Posts filed under 'Random Thought'

‘Neglect’ is a seven letter word

Good morning sports fans!

I am sorry for the absence of sports-related articles on the Beans and will have to continue this apology even further because the next few paragraphs will also not contain anything to do with any sports whatsoever. Not even famous headlines this morning such as Manchester United losing to Manchester City, or who won the rugby world cup (awful score).

We have however got a lot lined up for this week including a peek at Des’ree and her helpful hints with YOUR lives, a pig in a phone box, countless pieces of pointless poetry, some very very good inventions and possibly even a cash-in tie-in with something. There’s at least one thing everyone is looking forward to in the coming months it’s just that nobody wants to mention it out loud and spoil the ethos, apart from several employees working in my office who love to announce how many days are left.

Still, at least nobody is forcing you to listen to Let Loose.

October 24th, 2011

The Unluckiest Man in the Universe (spoiler alert!)

Luck; does it exist or not? It’s a very good question especially for a Monday morning. Rather than complaining about coming back to work (always a good start) or moaning about traffic (it’s getting harder and harder without an actual car) an idea popped into my head. Out of all the characters I have ever watched, read or heard about who is one with the least amount of luck?

It was obvious really. I mean who else could it be other than Luke Skywalker from the original Star Wars trilogy?

Luke’s life is a plethora of mishaps and unfortunates. Starting from the beginning he is born at the beginning of a massive change of events prompted by the death of all the jedis, his mother dies, he is forced into hiding then separated from his sister, he lives a dull and monotonous life on a barren planet helping his crotchety uncle and aunt farm weird things and drink blue liquid. Things should turn around by now right? But no.

Then Luke meets an old man who turns out to be the best friend in the world and allows himself to die, then he follows him around as a voice which personally I would think would have made me believe I was going mad. He falls in love with a woman which turns out to be his sister. He gets beaten up my a snow monster on the planet of Hoth. He is bullied by a small green man with a stick and Frank Oz’s voice. He loses his arm in a fight with the second most evil man in the universe, who just so happens to be his father, bring back years of abandonment issues.

His other best friend gets encased in carbonite and then when he is rescued starts going out with his sister. Luke finds out the only way to become a full jedi is to kill his dad. He gets electrocuted severely by the Emperor then watches as his father dies right before him. At the end of it all he has gained a sister and a brother-in-law (practically) and his only companions are his two camp droids.

I’d say that must easily be a winner.

September 26th, 2011

Freckled Faces (or Feaces)

In preparation for the forthcoming Papples album I have been working on some new material. It’s been a hard process, especially with the second half of the Paps being so far away, and one which has taken its toll on my fragile little mind. I had a strange daydream where I imagined that within a woman’s face I saw another face and that I decided that the face within the face was the face of a woman who I should be going out with.

So, in the dream obviously, I ditched the woman with the face and went looking for the woman with the face within the face. When I eventually found this particular woman I relayed the story to her in a musical format, plucked sheepishly and played ever so badly on a ukulele. Then when I woke from my daydream I started writing some lyrics down to describe this event.

It’s a shame the lyrics weren’t very good though. In their broken down, half-arsed way they show potential. I hope to harness that potential like a sloth and whip it soundly to bed:

You wouldn’t believe the journey I’ve had
It’s been a long time coming
My face is a little jumbled so I hope you don’t start running
It’s a curious story of sorts
Let me dabble in your thoughts
I’m looking for a thesaurus
I’m not quite ready for the chorus

I was seeing this girl, she was freckled to the max
This was important, I’ll keep to the facts
One day I looked into her eyes and missed and hit her cheek
And tracing lines between the spots I couldn’t help but peek
There traced was a face
That was your face
Your face was on her face
It had to be a sign

Your face on her face
It was unquestionably yours
Your eyes under her eyes
I shouldn’t say anymore

How do you find a face
You’ve seen on another face?
It’s a Herculean task, make no mistake
I’ve powered through cinemas
Supermarkets and streets
I’ve sieved the shops and churches
At the expense of my feets
Every nightclub in the area I have scoured
Every bouncer overpowered
I get thrown out a lot for knocking on the ladies
“I’m just handing round a drawing man
Not trying to make babies!”


I picture you in fragrant meadows
Red dresses and silk
Hiding under brollies, sipping Irn Bru
Napping under quilts
The fact that I have found you
Despite all of the odds…
Actually now that I get a good look
If I’m being true
I was expecting something more
Give us your number and I’ll get back to you


Little known fact: This post contains more ‘faces’ than any other post ever posted.

September 13th, 2011

Hypothetical Question

If one morning you woke up, as usual, and prepared to go to work, as usual, and had your breakfast and drank your coffee or tea, as usual, and put your coat and shoes on, as usual, and you get into your car, as usual, and turn the key. What, then, would you do if the car wouldn’t start?

Furthermore, if one would continue to ponder, if you went to open the hood of the car to check the engine and you discovered that the engine had, in fact, been stolen and replaced by one made out of dry pasta shapes, what would you do?

Would you call the police to report a theft?
Would you call your insurance company?

Or would you bag up the pasta, take it inside and, after work, collect the ingredients to make a lovely pasta sauce?

2 comments August 16th, 2011

Man With A Box

I have today, whilst carrying a box, decided that a good idea for a short film would be a man carrying a box. Who is that man? I do not know. What is he carrying in his box? I also don’t know. There are many questions that need answering before Man With A Box can come to fruition. I hope that it does though.

I feel as though we need a project to re-energise the beans and re-group the members. After the collective shambles that was moving Chris into his new flat and how we almost destroyed each other I suppose we should return to what we originally did; wasting our lives on film.

I see a low budget. I see flimsy acting and non-existant scenary other than the streets, and everyone knows the streets come for free. I see it lasting only ten minutes and you both editing it in less than a day. The script is practically written.

Leave it to me; I’ve got this!

1 comment August 9th, 2011

Gig Stereotypes – Your Handy Guide

If, like me, you enjoy live music then you will be drawn to places where live music is being played. The size of the venue may differ. The price of the tickets will slide up and down depending on who you’re seeing. There is a constant that remains though wherever you go and whoever you’re with. With live music comes the gig stereotypes. There are many different types that you will come across but for your benefit the main offenders are listed below for your pleasure:

1. Smoochy Couple – so you’re trying to watch and the couple stood immediately in front of you from the point where the band or the artist comes onto the stage right up to the end will slosh and swoon and swap saliva for the entire duration. They’re not there for the music; they’re there to piss you off. If they wanted to sit in the dark they could have saved money and stood in the alley round the back. I might suggest this the next time it happens.

2. Mr Trendoid – he has crap hair, a striped t-shirt and tight jeans on. He will cop off with the most attractive woman in the room. He may even have arranged the gig itself. In a perfect world he would have been glassed on the way in.

3. KERAZY Girls – giddy, young, reeking of perfume and looking like, bless, prototype French prostitutes, these brazen, bronzed and buxom ladies will gather together in large groups within your field of vision. They are the most excited people in the room even though a lot of the time they don’t have a clue who it is they have come to see. It doesn’t matter; they’re there to be seen not to see. It’s the trendiferous factor. They’ve heard of Band A from their clueless friends or read about Band A in NME and, noticing they’re playing soon, purchase tickets. They fling their arms about and push their way to front. Hell, they may even be willing to drop on their knees and offer a blowie. Who knows.

4. Talkative Friends – nobody is expecting you to stay silent like a nun the whole time you’re there, but you will come across two friends who, probably stood just to the side of the smoochy couple, will chat constantly. You will half hear their conversation whilst the band stops one song and starts another. Their heads will duck back and forth, desperate to share something that clearly couldn’t wait until the end of the encore. Occasionally they’ll both laugh, neither one taking in what is happening right in front of them. Their persistence, whilst admirable initially, makes you want to punch them even more after five minutes.

You can’t change anything. No matter what you do they will turn up and they will try to ruin your life. My only advice is to learn to embrace their foibles and accidentally knock their drink over when they’re too drunk to notice.

August 2nd, 2011

Dad Joke

I thought of this today and hated myself immediately:

Joke: What does Gok Wan say if someone is trying to buy him a drink but he’s already got one?

Answer: Gok Wan, thanks.

… don’t tell me how much you hate it ‘cos I already know.

June 20th, 2011

The Death of Minty-Fresh

It is the end.

I have been with someone for what seems like a lifetime and was littered with so many happy moments that it is hard to know how to feel right about now. On the one hand I am happy for them to leave this existence, to fly to another world and seek happiness wherever they may find it, however I too am crippled with despair and depression at the prospect of being alone. It’s the multitude of feelings that are best conveyed in poetry but we all don’t have time for that.

I have being associated with the shirt known as “Minty-Fresh” for at least three or four years which is practically my entire stint from the North East. It has been on heavy rotation each week serving my shirt needs for Monday and Wednesday; the shining light when compared with its darker brother (who still doesn’t have a name). I have sweated my fullest, have walked through countless streets and eaten a variety of awful, awful lunches when housed in Minty-Fresh. I have seen sunrises and sunsets, the skies cracked open like the devil’s trousers, the soft snow on my cheek.

That all has to end now.

Unfortunately because Minty-Fresh smells so badly, and because I didn’t get a chance to give him a once-over with the Febreeze, he is still hanging at home during his last week as a shirt. Nonetheless he will return stronger than ever before I tear him up into strips and use him as dusters.

Be strong, sir, be strong.

May 31st, 2011

Man Musk

As I walk, she walks with me.

As I play, she plays with me.

I look back and all I can see is her, everywhere, like a French sunset of brilliant colours. An obsession writhing on the beach.

I am with one with her and myself.

You will never know it but you can feel it. Feel it every day.

Man Musk by The Saint King.

December 13th, 2010

Fraudulent Cake

It has recently come to my attention that a lot of people like muffins.

Now I’m quite open-minded about a lot of things but let’s face it people, a muffin is a cake. You can’t take one thing and just give it another name because it sounds swanky. I’m bored with the tired argument of ‘Is a Jaffa cake a biscuit or a cake?’ because it is taking the attention away from the ones who need sorting out. Muffins are first on the list. Unless anyone would like to speak in favour of muffins I vote that we stamp them out as quickly as possible and replace them with the name Breakfast Cakes. Who’s with me?

7 comments April 29th, 2010

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