Author: Ian “Air Travel Regulations” McIver

Avatar Chris and Ian’s Rap Battle

So here we have it.

These two giants of the rapping world have been teasing this for the last couple of weeks and the hype has reached unobtainable levels. Ian “Flashback” McBugle and Sheriff Rockingham aka Chris Marshall, both ex members of pioneering genre-bending super group ‘The Rapples’, are gearing up for what is expected to be THE rap battle of the week, maybe even the day.

If you’ve been monitoring their comments you’ll know the frenzy that surrounds this encounter. Tickets have been sold out for ages but you lucky, lucky people get to hear the whole thing as it happens right here on Beans FM.

Both competitors are still at the top of their. Sheriff Rockingham has been flexing his vocal muscles on a recent jaunt abroad, amazing the locals with his keen observations and spilt-second timing. Flashback, however, has been trawling the mean streets of the North East, picking lyrical fights with pensioners trying to buy stamps at the post office.

Take a seat, ladies and gentlemen, this is going to be a bumpy ride. Over to you, boys…

Avatar Soggy Hula Hoop – A Poem

Just because I am about to ruin everything by injecting a healthy dose of sleaze into the Beans doesn’t mean that I still cannot occasionally touch upon things of a more mature calibre. Last year I was out on a wander and I came across such a beautiful image that, as well as engraining it deep within my soul, I took a picture to capture the elegance.

It is so wonderful that I am hoping to submit it in the CEWE Photo Award 2019. Why should I keep it all to myself when this kind of gift should be shared with the world?

So, musing on all of this, I concocted a poem to express how I feel. It will never come close to truly expressing the warmth and pulchritude of it all but I hope to appeases all of you (i.e. Chris) for now:

Soggy hoop, fragile loop,
Can you feel the rain?
Moistened crisp, kissed with this,
Are you still the same?
Hold you near, disappear,
Never to exist.
Gone are you, gone anew,
Seasoned in the mist.

Avatar What’s New and what’s Shrew – Mackers

Hello

So now that we’ve hit the big cheese January shake-up, who is clamming for their next head-dunk into the world of greatness? As I am still assuming the role of Sherpa for you ingrates let me rustle up a steaming batch of hot sauce to keep you in the good books:

  • Fashion – light up your eye bulbs with this. So everyone thinks that lemonade sink holes are worth pursuing? Yeah, like a dog with cramp. Ditch that has-been and opt for Serlo Pumps, the best kind of shoes straight from Bulgaria. They’re sorted, they’re sassy and they’re climbing up your drainpipe for a little sweetness. Don’t close the window yet. If you’re ever gonna out-do Amelia Jossdon, with her pencil skirt and jam sandwiches, you need to plump up for pointed jodhpurs. That will make everyone scream like Mr Sheen.
  • TV – can you believe that they made eight seasons of Desperate Housewives? I gave up many, many moons ago yet for some reason and haven’t been back since. I expect it was because the smug voice-over put me into a coma every time an episode started. Russian export ‘Boots to the Roots’ is the latest new thing where famous people trace their family history, find distant relatives they’ve never met then turn up and kick the merry shit out of them. Australian docu-drama ‘Wazzock Paddock’ is also turning up the heat on both sides of the world. In it, a select group of idiots are kidnapped and thrown into a large paddock where they are asked questions to try and change their sexist / racist / misogynistic views, and if they don’t an angry kangaroo is lowered in. 
  • Art – can beans be an art? Yes, they can. In honour of the wonderful food and snack Barry Wombfoot has enlisted the help of 100 people to create a massive hill of beans at the bottom of Ben Nevis in Scotland. Once it has been erected, Barry will use brown sauce to draw a picture of Phillip Schofield 200ft in the air whilst being suspended from a helicopter. To slightly more mundane activities where young artist Lilo Peel has knocked down her parent’s home in Dagenham, Essex and will build a new house entirely out of office supplies she has been stealing for the last two years from her place of work. The piece will be called ‘Self Eviction’ and has been both condoned by the Local Council and lauded by industrial showbiz wonderbot, Gary Wilmot. 
  • Film – it’s a bit slow this time of year what with everyone gearing up for the awards season. That still hasn’t stopped the previously banned trilogy of films by Winky Bowson from sneaking into select cinemas in London. ‘Chop Chop’, ‘Chop Again’ and ‘Chop Chop Away’ have received the remastered treatment and for the cost of one sandwich in London (£365.17) you can catch all three in a special midnight screening in Camden Town. I won’t tell you why they were banned but let’s just say that you can’t do sit-ups that way anymore, times have changed and you shouldn’t use banana yoghurt in that capacity.

So there you go. You can waltz off into the night, safe in the knowledge that your level of cool is still off the chart. I’m running down to Doncaster for a nice sherry.

Avatar Mandolin – A Song

Let’s crack off 2019 with something that I should have done in 2018.

I set myself a challenge whereby I was to write and record a song about a Mandolin (the chocolate bar, not the musical instrument) using a Mandolin. I wrote the song words, or lyrics as they are commonly known, and even worked out a basic rhythm with which to astound the listeners with. Sadly, when I tried to record it all on my very primitive phone, it was not good enough. I did expect this to happen, as I don’t own any proper recording equipment like everyone else does, so the project was duly shelved. That said, I do not want to deny the public what is a very beautiful song. Here we are then. Make up your own tune. It’s yours for the taking:

“Hit me, mandolin,
You don’t think that I can handle him so
Hit me, mandolin.
My arms bent over like a pangolin so
Hit me, mandolin.
You see that growing? It’s a dorsal fin!
That’s right, yeah, mandolin,
It’s much, much bigger than a phantom limb.

Oh, trick me, mandolin,
Writing my way to the loony bin.
So strict, yeah, mandolin,
The nurse on hold for my next of kin.
I left my mandolin,
Picking up pieces of a mandarin.
You’re on me, mandolin,
Hiding in shadows like a mannequin.
So leave me, mandolin,
I’m sick an’ tired of ya panderin’.
You heard me, mandolin,
I’m done, it’s over, time fo’ finishin'”

If Pharrell Williams or Dr. Dre are listening, I am free in March to collaborate on any future projects you may have.



Avatar Hot Beans (TM)

This is my last post of 2018.

It hasn’t been the best of years for me personally however 2018 needs to end on a positive note. We must all remember that a new year means new possibilities and opportunities, and we must not dwell too much on the past. Try not to worry, this is not going to dip into one of those emotional, conscientious posts (did we ever have those?). Far from it. 2019 is going to be the year of…

HOT BEANS!

Our demographic has been severely limited to say the least. We need to start attracting a crowd guaranteed to be scouring the internet at least 24/7. And who likes the internet? Everyone. Why? Because porn. Yes, starting next year we will be incorporating the best of adult entertainment into the already racy strands of Pouring Beans.

I can already tell you are salivating at the prospect of nudie pictures and hot videos of, erm, someone on someone action. And quite rightly so. We may be British but we can still rock it and shove it up the right place like the best of them.

So stay tuned for all of this and much, much more. Hot Beans (TM). 2019, baby.

Avatar Potato Nostalgia

Around this time of year a lot of people get nostalgic. They remember years gone by, people who have left us and happy memories sitting next to your toxic gas fire, using the flames to make toast, rather than getting up and using the grill, like the little fat bastard you are (or I was).

Whilst I was rummaging around in some old papers I came across this little gem:

A single tear flew from my eyelid and hit the ground, no doubt causing a tsunami half a world away.

Pots Tatoas were my very convoluted and confusing way of asking Chris if he wanted to get a baked potato for lunch way, way, way back in the dim and distant past when we both worked in Leeds city centre.

Sadly we all missed Pots Tatoas Day this year but I hope that everyone puts it in their diary so we can rally round and stoke the oven (?) in time to enjoy its merits next year.