Driving Observations

So it’s been about four months since I passed my test and steadily I have gotten used to the bizarre idea of driving around without someone criticising every mistake I make, at least not inside the car. There are several critics in other cars desperate to point out my shortcomings. It has come to my attention though that the five gears of an automobile have their own personalities and it wasn’t until I started driving on my own that my mind could comprehend the uniqueness of each.

It’s only fair then that I compile a list in numerical order:

First Gear (the Angry Gear)

First gear doesn’t like you. It makes this very apparent seconds into driving. It’s loud and shouty and if you don’t stop using it and move into second it’s going to do something VERY BAD to you. So you change up to…

Second Gear (the Confused Gear)

You’ve made it past the short tempered one and into the gear that is never sure whether it should be slow or fast. You try to tempt it one way, not happy. You put your foot down to speed up, not happy. The only way to bring it a shred of contentedness is to move on.

Third Gear (the Boring Gear)

Your “best friend”. I seem to spend a lot of my time cruising residential streets in third gear. There’s not much to it. Once you push it into third you hear yourself tutting because it tries too hard to please you without any success. Nobody likes a try hard.

Fourth Gear (the Smooth Gear)

Slip into fourth and things seem much better. You’ve got some speed now, you’re building it up, you feel like some progress is finally getting made. It’s a good gear to be in. You cream around curves like a crab covered in custard. But uh oh, you’ve accelerated faster than you should have and need to prepare for…

Fifth Gear (the Couldn’t Give a Toss About Anything Gear)

Stepping into fifth is mostly good. You’re there at the top of the spectrum. You can only go faster now, and faster you will because you can. Shame then that if you happen to hit something at this speed you’ll more than likely die. If you had an accident in third it would call an ambulance and put you in the recovery position. Fifth wouldn’t even take off its headphones to check if you were still alive, and it’d spit on you as it drove off into the horizon.

When you’re driving look out for these character traits. For a fun car game why not give them names and draw cartoon versions of them on napkins? Not you though, you’re driving. It would have to be someone else. If you have friends, that is.

Newsboost – National State of Emergency

David Cameron was pulled out of a meeting with Slovak prime minister Rovert Fico earlier this week to address the worrying concerns of a growing number of residents in the North of England. Mr Cameron has yet to comment on the crisis but it has been confirmed that he has cancelled all subsequent engagements for the remainder of this week to focus on the problem. His worried face and damp forehead were enough to confirm just how serious the matter was; the Gasgoignes in Garforth was practically empty on a Friday night.

Our two correspondents who were there on 19th June quickly passed on the information which filtered through to No. 10 in the early hours of Monday morning.

It was approximately 11pm, a time which should have seen drunken youths and self-tanned middle-aged locals swarming around the place like locusts over a corpse. Previous evenings have seen up to ten minutes passing without service at the bar. This particular evening was so quiet the lights were already on and bar staff were cleaning up for the day after. The four aged women in the corner left shortly after. The remaining patrons were a small party near the dining section, including children, and our intrepid reporters. The situation was so dire only one round was bought before exiting.

The last time was also particularly worrying as the entire establishment was closed before they even arrived.

Mr Cameron is expected to address the media before the weekend with a disaster management plan which will more than likely set up a three stage recovery system, possibly beginning with cheap shots up to 10pm and a free adult bouncy castle until closing.

Speculation is rife as to the reason for the lack of business. One can only hope that the disaster management plan reacts quickly enough to prevent any further catastrophe.

Father’s Day

I’m not really one for days of celebration; there are far too many to keep up with. For every distinct, sincere and sensible one there are seventeen other silly ones that some berk in a beard in a boardroom decided was a great idea such as Spinning Teatowels Day or Tap Someone on the Shoulder and Wink at a Vegetable Day. These continue to regularly appear on my Twitter feed as though I should give two hoots. I wouldn’t even give one, barely half.

So when it comes to Father’s Day I suppose I should offer up both hoots, and I do. I load up both barrels of the hoot rifle and let rip with all the riposte and energy I’m known for. It was to my complete amusement and amazement then when the following item was placed in my hands by Reuben approximately two days before it was even Father’s Day. He was that excited he couldn’t wait until the correct day:

What does one say when presented with a set of marshmallows containing one’s son’s face in various different guises? We took the piss out of my brother for wanting a cake with his own face on, which he eventually managed to obtain thanks to Asda, and this is essentially the same technology. So why is it different? John did always love himself and this was something more honest, more wholesome and less narcissistic. The boy had come up with the idea all on his own. Where he had heard that someone could scan an image of his face onto confectionary I don’t particularly want to know, but what a present!

I’m almost hesitant to actually eat them. Luckily you’re also given a scan of the individual photos so that once you do pop them in your face hole you can remember them forever and always. You will forgive me then if I do disappear in a timely manner to attend to an unconfirmed previous engagement…

New Addition

It was on a warm summer’s afternoon some time ago that I chanced upon the marvel that is Flat Kitty in a charity shop down main street. I knew instantly that I wanted this cat and nothing was going to stop me from getting her. Since then, well, we’ve all heard the stories before: the rising star, the claim to fame, the eastern European sitcom (previously available on the triple disc NiSH box set, currently deleted) and the multitude of fans in every corner of the globe.

There has always been one problem though; she was the last of her kind. No matter where I looked another of her ilk could not be found. For years she has wanted but only for the soft, warm touch of a friend or a partner to watch the sun set over the River Tyne, and it seemed that this was about a likely as a NiSH reunion (as the three members are still going through legal wranglings).

Fear not no more for last weekend Madge was scouring the decks of the Tynemouth market only to find this shining beacon of hope:

Tiger Kitty, for this be his name, may be from a different time and a different place but his unquestionable thirst for wuv could not be satisfied until he met Flat Kitty.

Early reports suggest a big, celebrity wedding could be on the cards as early as Spring 2016.

The Trip Home

Last weekend was mostly spent discovering how difficult it is to be a rapper. Not only in spirit but also in words, and that whilst I may be adept at sweating lyrics I’m not particularly great at spitting them. In any case eventful as the Saturday and Sunday were they could not prepare me for what was about to happen on the train ride home.

Kevin was selfish enough to leave the train at York to go home and see his wife, or whatever. What was I supposed to do for the next hour and a half until I reached Newcastle? Luckily we had clocked an acquaintance of mine in the other carriage, Tony, and thus once Kevin had departed I moved down the train to sit with Tony and his friend Tony. Their other friend, Tony, had unfortunately had a few too many drinks before getting on so when he tried to leave and piss on the platform it took Tony, Tony and Tony to restrain him and drag him back to his seat.

Tony meanwhile regaled me of their antics over the weekend, which mainly consisted of football, sausage rolls and soiled pants. Tony couldn’t help himself and bellowed down to his counterpart, Tony, who had sat in the wrong seats, and ridiculed him openly much to the bemusement of the other passengers. Tony had passed out, which was for the best. It also meant that Tony and Tony could join myself and Tony for a few drinks of our own.

It didn’t take long before Tony was waxing lyrical about all manner of subjects. It reminded me how lucky I was to know these people who were so generous and kind and lived a rich and wonderful life. One only had to gaze upon the cheery faces of the rest of the carriage to know that I had made the right decision to move into the group and join in with the camaraderie.

Newcastle station came all too soon and it wasn’t long before Tony and Tony climbed into the back of Tony’s car and all four of them left into the darkest night. Tony helped Tony into a taxi leaving Tony to wait for his wife to pick him up.

I only wish every journey could be as memorable as this.

Kevin’s Beans

The new website has been up for a while now and seems to be doing swimmingly. There has been a wealth of information passed between these hallowed halls and I don’t know about you but my life has been fully enriched as a result of all the posts.

There’s someone though who hasn’t really seen the benefit. Our Kev, Mr Chang, Senor Menendez, whatever you want to call him, has been too busy watering his shutter pipes and shining the biff rafters to contribute anything. His bean count is very low and so in order to try to boost his levels I have come up with the following product:

This way Kev will have a multitude of promiscuous beans the whole year round and doesn’t need to worry about those pesky hard, dried up peas.

What I Should Be Doing

When I was a child I was, at first, convinced that when I grew up I was going to work as a space cowboy. It seemed like an ideal life: rounding up space cattle, eating space beans and flying through space on a jet-powered horse called ‘Rosie’. I don’t remember the exact point that life took my dreams and put them through a chundle mixer and told me that was a silly idea but it happened and thus I never got that ranch, those chaps or that hat.

Present day sees me sitting in an office living the giddy life of an office man. I mean I’m not chasing away space thieves trying to steal my space butter yet that doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is that this is not what I should be doing.

An evening in the company of one Kevindo Menendez opened my eyes to the world that is just beyond reach. They say that you never quite know what you’re good at until you give it a try, which obviously means that deep down I have the required skills and expertise to be a washing machine repair man. I already have the small, girlish hands for those tiny electric whatnots and for squeezing into those hard-to-reach areas. I look good in anything that’s not a shirt and tie. I can drive now so even if someone needs a washing machine repaired in New York (not that New York, the one in Tyne and Wear) I can step up to the challenge.

All I need now is some business cards and I’m up and running. They won’t have a picture of a crab on them but, by the beard of Graham Norton, they will announce to the world my real calling in life!

Pointless Purchases of the last Six Months

I mean, come on now. There was no way that I could keep purchasing things that I couldn’t use nor needed in any particular way. This blatant frivolity had to stop at some point and that point is now.

That is until after this post. This will represent the last of the ‘Pointless Purchases’ posts because what with having a car now and being a proper human, I mean adult, I don’t have any spare money to be frittering away on unopened video games, no matter how much they’ll fetch in a couple of years time. It’s best to go out with a bang though; give ’em something to remember you with.

So here’s what you’ve been waiting for; amiibos. Nintendo’s controversial answer to Skylanders and Disney Infinity which would take too long to explain all the why’s and the how’s. I own 22 of them in total. All you need to know is the following:

1. In order to use the amiibos you need a Wii U, the successor to the highly successful Wii console. I don’t have one of these so they all remain in their boxes.

2. You can also use them on the updated versions of the 3DS handheld consoles. I do own one but it’s still sealed in its box.

3. Even if I tried to use them with the 3DS I couldn’t. They have been specifically designed to only be used by taking them out of their boxes, and I don’t want to do that because I think they look nice in their boxes.

Take a deep breath, take a bow and leave the stage. It’s all over now, baby blue.

I will miss my pointless purchases.

Pouring
Beans

Author: Ian “Toasty” McIver