrong coloured clothing (grey / blue not sandy), midway across a poppy field. Again, the marines’ professionalism was displayed in no uncertain terms as they first spotted some men who were engaging with them, then managed to move us behind the relative safety of a wall, before launching a javelin rocket at their target. It worked, and we were left the relatively simple task of crossing a street and into a separate compound, where a slightly more permanent form of safety beckoned.

At the time this was a pretty scary experience, as I had no idea what to expect. Crossing a road where we may or may not have been shot at, this time from much closer range, was terrifying, though the adrenaline just kicks in as you need it, and there’s nothing to do but what you’re instructed, which makes decision making a hell of a lot easier.

TNS crossing a road / being shot at (Simon Jones)

Once this episode was over and we were in the compound it was dinnertime. First I went for an alarmingly potent shit, which I did out back where I had no idea if I was safe. I hid the giant turds under rocks and returned to the shelter, where I tried and failed to eat a chicken chilli.

Soon enough we were on the move again, to another compound at which we were to stay the night. About time too – it had been a 20 hour day on very little sustenance. In relative comfort we were able to get our heads down for a few hours, though in the small hours of the morning it was time to move again, and out onto the dreaded night hike. It’s an utterly terrifying experience. Dogs bark as you pass, you make slow progress as those at the front of the group have to constantly check for bombs, and of course you can see absolutely nothing. You really have to put your faith in those that have night vision goggles, and not stray too far from the person in front (or behind). The constant stopping, waiting, putting down backpacks, picking up backpacks and so on was a drain on both my mental and physical state, but a necessary evil, and one that I was very grateful to be over when, a couple of hours later, we were in a new compound for a few more hours.

Morning came, as inevitably it has a habit of doing, and we were on the move again, but not before I had vomited up my breakfast – the first full meal I had eaten in a week or so. I held down an energy bar instead.

Marines and poppies (Simon Jones)

We made our way across more fields, when once again the terrifying click of AK-47 triggers came out of the air. In hindsight this was my worst moment. Ducking down into ditches with heavy backpacks on I felt like a tortoise stuck on its back, slowly, painfully struggling to move in the mud. We managed to get behind a wall, but panic was the order of the day and we could tell from the marines that this was serious. It didn’t help that an army troop, who had neither the training nor the experience of the marines, was with us. A confusing few minutes ended when a plan was hatched, to move back around a further wall and complete another road crossing. It happened very quickly, though the palpable fear was something I hadn’t noticed so acutely, which certainly intensified matters. You’re never more alive than when you’re close to death...

Nevertheless, we were soon across the road, ending up in an old school that had not seen any children for a while. This was to be home for a few hours, and I was grateful for the protection it afforded us, and the chance to compose myself once more. The war was certainly going on nearby, and the guns on the roof of the building were making serious noise. It was an intense environment to be in, and on the occasions that I moved around – into different rooms to get new shots, outside for a wee, etc, I didn’t hang about!

TND with a Taliban calendar (Simon Jones)

At times it felt like we were under siege in the school, with Taliban all around us, and IEDs being disposed behind, but nevertheless It got to the point that I didn’t want to leave, such was the feeling of safety guaranteed by some may troops with so many guns (not to mention moustaches!) But inevitably a few hours on we were on the move again, across more field in the afternoon Sun and into a further compound where I made a short video about a dog that had had its ears cut off. Quite a surreal experience given the circumstances, but one that I was grateful for!

One dog, no ears

Another night, another march (the one where TND did his ankle and his reputation some small damage) though before this was a fierce nighttime battle that honestly scared the crap out of me. You can see the tracer bullets in the dark, so you know how close they are. Despite odds heavily stacked in our favour, it got quite hairy as night moved in, especially for those on the roof, in direct line of fire. We were left counting our blessings that nobody got hit – it could have ended very uncomfortably to say the least.

By this point out photographer wanted to go home, and I understood his point of view, though was reluctant to speak out. TND managed to convince him to continue, and with my not being able to make a proper decision on the matter, that was that. To move out at that point would have been tricky anyway, perhaps not even possible. And safety in numbers and all that…

The following morning we were making our way back to the school, passing a crater made by a disposed bomb the previous day. The atmosphere was certainly less intense the second time around, though by no means pleasant. Suddenly though, I was able to eat properly. And boy was I hungry. My first full meal tasted like the best tuna pasta I had ever had. Later I tried to urinate in a bottle, but stage fright took hold and I had to go outside. Nothing much happened for a while, but suddenly a shot came out from one of our sniper rifles behind me. With that, the urine flowed quickly and pleasantly. The good times were back!

Marines at school (Simon Jones)

The mood was certainly more relaxed today, and we were kept up to date with the plans by the kindly Major, and the Sergeant Major gave us an inspiring pep talk, suggesting that we’d earned the respect of the troops. It had the desired effect, I felt pretty good, and this feeling only got better when news broke that we would depart back to base that night, our objectives met. An almighty firefight wasn’t enough to ruin my mood now.

I made a couple more short videos, one about a bomb factory we had uncovered in one of the schoolrooms, another about a Taliban calendar we had uncovered among the discarded possessions. Suddenly, the rain came down, with great intensity. I felt for the guards left outside in the downpour, but it was a welcome sight in other ways, and the fresh smell it generated was amazing. I felt somewhat purged.

Downpour - spot the guardian marine outline. Spooky..? (Simon Jones)

After the downpour I videoed the engineers blow up batteries and the like, not worth taking on the return trip. After a few hours’ kip we were off on our final night march once more. Sadly I did not have the equipment to video any of the night march, certainly my main regret from the trip. And what a march it was too, several kilometres across difficult terrain, losing the man in front, losing the man behind, my back feeling like it would break under the weight of my rucksack, until we were back at the landing site, in our bivvy bags, and getting an hour or so’s shut eye until it was time to leave.

I was exhausted. But hugely relieved. We got into the Chinook and away to safety. There was a great exhale as we left – it was not only the end for us but also many of the troops, whose last operation it was before they were off home. Back at base it was cigars all round, breakfast time too, and time for a well earned rest. Best sleep for a long time, relax – properly. Then to edit…

Me, in a chinnok, with a deliriously happy thumb

In all honesty, I’m amazed I got through it. I didn’t thin I’d have the strength – physical or mental, and I came away impressed both with myself and the forces, who do an amazing job in the circumstances, regardless of whether you think it’s a job they should be doing in the first place.

The edit itself was quite satisfying, though I was constantly reminded of what I did wrong, and disappointed in some areas. Hindsight is a wonderful thing though – there was very little chance I would have made any changes if I did it again. There just isn’t time to be effective! It was with immense satisfaction that I got the first video away, and I heard many positive things from the office. For several days my routine was sleep, edit, eat, upload, sleep, edit, etc etc. The food went down better than ever, the earplugs helped me sleep through the noise of the air con unit. Things were good, better than I had dreamt of for the previous few weeks.

Home sweet home...

And then it was time to leave. Though a little sad, the overwhelming feeling was one of excitement at getting home. Getting back to Kabul went smoothly enough, though it certainly felt war torn waiting outside the military airport for our civilian ride to the hotel. The unlikely possibility of suicide bombers was an acute worry in the dark, but soon enough we were back in safety and preparing for bed.

I blinked twice and suddenly it was 5.30 am and I was getting up, ready to head back to the airport, alone for the first time since meeting TND at Heathrow. I went through a checkpoint that required me to leave the car in the middle of Kabul, which couldn’t have gone by quickly enough. Miserable feeling, but the real trouble was to come at the airport entrance itself.

After tipping the old fellow who transported my items to the bus 1 dollar and 33 English pence, I sat waiting for about 10 minutes, fending off further requests for cash. The unavoidable coach took us all of 100m to the airport terminal, but outside everyone was being searched. Concerned that I had already bribed a security man $5 to keep hold of my Kevlar, I got to the desk and went through the same rigmarole. They weren’t budging this time. With my check in deadline approaching quickly, a man who spoke English assisted me. “They won’t let you take the armour as it’s bullet proof”. Logical(!) He then said they were “Fucking idiots”. My thoughts exactly.

Confused and irritated I eventually left it all behind (presumably for a nice Taliban chap to use) and headed to catch my soon-to-depart plane, pausing briefly to admit I didn’t have the necessary paperwork to get out of the country (no idea why – I managed to get in!)

My new friend helped me out, and after more fruitless deliberation about the armour I was checking in, hugging the man goodbye (did he want some arse I wonder) and off on the plane out of Afghanistan. Ahhhh.

Desert: In transit

The next moment of note came on the plane, when the food arrived. I’d had some fairly bad experiences with food in the last two weeks, but nothing came close to the contents of my warm tray. I almost didn’t get it at all, and had to politely ask for the food. Soon after I wish I hadn’t bothered. It was quite frankly the most appalling looking thing I had ever seen. I stared at it with contempt for a while, took a photo as evidence, and attempted to eat it.

Food?

Two mouthfuls later, and I decided to go to sleep instead.

The biggest and best exhale came upon arrival at Dubai, where I killed a few hours at McDonalds and then Costa Coffee, surfing the net and returning to Rico. Bored, happy and excited to get home, which I duly did late on Saturday night, to be greeted by a beautiful woman and a cab all the way home. It was over.

Aperitif: Home

So would I go back? Tough question… To be honest I’d love to never have the chance, as I think there’s something in me that would like to have another crack at it. Now I know what to expect I’d like to do it all better. But am I pushing my luck? We were incredibly lucky on our operation. It couldn’t always be this way… So who knows?

But meanwhile, I’m completely delighted to be back in Blighty.

Afghanistan!

2009-03-28T16:11:00.001Z

So I went to Afghanistan, with The S*n, to video the troops. Below are links to some of my videos...

On Patrol in Kandahar

Operation Blue Sword

Trapped in Sniper Alley

The Seige of Marjah School

Mission Complete!

Hmmm. 2012 update - these links seem to have expired. My work has been cosigned to the annals of history. Well, let's all remember the videos as far better than they actually were.

The Paramount Picture Show

2009-02-27T16:08:00.002Z

Episode 1

Featuring - Watchmen, Tales of the Black Freighter, Eagle Eye, How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, Ghost Town & I Love You, Man.

Our day trip to the depths of hell

2009-01-04T14:17:00.002Z

Actually we went to the new (ish) shopping centre in West London - Westfield (without a field in sight!)

Anyway, it was pretty scary, until we arrived, and then it was quite nice. Then we went home and overanalysed it, as usual...

How to grow an un-killable houseplant

2009-01-04T14:14:00.002Z

I didn't think it was possible... But it is!

Nymph of the Grot demonstrates (with aplomb) how to raise this grubby fern from the jaws of death and back into the bookshelf of the living. Or something...

Non-Christmas CD 2008

2008-12-25T15:58:00.001Z

The latest installment, 2008!

CD1 – Happiness [Ken Dodd]
INTRO

Hello and welcome to the latest in what is fast becoming an inevitably poor summary of the past year, jam-packed with memories forgotten, invented events and music you already own.

The non Christmas CD: Home of saccharine sentimentality that continues to fill a much-needed void.

So without further ado, let us trawl through the archives of 2008, beginning of course at the beginning, and ending almost appropriately, at the end…

CD2 – Peg [Steely Dan]
JANUARY

The year began as it always should, with a Ben and Lou infused cup of tea in Soho. My records inform me Dan Slimm was there too, but that his presence was arbitrary.

In other news, James took me to see The Crave successfully and Radiohead rather less successfully, whilst a completely different day saw those who were present enjoying a night on the tiles at the Soul Cellar with George Slimm (those who were not present, did not), and the biggest sporting event of the year took place – Portsmouth v Derby – or more importantly Mr Huddleston and son v Mr Sprenger and son, all of whom were in the crowd. In all the excitement I forget the result…

Emily and I ate a particularly memorable mushroom stroganoff round at James and Sops’ – indeed we appear to have eaten well in general in January - though perhaps largely because we didn’t drink at all, Ben and Lou, on the other hand, drank copious amounts… of tea, bulimically regurgitating it all in time for Steve’s birthday video, to the dulcet tune of Steve Allen’s guitar…

CD3 –Dashboard [Modest Mouse]
FEBRUARY

During February the Spraynes indulged in heightened alcohol abuse to wipe away the memory of the previous month. We’d go anywhere in search of liquor, even finding ourselves at the Dog’s Trust honours. A particularly surreal place to be while intoxicated.

Bestiality was also all the rage at George Slimm’s birthday party, with Shaun enjoying chocolate covered oral sex from a dog, while I rode a pig.

Ben, by this time was dipping his toe further into teaching, and after one such job interview we met up for a spot of lunch. Whatever I said must have worked – he promptly took a job much closer to home – which in hindsight was a pretty good decision.

CD4 – Turn Tail [Young Knives]
MARCH

Being a wonderful boyfriend I took young Payno to New York in early March, James in turn took me to see some typically weird African music at Cargo, while Steve Allen ran a half marathon and, in his own words, “almost died”.

Picto had some decisions to make – was it to be Costa Rica or architecture? He took time out while mulling this particular conundrum over to fix mum’s fence, and yes, it was the same fence that Steve Collins had ‘fixed’ some months earlier.

James meanwhile invited me along to the pub for pie and then bored me silly by talking to Damien about design all night. Steve Allen recovered from a nasty hip infection that had been afflicting him ever since the run and, some weeks later, recovered from all the prescription drugs he had taken.

Tragedy occurred at Ben’s Farmyard Party, and not just because I had come as an S&M Freddie Mercury. On the plus side Steve made pizza and Lou looked great in a set of udders. Shaun then answered his own questions by enrolling on an architecture degree and promptly headed off to Costa Rica to celebrate.

CD5 – Alone Again Or [Love]
APRIL

I spent a little too much time in James’s company in April, engaging in pool games, Thai food, chess, films and pizza, at some cost to his already well documented mental health. He must have been worried about me.

I also found time to take a trip to Bath, encountering several million Mexicans and one half-marathon veteran still coming down off the drugs. We celebrated by watching what turned out to be soft porn, in bed together before heading off for a picnic in the park.
Baguette.

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough for one month, Ben and Lou headed off for a romantic tryst in Barcelona, only for Lou to return with a ring on her finger. But without the ring. But the point remained and they were engaged.

More importantly though James, Sops and I went out for an evening of beat boxing only to encounter James’s doppelganger, who I walk past every day on the way to work. We all agreed they look nothing alike.

CD6 – The Itch [Belleruche]
MAY

The second sporting event of the year took place in May, with men v women pictionary. Allens, Mackies and Sprengers from all over took part, the men, naturally coming out on top – with only minor cheating securing the victory … Bob Allen took the opportunity to tell a long, confusing, but ultimately hilarious story involving a cross channel ferry and a roundabout.

With wedding plans in full swing, the Slysons decided the only thing to do was to not marry at all, so as to retain an air of mystique. But what an elaborate foil they had conjured, ‘accidentally’ becoming impregnated despite eight years of managing just fine... Coincidence? Or Ben’s self-proclaimed super sperm in action, we shall never know.

Ben came up to London to stay, though, I was surprised and somewhat embarrassed to find, without the intention of impregnating me. But what a time we had. We went to the pub that James was still conducting a heated debate about design in, and then back to mine for cold pizza.

Just when we thought June was about to arrive Dan Slimm returned from arbitrary confinement to have a birthday in Swanage, the precise details of which I completely forget, save for the fact that I stood in dog poo and embarrassed myself no end in front of the in-laws… Lou’s in-laws.

Back in London and after cooking macaroni cheese for James and Sops, I decided to move in to the flat above, where I stayed for 6 weeks and 3 bedrooms.

Oh and I got an email… from myself.

CD7 – Strange Times [The Black Keys]
JUNE

Finally, a quiet month, June was all about Steve Allen, who predictably and somewhat belatedly got himself into a romantic tryst with a lovely young Mexican.

Steve Collins – remember him? – Phoned me about 300 times on my birthday but gave me the silent treatment on all but one of the calls. Indeed for a while I thought he was a rape victim, which obviously couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Finally Picto came back from his latino adventure, complete with stories of bicycles, crocodiles and morning after pills – and suspiciously in time for his birthday… at the Bowman – same old Shaun!

CD8 –S.O.S. [Blak Twang, Seanie T, Roots Manuva & Karl Hinds]
JULY

July began beautifully, but then I was in Egypt, generally spending time underwater and bleeding through the nose.

Order was finally restored to the World upon my return with an overdue re-kindling of the raging Sprayne fire.

But it wasn’t all about me and mine! James had blisters on his fingers from another nerve-wracking yet successful design show, Lou got a little fatter while all the squash playing made Ben a little thinner, and Steve Collins – remember him? – Spent some time on and around a boat.

Shaun fixed a shower in time for Lolly Mackie’s wedding, which I videoed and am still editing, and Steve Allen got rather excited about a cupcake.

CD9 – Kix [The Real Tuesday Weld]
AUGUST

The most beautiful of Summer months, August, pissed it down – in time for James, Sops and I to get well and truly soaked at Field Day. For the remainder of the month I found myself sleeping on their floor. Again.

James and I visited another pretentious design show, though sadly without any of his work this time. We followed this up with what was quite definitely the best dim sum meal I have ever had.

Emily and I took a romantic weekend in Whitstable, which ended up as an almost romantic weekend in Ipswich through matters entirely out of my control.

But the real question on everyone’s lips this month was would I – or would I not, be deployed to serve King and Country in Afghanistan. Picto kindly bought me a book including a message usually reserved for someone he wouldn’t be seeing again, Lou was slightly less subtle in telling me I was going to die, and even Steve-Collins-remember-him was jealous.

And just when it was all about to happen, it didn’t. And I was left to dream of supporting our heroic boys instead.

CD10 – Conservative Christian Right Wing Republican Straight White American Males [Todd Snider]
SEPTEMBER

Finally in September, after months of failure, I found myself and moved into a new flat, realising within days that I was living with a certifiable nutcase.

Another great party was had at Slimm farm, this one in aid of Lou, who slightly begrudgingly allowed Steve Allen in on the act as well. Particularly of note was that unusually for such a party neither of our hosts were drinking, Lou being a bit fat and Steve battling once more with his addiction to antihistamines.

The following day I had acquired myself a pair of End of the Road festival tickets, which Shaun graciously allowed me to take Emily to. So I did and it was great, not even Owen Puckett could ruin the fun.

Not to be out-tented, James, Steve & Elisa went cycling around Scotland, arriving back in pure Picto style in time for a birthday party. January arrived several months too late, along with Steve-Collins-remember-him, who insisted on hiding in a box in order to surprise James. Unfortunately James had no intention of opening the box, and Steve worked up such a sweat waiting that he had to have an early night, disappearing the following morning at some ungodly hour to warmer climes. And that was that.

After such a hectic month Emily and I decided to relax for the rest of it, enjoying several freelance days off in bed and developing an unhealthy addiction to The Wire…

CD11 – Way Down In The Hole [The Blind Boys Of Alabama]
OCTOBER

October saw Shaun start Uni (again) while I finally stopped working at the scum.

Steve Allen was able to breathe easier once he was reunited with his trousers, courtesy of an elaborately packaged gift from those wonderful Spraynes once more.

The only other news of note was that Steve Collins threatened to remind us just who he was, visiting again for a prolonged stay only to be dipped in the Solent by a helicopter in the name of fire safety.

We also had a minor fracas involving some Quorn.

CD12 – Reward [The Teardrop Explodes]
NOVEMBER

I was ill in November. It was horrible.

James began his new job, which somewhat unbelievably in hindsight started very well. Ben & Lou moved into new baby friendly house that I was allowed to come and see. What I wasn’t allowed to see was Lou’s school play, presumably because it was either terrible or pornographic.

Also in the news, a new definition of pointless arrived, consisting of a private jet tour in aid of a song that reached no. 30 in the charts.

And coming on strong as usual towards the end of the year (and with a birthday in January! Who knew!) Was Steve Collins, who had this to say:

Now that I live in a reasonably nice apartment (with BBC TV!) it means I tend to spend most nights in, cooking pasta, drinking a moderate 3 to 4 beers and then watching Match of the Day, before turning in.

Oh the glamour…

CD13 – Beggin’ [Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons]
DECEMBER

And so we find ourselves at December. It’s been quite a trawl this year, which I can only assume means I’ve made better notes.

Ben & Lou decorated the baby room, Shaun continued to be rather good at architecture, James worked all hours and even a few extra despite not knowing if he was going to get paid, while Steve Allen worked a bit too, despite knowing he wasn’t.

And I almost visited Steve Collins in order to watch Match of the Day, but didn’t in the end (which I think you’ll agree makes for a very entertaining story).

Then came Christmas. It happened. And it was nice.

CD14 – Christmas with the Devil [Spinal Tap]
OUTRO

And so we hurtle on towards to 2009, and what a year we have in store! The small matters of a world saving doctorate, a wedding so predictable they might as well have done it way back in 2008, oh, and the arrival of the newest member of the clan, my betting is it’ll be a small boy called Jessie, who moans more than me, dribbles more than James, and shits more than Shaun.

But until that time I shall bid you adieu, au revoir, adios and fuck off.

CD15 – Happy Heart [Andy Williams]

Interestment

2008-12-20T14:01:00.001Z

Click here for easy access to Joshy Burt's wonderful website devoted to all kinds of (occasionally) mind blowing STUFF!

A poem

2008-12-10T14:09:00.002Z

A poem doesn't have to rhyme,
To do so takes up too much time,
And I'm fucking busy.

Yes, I've been busy

2008-10-03T18:38:00.000+01:00

Go here and learn all about art.

Percival Pig

2008-09-29T16:41:00.001+01:00

Here's my nan June reciting a favourite poem, Percival Pig, from her chair in Edinburgh.

Nitrogen Narcosis @ The Blue Hole

2008-07-27T16:45:00.000+01:00

Here's my diving video wot I made. And yes, I was learning all about the silly effects you can do on Final Cut.

The Love Guru (Part 3)

2008-07-25T14:45:00.004+01:00

Dating editorial

Q) Aside from dinner and the cinema, what would be a good first date idea?

A) The best place for a first date, including dinner and the cinema, is a visit to the Dangals, for a spot of Pehlwani wrestling. Like other contact sports, wrestling makes for extremely erotic viewing, and will certainly put your woman of choice into the desired mood for what you have planned later on.
Hanging out down at the Dangals you can indulge in a small samosa snack, while the ancient traditions are played out before your very eyes like dinosaurs in codpieces, mating to classical music. This is a potent seduction technique designed to put you in position to take all the points.

Later in the evening, try some wrestling of your own. First, enter the ring of love. It is customary at this point to mark your territory with excrement. Then, in some cultures, it is customary to take the virginity of your pets, though I would never advise in actually carrying this out.

Home Pehlwani is a Rare Opportunity for Personal Exchange (ROPE). Get your girl on the R.O.P.E. and she will be yours for the taking. If she gets you on the R.O.P.E. then the roles will be reversed. Although the outcome will be similar, it will still damage your masculinity and thus your reputation amongst friends.

In the next step you should attempt to knock her out, or even get her knockers out. Either way you will have succeeded at hitting your first date target, and should be very proud of your efforts (unless you really did mark your territory with excrement, in which case you may as well have slept with the guinea pig you dirty, dirty man).

Q) I’ve been dating my girlfriend for four weeks now and the subject of sex has come up but I have a complex about my ‘lil fella’. How do I address the issue?

A) Dwarves should not be kept as pets, or forced to indulge in sexual activity purely to fulfil your own twisted fetishes.
Besides, what is so wrong with him anyway, that you feel ashamed to bring him up with your chosen bed buddy? Despite their size, dwarves are complex. They have emotions, opinions and a low centre of gravity. Have you ever tried to manoeuvre a dwarf? It’s hard work and almost entirely fruitless, as if you had asked them nicely they would likely have manoeuvrered themselves in an acceptable manner anyway. Reward them with a pint of Guinness.

The first step towards your bizarre goal is acceptance. Accept who you are, accept who your dwarf is. Find the middle ground. This is likely to be around five foot two.

Next, approach your woman -- begin with an introductory film. For this I would suggest Willow, Time Bandits, or anything with Dudley Moore in, or (if you’re feeling adventurous), the adult movie Snow White and the Three Dwarves. Gauge her response to the films; this will give you a good idea of how turned on she will become at the prospect of being pleasured by a pygmy.

Next, to dinner. Try cooking whitebait, baby corn, button mushrooms and cocktail sausages. Does she like your treat, or does she demand the cod, the cob, the portobello and the frankfurter? This will also give an indication of how she might savour stature scarcity.

Other things to try:
-Taking her for a drive in a hatchback
-Buying her a microscope, thimble or ant farm
-Discuss keyhole surgery (but for a short time only)

The bottom line is this: Despite their unimpressive stature, dwarves have notoriously large genitalia. And I should know. Hang on… I think I’ve just understood what you meant…

Q) I really fancy my mate’s ex. She is so hot and I know she likes me, but it might hurt my friend. Should I just go for it?

A) This question is best answered anagrammatically. An anagram of ‘mate’s ex’ is ‘team sex’.

Team sex can be enjoyable, informative, surprising and of course competitive, but don’t let this put you off. Without competition, sport is merely a game, and very few people find whist arousing. Other types of game include pheasant, grouse and wild boar. None of these are arousing either, so I think we can rule out game.

First you need to convince both parties that team sex is the way to tackle this issue. Don’t spend too long thinking of the tackle though; it will likely put you right off the idea.
The tricky thing now is convincing someone who is already hot that they should take part in what is ultimately exercise, designed to increase the heart rate and make her warmer still.

To combat this, use ice. And what is ice? I.C.E. is Intercourse Cooling Equipment. Have a great deal of I.C.E. ready for the hot girl when she arrives for the team sex. She will be very grateful and display this physically.
Then all you need to do is hope that your friend doesn’t turn up for practice. Your team may now be one player short, but he has forfeited the game. Now you must make sure you put in a strong performance, to hide the fact that you are a man down. If all goes to plan the hot girl will neither notice nor care that her ex is not taking part, and he will be relegated to the substitute bench once more, while you will be the team’s star player, and win the desired trophy.

---

If you seek further enlightenment watch THE LOVE GURU movie film, at cinemas from August 1st. But not before then, as he’s currently sunbathing in a cave.

The Love Guru (Part 2)

2008-07-18T16:35:00.003+01:00

Part Two: Sex Editorial

Q) How can I turn a work colleague into a lover?

A) There is an old saying that states: “What are work colleagues if not lovers in linen suits?”

It’s not a view I subscribe to.

The type of person who wears linen suits is best kept as a colleague, or better still thrown from a high building into a low tide. But who builds flats on cliff edges in these spiritually enlightened times?

If this colleague is in a different league - perhaps she wears sexy nylons and glasses on the tip of her nose, spending much of the day sat on your desk crossing and uncrossing her legs - then the only sensible option is to promote her to the league of love.

So how do you do this?

You have to show her you’re worth more careful consideration than a scattering of stapled memos and sporadic flirtatious emails. Let’s up the stationary ante. Striped paperclips are a talking point, and strategically placed business cards a constant reminder of your lustful craving.

Nothing says ‘I love you’ better than a witty comment on the back of a business card in indelible pen. Don’t use a dry wipe marker as your wishes will be washed away by the uncontrollable palm sweat of your wanted woman, leaving her with nothing but the memory of what could have been and a rather mucky paw.

I am, of course, assuming your business card is laminated, as all good business cards should be, and the temperature soars higher than the photocopier room when you’re laminating your loved one’s expenses forms for use later on at home.

Remember to tip-ex out any traces of such behaviour before the boss arrives, otherwise you’ll find yourself on the fast track to the recruitment consultant’s. Unless you’re already a recruitment consultant, in which case I advise you to think carefully about entering a relationship before you imprison your unborn child into such homogenous professional parentage.

Q) I used to enjoy sex with my girlfriend but now she just wants it all of the time and I don’t have the stamina. I don’t want to lose her – what should I do?

A) Sexual stamina shouldn’t scare, it should be shared. Don’t be afraid of passing your girlfriend on to some of your less attractive mates once you have had your fill, for a mutually suitable price. A good way to remember this is to Sell to Less Attractive Guys – S.L.A.G. her.

This is one of the few sex situations where everyone is a winner – you because your problem is solved, your girlfriend because she gets to experience other lovers (and be grateful only to you), and your mates because they get to sample the delights of the girl of their dreams (you don’t think they’re friends with you because they actually like you, do you?)

Other ways to decrease sexual appetite (though each case is not without its side-effects) include:

- Becoming fascinated with the inner workings of 1930s German fascism. Buy yourself some appropriately themed military regalia and start quoting from Mein Kampf.

- Breaking wind - and laughing heartily about it - when naked. This works well when in a public place, such as a commuter train or stock exchange.

- Growing a beard and keeping large deposits of mackerel stew within its mangled fuzz.

- Beginning every sentence with “As David Icke would say…”

- Giving her what she really wants – a baby. Once a baby has arrived you will find very little time for arousal, particularly when dealing with nappies.

Finally, if you’re really not getting anywhere, try P.E.A.S. - Putting Everything Above Sex.

P.E.A.S. are a very good way of getting rid of the horn.

Q) What’s the best way to approach a girlfriend about having a threesome without getting slapped?

A) Approach her from her weaker side – this way if she does decide to slap at least it will be with her more pathetic wrist.

Also approach with a smile, a smile goes a long way – approximately 5miles. See what I did there? My karma is huge, but you have the power to do it too! Try it at home before entering the public domain and trying it there. Rehearsing before your opening night can save much embarrassment – you will know your lines, come on in correct costume and utilise the appropriate props. If your rehearsal time is poor, there can be no encore.

But what is a slap anyway?

A S.L.A.P. is a Stray Limb Attacking People. Often S.L.A.P.s are not the work of the limb’s owner, and thus the owner should not be personally punished purely for the work of their anarchic right arm.

Instead, try to understand her disorder, as it is likely this version of limb tourettes will feel alien to her as well. And if someone is not in control of their right arm, it follows that they will be in no place to discredit the use of a third person in matters of a sexual nature. It also follows that they may at some point have had a stroke. Check for signs of dribblng.

In short - If your girlfriend does slap you, it is likely she will actually be more susceptible to a ménage a trois, as she will have more pressing matters on her plate than to worry about the triviality of a third person in the sack.

Unless she speaks French, of course, in which case there is no K is sac, and she’ll know all about threesomes and will already be quite sure of whether she wants one or not. As will you.

Finally, remember that some people enjoy the slap itself - particularly the Mosley Slap - and will think of ever more alarming ways of getting their sexual kicks from one, sometimes involving up to eight people in a slap orgy.

---

If you seek further enlightenment watch THE LOVE GURU movie film, at cinemas from August 1st. But not before then, as he’s currently on safari in Liverpool.

The Love Guru (Part 1)

2008-07-11T16:23:00.004+01:00

The film turned out to be rubbish, but I got to write some stuff in the guise of Guru Pitka - Mike Myers' character from The Love Guru.

Which was fun, and received a very mixed response...

CHEATING editorial...

Q) Early on in our relationship I cheated on my girlfriend of five years with one of her friends. Now that we’re engaged the guilt is killing me. I don’t want to lose her, what should I do?

A) Like Darlington, death by guilt is not a happy place for you to be, particularly at night. Don’t kill yourself – kill the guilt. Bludgeon it in the back of the head with an axe if needs be – better men than you will have done so in the past and lived to tell the tale.

Hide no longer under your quilt of guilt, for you will soon find it to be eaten by the moths of truth. And moths operate at night, when there is only the moon for guidance. And what is a moon? A M.O.O.N. is a Moth Operational Ordnance Navigator.
Never trust the M.O.O.N.

Instead try pushing the guilt aside with gifts. And what are gifts? G.I.F.T.S. are Girlfriend Incentives For Tempting Sex, and will guarantee your conscience clears in direct relation to your declining bank balance.

But if guilt can be bought, what price do you put on your girlfriend? Over 1000 pounds would potentially price you out of the market. Less than ten pounds (with or without the customary bucket of mud) would raise serious questions about her sanitation levels. But price her somewhere in between and I’m listening. All I request is a photograph of her inner thigh and a seven-day return clause.

So, where are you in relation to your headspace now? And how far away has the guilt become in relation to the moths? Guilt isn’t a relation of the moths, but butterflies are, and ‘butter flies’ is simply the incarnate rage of an angry dessert chef, upon realising someone has stolen his self-raising flour and he’ll have to make do with a plain flour / cornflower combination instead. This will add precious minutes to his cooking time and seriously jeopardise the growth of his Victoria sponge.

The bottom line is this: If you can’t take the heat, don’t be a cheat. TM.

Q) I’m convinced my girlfriend is cheating with her ex, but I’m afraid that if I’m wrong she won’t forgive me, but if I’m right I’ll be devastated. How do I approach this?

A) For this problem I would suggest challenging your love rival to a game of four-finger truth spoons.

Firstly, lure him into your honey pot like an obese bee, perhaps using your girlfriend as a foil. But not a tin foil as she won’t take kindly to being wrapped around a potato and bunged in the barbecue. She will likely not mind one bit if you distract her with some sufficiently salacious celebrity gossip that no woman is immune to.

When the ex is within range (ideally around ten feet away) you will take your truth spoon and allow it to dance its merry jig into the eyes of the enemy. The jig will take roughly five to six minutes depending on how much of a flourish your spoon is able to conjure up after an exhausting routine. It’s quite a sight to behold from afar, but at around ten feet the game activates a highly potent truth chemical called Geranium Ultra-Ferrous Formula, G.U.F.F.

And this is the point at which you will find your answer. If the enemy makes a move on your girlfriend, freeing her from her obsessive fame spell with a kiss that makes a thousand swallows sing, there is a good chance your fears have been confirmed. If he stands for a while, seemingly dazed by your spoon groove and not committing to any form of action, then you’ll have some explaining to do.

This game works very well on a Tuesday. Ironically all ten fingers and thumbs must be used to launch your spoon – the misleading four-fingered title was created by the game’s founder, the chaste Guru Hathasmalvena, after he started showing signs of an unknown disease with all the hallmarks of syphilis.

But I digress. If all else fails, stalk her in a tan trench coat.

Q) I’ve met the girl of my dreams but I’m worried about her reputation as someone with a very healthy sexual appetite – how do you ask a girl about her sexual history?

A) Buy her dinner first. All difficult questions are softened by alligator soup.

If she truly is the girl of your dreams you must check you are definitely awake, do this by kicking yourself in the shin and checking for pain. P.A.I.N. is Personal Anger Internalised Now, so you’ll feel it immediately if you’re awake. P.A.I.N. is also what you’ll feel if, once your consciousness is confirmed, your girlfriend admits her gateway is often open, allowing many traders through to the love market.

The antidote to P.A.I.N. is to Negate the Unnecessary Mental Burden. N.U.M.B. yourself, and things will seem much better, like when you have to sedate an attention deficit adolescent who won’t stop throwing chairs around but you over-do the dosage and they end up behaving like a lobotomised koala for days on end.

How to N.U.M.B. yourself?

Remember that a healthy sexual appetite is above all healthy, like a bowl of fruit. An unhealthy sexual appetite is above all unhealthy, like being trapped in a cupboard with a Nazi. This will always lead to illness, closing the door on inner peace.

Try instead to change your attitude to sexual history. Many people will have made a pass at your girlfriend, but that is in the past. History is also something that sits comfortably in the past, and there is a big gap between the past and the future known as the present. The best present of all is trust. Closely followed by a holiday, but not a cheap cruise where your cabin has no windows.

Trust will fill your heart tummy with all the nourishment required to get past the past.

Mariska Hargitay.

---

If you seek further enlightenment watch THE LOVE GURU movie film, at cinemas from August 1st. But not before then, as he’s currently on an all-expenses-paid skiing holiday in Amsterdam.

abundant

2008-06-19T16:17:00.001+01:00

Abundant is a small new company specialising in radio and online film promotions. But we have many more strings to our bow. Have a look at the website to find out more, book us, and make us rich.

Or at least less poor...

More from the email conversation that shook the nation...

2008-05-05T12:27:00.001+01:00

Hi Richard,

Many thanks for the reply. It really made my day to receive it and I have proudly told most people I've come into contact since all about it!

Unsurprisingly I share the Spring*r / Spr*ng*r issue, indeed while at college a small group of friends referred to me as 'Jerry'. While at school I always wanted to be towards the end of the alphabet - my dream surname was Zwick (or Zucco or somesuch) for that very reason!

Interesting that you're actually a Franz, I'm not sure of our own history dating back that far, but have always hoped my ancestors were German dynamite experts - the most literal translation I can find for Spr*ng*r is 'Blaster'.

Thanks again for your response. I am glad we share the name.

Best wishes,
Richard

PS - fairly unique? Surely this conversation proves our name is anything but...

The email that made my day...

2008-05-02T15:55:00.001+01:00

Hi Richard

Thank you for your email, I don't get many emails from myself. On the positive side the name is fairly unique, people tend to remember the name once they realize it's not Spring*r. On the negative side the family name came from moving in to a house called Spr*ng*rhoff in 1723. Our name is really Franz. Starting with S also meant waiting a long time at school when things were decided alphabetically. Most people can't pronounce the name and usually I get "like Jerry or a spaniel". Despite all this when we had a family discussion about changing the family name back to Franz, there was no enthusiasm.

Good luck with the name.

Richard

For the sake of namesakes...

2008-05-01T20:02:00.006+01:00

Dear Richard Spr*ng*r,

I am emailing you because like you, I have been blessed with the name Richard Spr*ng*r. I have never met any Spr*ng*rs outside of my immediate family - I assumed it to be quite an uncommon name (outside of Germany, where I believe we have a fuller quota).

So you can imagine my surprise when I realised there were more Spr*ng*rs in the UK, and that one of them (possibly more) was similarly called Richard.

I believe you are slightly older than me (I am 25) and wondered whether you believe our name to be a blessing, a curse or neither of the above. Do you wear the good name of Spr*ng*r on your sleeve, or is it a burden you cope with admirably?

I took the liberty of purchasing your book, Intermediate Food Hygiene, though was disappointed to find its spine was without author. To be honest I have little experience of good food hygiene, but I think it's marvellous that one of us does, and not only that, but that you appear to be very successful with it.

Anyway, thanks for your time, I hope you are well.

Best Wishes,

Richard Spr*ng*r.

--------------------------------

Hi Richard, It's me again, Richard.

I am writing again as I didn't receive a response from my previous email... Maybe you thought I was taking the mickey, maybe it didn't get past your spam filter (Richard Spr*ng*rs are notorious for having excellent spam filters...)

I genuinely am a Richard Spr*ng*r and would be keen to hear from you, the only other Richard Spr*ng*r I have ever come across, with regard to the email above.

I promise to leave you alone should you wish, but I'd just like a few short lines from you on our name, if you have a moment I would really appreciate it.

Best wishes,
Richard Spr*ng*r

* removed for legal reasons...

Puzzle a Day

2008-05-01T19:58:00.001+01:00

Dear Sir / Madam,

I received your 'Puzzle a Day' pad for Christmas and found it a little disappointing to say the least.

Though some of the days included good puzzles, the majority of the days were either hideously complicated (do you expect the puzzles to take ALL day? - I will grudgingly put this down to the fact that I am not a member of Mensa) or worse, simply wrong!

The complicated questions gave no method to working out the answer, more often than not just a number was provided, leaving me no happier that you had got the correct answer but suspecting that you had made it up. Maybe I'm just thick, but there can be no excuse for some of your bigger errors on the quiz.

Allow me to be anal about this with a random selection of puzzles I have not yet got round to throwing away:

Day 247's numbers do not fit onto the crossword grid, because one of the options is 2446, not 12446 as it should be. Pretty slack I think you'll agree.

Day 264's changing of DUST to GOLD in 5 moves would be fine, if only there were 5 moves to be made, rather than the four slots you have allocated. Slack once more.

Day 302 has a man and his son who are aged 27 years apart but with age digits reversed. Apparently they are 63 and 36 respectively, but could they also not be 52 and 25? or 41 and 14? or 74 and 47? 85 and 58? I could go on...

That really is thick.

Thus, within 2 months, there are at least 3 of these errors (from memory many more) which, coupled with the puzzles at the other end of the spectrum, make for a wholly unsatisfying year.

I do think the idea for 'Puzzle a Day' is a good one, but I do wish it had been carried out by professionals.

Yours, in sympathy,

Sprengiko

Extreme Toothbrushing UK

2008-04-19T16:59:00.003+01:00

The very latest extreme sport to come out of the yooo kayyy!

It's extreme toothbrushing, and it doesn't come more extreme than this, with poetry and editing employed to get that gnarliest brush man!

You Elfish Bastard

2008-04-16T00:01:00.001+01:00

From the team that brought you the last ConVERSEation, here's another one...

Almighty Wind

2008-04-13T23:54:00.000+01:00

A ConVERSEation.

That's right - It's a POEM! But one that takes the form of a CHAT!

Brilliant.

Respect

2008-04-13T14:18:00.003+01:00

An abominable noise from outside my flat in Bethnal Green. Gets louder and louder. Finally I see the source, an open topped bus with George Galloway's Respect party banners all over it. From a megaphone comes his recognisable Scottish twang.

Suddenly I'm glad it's raining.

Breakfast in the East Village

2008-03-14T17:04:00.001Z

Crazy shenanigans, I know. The final video of our New Yorkan stay is set in a little restaurant in the East Village.

SEE us look at the menu!

WATCH our breakfast get delivered!!

VIEW me take my first mouthful!!!

YUM YUM YUM !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Alright, it's a bit boring, but it's well bloody real.)

Boat Tour Around Manhattan Island

2008-03-13T18:59:00.002Z

Oh, to be, to be, at sea.

Here's me and Grotty on our boat tour of Manhattan. There we saw the sights of Liberty Island (or at least its eponymous sight), went under the Brooklyn Bridge (and for that matter its less famous sister, the Manhattan Bridge), gawped at the magnificent Manhattan skyline, sang a bastardised hybrid of the American and British national anthems, drew pictures of big buildings, listened to the dulcet tones of Kathleen Turner (and argued about which films she had been in) and generally larked around.

On a boat.

The South Street Seaport Stalk

2008-03-13T18:21:00.001Z

So I ended up stalking the Nymph of the Grot down at the ferryport in Manhattan, which naturaly she didn't like very much.

And she told me so.

So I stopped.

Richard's Pasta Cafe

2008-03-12T20:34:00.001Z

Another video for you fine video loving folk, here's one of some fellow called Richard making a less-than-hilarious joke (in fact it's not exactly a joke, more a mildly amusing play-on-words) about a pasta cafe.

Because 'pasta' sounds a bit like 'past a'. Geddit??? GEDDIT???

Honestly, there's just no pleasing some people is there, you anorexic bastards.

The Museum of Modern Art

2008-03-12T17:40:00.001Z

Finally we decided to brave the rain and head to MoMA for some cultural stuff.

Nymph of the Grot takes us on a tour of part of the museum before sadly we get chucked out as the selfish museum decided to close!

This is an abstract film exploring key themes of art, escalators and overpriced rickshaws.

Coffee in New York

2008-03-12T17:01:00.000Z

Nymph of the Grot and myself escaped the lousy good for nothing rain in a little coffee shop and had some of the famous cheesecake. Yum.

We then recorded this short video about our day so far...

The eyes have it!

2008-03-03T18:28:00.004Z

A monster swam by my boat the other day,
It had a million eyes,
I viewed it through the port hole,
Any closer would not have been wise.

[Getting quite into this poetry lark now...]

Totally Locally Poetry

2008-03-02T21:13:00.002Z

Here is some poetry wot me and old Nymph of the Grot wrote in the pub the other day. Yeah.

Old ladies in cardies repeat what they say,
When conversing on the subject of All Saint Shaznay.
They argue over whether she out-sung Mel Blatt,
Only agreeing on the poor vocals from the Appletons - Nic & Nat.

The issue of impotence enters their talk,
They speak candidly of sex, making their grandkids balk.
It's Barry, Pat's husband, that comes up the most,
His erectile dysfunction she likens to soggy toast.
Sharon pipes up with "It happens to the best of 'em",
Pat replies "I could handle the worst, so show me the rest of 'em".

But Christine, who's been sitting in silence,
Gets her kicks from glamourised violence:
"I don't care if it's turgid or floppy,
I'd rather watch TV with some red pesto gnocchi.
Her eyes say it all as they dart round the room,
Looking for someone to play big spoon.

The ladies go quiet, wondering who will 'fess up next,
Roger's wife Deborah admits "I've never been sexed".
Lyndsay Ramirez, the Albanian Jew says;
"I'll show you a good time, why not become a lez?"

Ode to Parazone

2008-02-24T22:40:00.002Z

A short poem with stimulating visual concept design, dedicated to the love of my life, Parazone Toilet Bleach.

No other rose would smell as sweet I reckon...

Televisionhead - Always

2008-02-23T21:35:00.000Z

Yep, I was bored the other day, so I hooked my camera up to my televisions and videoed it on my handycam. The results are not particularly impressive, but I did put a hat on top of the telly to make it look like that was actually my face, which is pretty bloody clever if you ask me.

Like the musicians Radiohead, I wanted my own little slice of immortality. Unfortunately I was not particularly creative in my choice of song, hence Bon Jovi reared their ugly heads once more, and this Romeo began to bleed.

I am actually quite ashamed of myself. The only reason, dear viewer, that I am allowing you access to this damning rubbish, is that I aim to display my own ego in a negative light.

I do so hope that has been achieved.

Thank you.

Bestiality ROCKS!

2008-02-22T23:47:00.002Z

Seriously, I was, like you, a lover of all things human. Until last weekend, when I happened to get drunk and dip my toe in unchartered waters, thanks to the HOTTEST pig I have ever met, Daisy.

But you can hardly blame me for my infidelity. I learnt everything I know from the master, Picto, who earlier in the evening had received head from a labrador.

Can Crushing Fiesta

2008-02-22T21:32:00.000Z

Say what you like about the Evans Brothers, but they would make excellent wives, as we found out at a recent party.

Here, the following morning, Old Tom Evans crushes cans to death with his bare shoe! What a man / lady.

This is actually a pointless video.

Refractolator Rich

2008-02-15T17:39:00.002Z

Refractolator Scrabble

2008-02-14T17:30:00.000Z

Here are some sexy pictures of scrabble. I took these through a refractolator thing of a travel scrabble board covered in words that are significant to myself and old Nympho.

Happy Punkday

2008-01-28T21:29:00.002Z

It was Steve's 26th, and he'd come all the way back to Blighty to celebrate.

However, we weren't to know that, so Picto, Steve Allen, Random Boy, The Slyson-Dimms and Nymph of the Grot rocked out on his behalf for this groundbreaking music video song thing.

Non-Christmas CD 2007

2007-12-25T15:56:00.000Z

And we're back in 2007 with this offering...

1CD - Bring Me Sunshine

Intro – Hello and welcome to the third annual-ish non-Christmas CD. I would like to begin with an apology – for last year’s no doubt distressing absence of CD, the blame for which lies solely with the Iraqi Judicial System for incomprehensibly hanging their former dictator on New Year’s eve, and then allowing it to be videoed on mobile phone and passed on to The Sun newspaper.

2CD – My Life is Natural

JANUARY
That was Slade! Mental.
Anyway, January. January was a cold one, made all the more so by my refusal to indulge in the sweet sweet warmth of alcohol. Instead the month was spent recording podcasts with James, going out with James, and researching Steve Allen logos on Google.
Picto turned up to a comedy show with the improbably named Basha Benda, whilst that ever-enthusiastic character James and I dressed up for a burlesque show as Victorian paupers from Hoxton. Before realising that burlesque in fact meant two Chinese contortionists in lycra.
Oh, and Steve Collins had a birthday, which he spent in Saigon.

3CD – In The Midnight Hour

FEBRUARY
A brief flick through my diary informs me that I saw a fair amount of you chaps in the month that was February. Sadly that’s about all it does.
The month began with Ben and Lou telling me my haircut was ‘sensible’, then there was a quiet period before I saw Steve Allen before his snowboarding trip on the 17th, James for dinner on the 19th, and Ben again on the 24th. The only notes I appear to have made concerning any of the dates are the cryptically scrawled ‘2 heads’ by James’ name...
Also in February James and I paid money to go and watch a dozen performers prance around a stage with power tools making an absolute bloody racket that I don’t believe my ears will ever recover from...
Picto spent the month being miserable.

5CD – I’m The Urban Spaceman

MARCH
March was a good one, despite the travesty that was the Slaang warehouse party.
Steve, Picto and I went to a birthday party for some girl called Emily, James was my date for the Buena Vista Social Club, and I began to get pretty friendly with that Emily girl before disappearing off to Thailand for a couple of weeks to be ignored by Steve Collins at closer proximity than I had been enjoying for the last year or so.
In fact the only worthwhile thing that Steve said to me for the entire trip was that Steve Allen was his favourite. Proof indeed that though he had unquestionably become a wanker he still had impeccable taste.
During this time Ben had a birthday, though as I wasn’t there it seems wholly inappropriate to criticise his taste in guests.

9CD – Spanish Stroll

APRIL
On my return from Thailand I was greeted by Jimmy Saville, who took me around London for the day in his pink Rolls Royce. Steve Allen put his brain to good use by making a solar cooker that Dick Strawbridge poked fun at, Chico was in awe of my new white shoes at a Russian party, I had dinner with James that my notes tell me was ‘ok’, and I gave Mr Allen’s allotment some helpful advice about radishes.
The highlight of the month was our group sojourn to the land of the Bath, despite even the presence of our weary traveller friend who had recently returned to our fair shores via the Hampshire Bowman. James celebrated his return by giving him a vest, Ben came along purely to receive presents, and Picto brought along a couple of German friends for the sole purpose of making the salad for the barbecue.
That evening we went to see Mr Scruff. A good time was had by all but I still managed to spend most of the evening vomiting in a bush in an effort to impress that nice young Emily lady who had accidentally, unwittingly and recently become my girlfriend.

4CD – A Hidden Forest

MAY
May was the month of the Nigel Mackie Garden Party. Picto had spent the last month landscaping the arena, only for Joanne Allen to weigh in at the last moment with a few plants and steal all the glory. Simon Layzell put in a brief yet memorable appearance in London, Steve Allen cycled to Yeovil with a tipee in tow, and at Ben and Lou’s behest everyone dressed up as gnomes for the Summer Solstice, Picto’s costume being so good as to reward him with a girlfriend for his troubles.
Having an allergy to gnoming I spent the weekend shacked up in a tent, in a Cornwall that still thought it was midwinter. My sole comfort being that unwitting young lady that I keep going on about, who almost learnt her lesson and got rid of my while she was still able.
Unsurprisingly, after about six weeks of gallivanting around England ignoring reality, Steve Collins decided to sod off again. This time Italy beckoned, so with only his small yacht book for company he took off to Pisa, gateway to the Mediterranean, finding work as a Strongbow drinker on the boat of a dodgy Russian Oligarch.

7CD – Running Away

JUNE
Being the best birthday month, it seemed only right that June should be a month of celebration. I spent mine in a local park, before James took over. After passing out for an hour on my bed, he demanded we go to a club on Brick Lane, only to duck out at the last minute and head for a roof party. Once the night was over and we all went home, he called up and couldn’t quite understand why we weren’t about to join him on the roof.
Who nose what Picto did for his birthday. Who nose! Geddit!? HE HAD A NOSE PARTY! My nose was the best as I had actually made it, out of plastic spoons and fried egg sweets.
I believe I am right in saying that this was also the month that Shaun broke James’s face with an ocarina. Though don’t ask James as he didn’t seem to notice at the time.

14CD – Start Wearing Purple

JULY
In July Picto and I took our respective partners to Dans Le Noir, for an evening of overpriced food, mislaid orders and stressed-out, blind waiting staff. In the dark.
The party of the summer (or what summer there was) belonged to Josie Slimm, who emigrated to Australia just to have it. Gnomes were out in full force once more, whilst Lou and I entertained the troops with admittedly fairly awful vocal performances of lost classics, such as the Slyson-Dimm penned ‘Josie-doh’ and my ‘ode to John Slimm’.
July also saw the death of Cure Cafe, as we realised it would be far more environmentally conscious for us not to encourage the masses to spend any more time on their computers than was already necessary. Ah well...

12CD – We’re Gonna Change The World

AUGUST
Festival time was upon us once more. James and I went to Shoreditch, where that lovely young Emily was still to be found doing her bit for society by keeping me in check. James also spent a solid amount of time recounting old stories involving poo, much to the delight of Picto, who, as a veteran of troubling colonic episodes himself, could fully empathise with the scenarios faced.
The Green Man festival was also heavily attended, though not by Steve Allen who had originally suggested the event back in April. Despite all the joy that was brought that weekend, mostly in big black bags by Ben, my personal highlight was the dirty old man that looked like Robbie Coltrane in Harry Potter, who laid down behind us cradling a scantily clad small plastic doll.

11CD – Psycho Killer

SEPTEMBER
More parties beckoned in September. Steve and Lou had a juggernaut of a time in Winchester, where the word on everyone’s lips was dog. Or corpse.
Shaun and Zoe came up to London to celebrate Jo Mackie’s birthday, but we quickly decided our time would be better spent drinking quietly at home, and made a speedy exit.
James also had a party, this month was fast rivalling June, though unfortunately I was given full responsibility for keeping him out of the way for the day, a job I did so appallingly that by the time the party had begun we were so drunk we didn’t notice our collective spilling of red wine all over the floor. Typically Shaun impressed everyone at the party with his unique use of the didgeridoo.
Also in September, James took me to a Matthew Barney exhibition and talk at the serpentine, which was pretty hard work for a realist like myself.

6CD – Weirdo

OCTOBER
As I arrived in October I also arrived in India, for a tiger-tracking mission in one of the national parks. As this trip was free, I was the winner for October. I got back and promptly moved into a new flat with the very fragrant Emily, before inviting James and Sops round for a slap up 3-course meal in return for a lovely citrus tree that requires more light than it is currently getting.
Also in October Steve Allen complimented his newfound BBC two fame by being granted a column in the local Bristol & Bath magazine. Early word on the street is that in his byline photo our Steve looks ‘hot, if a little outdoorsy’.

8CD – Creepin Up The Backstairs

NOVEMBER
November began with the Cinematic Orchestra gig at the Royal Albert Hall, attended even by Steve Collins, who had flown back specifically for the gig, and taken the next two weeks off work to recover. I then got ill and spent the rest of the weekend being miserable, James went off to see some fireworks, and Shaun and the Steve’s sat in my flat watching Nathan Barley on DVD.
Later that month we created an abstract art display for Steve, titled ‘Cider and Pain’ that culminated in that weird chair thing that will forever keep me mystified, Steve Allen came all the way to London to see a play and eat a pizza, and James painted pictures of medicine bottles and tried to sell them at inflated prices.
Then Steve jetted back out to Pisa for the winter season, and accidentally ordered a year’s supply of Strongbow, and enough marmite to... What do you do with excessive amounts of marmite indeed?

13CD – Goodbye Horses

DECEMBER
All this brings me on to December, a month that I am scarcely half way though and yet feel compelled to talk about in hindsight. I went for a curry with James while he gave me the distinct impression he was doing increasingly well at work. He then teased that young Sops before whisking her off to Budapest for a birthday love-in.
James also had Christmas drinkies at his house, then more Christmas drinkies took place down south, and hopefully we all managed to see each other at some point before Picto went snowbound for some boarding and the rest of us went our separate ways for new year.
And Steve Allen changed his home phone number.

15CD – Daydream in Blue

And so at last we reach 2008, and what does the next 12 months have in store for us all I do wonder?
You have a year to mull over that thought, while I fine tune the art of Diarising to the point at which writing this thing becomes easy.
I do hope you all have a wonderful festive period, are in good spirits for the turn of the year, and will join me at some point soon to reward me for my hard work and dedication to the cause .
Good luck for 2008. You’ll need it!

16CD – Feeling Alright

The Maltese Spa

2007-12-17T21:19:00.000Z

I'd be a fool not to accept a free trip away, to one of Europe's top Spa resorts, so when the offer came in from my lady friend, I jumped at the chance.

Fortunately for the chance, I mistimed my jump, missed the chance completely, and ended up in a tree.

But I still went to the spa. Here are a few little videos of our time there, displaying some of the treatments the classy suites have to offer...

THE BATHROOM

THE DERMALIFE

THE STRESSBUSTER

As anticipated, we were absolutely shattered by the end of the weekend, and had to take it easy the next day at work...

The Ancient Art of Chinese Leaf Diving

2007-11-22T08:50:00.001Z

Admittedly it's a little known sport, but Chinese Leaf Diving is really taking off in certain areas, particularly in the Epping Forest area of Essex (Oct - Nov).

Here I demonstrate C.L.D. Whilst looking incredibly cool.

But of course, my deliberate mistake in all this was that my pit was too shallow for customary complete submergal in leaves. So I had another go, in a deeper pit, where, after a bit of bottling, I created a classic case of C.L.D. that any man would be proud of.

Tiger Tracking: The Movie

2007-11-09T15:54:00.000Z

Here's the video of my trip to India in search of a tiger.

That is all.

On the Whitechapel Road yesterday

2007-10-23T13:57:00.000+01:00

I saw a man licking a plate.

It wasn't even 9am!

Efrain Sipe Mamani

2007-10-21T16:34:00.000+01:00

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I am now the proud owner of a new child. His name is Efrain, and he is from Bolivia.

I sponsored him through Action Aid (who, I have just realised, are a Christian organisation. Nevermind). I would fully recommend you do the same.

All this means I can supervise Efrain's upbringing, nurture him from afar, and then when I am old he can look after me, as no doubt he will be a famous doctor by then.

(Everyone wants the best for their children. I am no different...)