The legacy of Monster TV and how I was seduced by Sky+

Paul and I have spent the last two weeks living in Dawn and Bobby’s house in Earlsfield. Not as weird as it sounds. They were away on holiday and needed someone to keep an eye on their beloved feline companion, Boo. See below.

While Boo mostly ignored me unless I actually had her food bowl in my hand, she instantly fell head over heels in love with Paul and him with her. Any opportunity she got she draped her little ginger body over him, followed him around and ground her little face into his beard and since Paul has never had any pets, I think it was a particularly special connection for him.

I had a slightly different focus though. We have been living in a house where our primary TV in our lounge is about 20 years old and has an illustrious history. My former house mate, Justin, bought it second hand off Gumtree when he first moved to London, about seven years ago, taking it from house to house until Astonville Street where we lived together. When he moved out he graciously left behind the 40-ish inch, pre-flatscreen, 20kg TV beast for us and the legacy remained until I eventually brought it to Hartfield Road with me. Along with Dawn’s old off-cast Freeview box, I thought we had our entertainment made.

That was until I experienced Dawn and Bobby’s 46-inch, HD ready flat-screen plugged into a Sky+  HD box… we’re talking crystal clarity, the option to record multiple things at one, goodness knows how many channels, live pause and series linking.

Two days… it took me two days before I quietly suggested to Paul that we might also need to have Sky, Sky+ in particular. He took little convincing especially when we discovered a brilliant deal on a Sky+ box, the catch being that the free box was a HD box… and you just can’t have a HD box if you don’t have a HD TV, can you?

So tonight I am watching Masterchef on my new 32-inch LED HD ready TV (on special of course and thank goodness our lounge is too small for a 46-inch monster) with several things Sky+-ing away in the background. Do I regret it? Not for one fucking minute although I don’t believe it has done anything for my patience as I now have almost no tolerance for anything where I can’t fast forward the adverts. How quickly one gets used to such luxury…

And what happened to Justin’s old TV? Well I couldn’t let the old monster go to waste so I put it on Gumtree, where it came from and it was picked up, this time for free, by a young Scottish gentleman who, according to Paul, seemed very pleased with his new “entertainment system”. The legacy lives on…

90′s flashbacks, ass kickings and Branson the butterfly

It has been a bit of a chaotic, unpredictable weekend. Paul and I started off by popping over to Shepherd’s Bush to see the recently reformed Reef. Some of you might know them as the band that did the dancefloor filler, Place Your Hands. We were just in time for the headline which possibly wasn’t ideal in the circumstances. The downside of gigs where bands have reformed is that they’re full of music “tourists”… the kinds of people who do not go to gigs often, for whom live music is not a lifestyle and who blatantly do not get the etiquette. Some things are not done at gigs. You find a spot and you stay in it. You do not roam incessantly to and from the bar and the toilets while the band is playing. It is disrespectful and it ruins other people’s experience of the show. You also don’t talk loudly through anyone’s set and you certainly don’t take up residence at the bar or barrel through the crowd spilling your drinks in other people’s shoes!

But putting the vile crowd aside, the band was awesome. Their grungy surfer vibe strangely hasn’t dated and they are very tight for a band that hasn’t played together for some time. Front man, Gary Stringer, once again long of hair as he was in the 90’s doesn’t say much but he’s totally captivating and in watching him live I discovered that my beloved friend Josh has an older twin. For those who know Josh… observe… this is Gary Stringer and Reef doing a little song called Naked. He even moves like Josh!

We left  revitalised after a glorious four-song encore but I’ve got to say that She Bu is 10 times rougher than Brixton at night. I would not like to go roaming around there after dark alone.

On Saturday we took temporary leave of the glorious weather to take in Kick-Ass at the cinema. Paul and I were in definite agreement that this superhero-with-a-twist film is a total winner. Geeky Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson) is absorbed in comic books and his best girlfriend (who thinks he’s gay) but after he gets mugged one too many times by local thugs he decides to attempt being a superhero. Dressed in scuba gear and armed with a pair of batons, he has some success until he gets in over his head and is bailed out by the “real deal”, pint sized prodigy, Hit-Girl (Chloe Moretz) and Big-Daddy (Nicholas). It isn’t long before David realises he’s thrust himself into a situation far more sinister than anything he ever could have imagine and that being a hero, super or otherwise, is nothing like in the movies. Go  see… it’s fabulously funny but also extremely dark.

I can't read your mind. But I can kick your ass

When we got home the sun was still high in the sky so we had our own little party in the back garden with a couple of beers and a deck of cards (we have an ongoing rummy contest that we take up whenever the opportunity presents) before checking out Doctor Who episode 4 (may I say that I LOVE Matt Smith as the Doctor… LOVE and that season 5 is so far IMMENSE) and being utterly terrified by the Weeping Angels.

Shudder

As we umm-ed and ah-ed about what to do next, Wilhelm and Fara arrived home and invited us to join them for homemade burgers. Burgers were consumed, beer levels were topped up and eventually we all ended up in the Pig & Whistle. By the time we arrived it had already turned feral and not only were people dancing on the tables but there was mini-hysteria. We even got overrun by a dog. It was all so strange I half expected a clown on a unicycle to come through and for us all to realise that we’d woken up in one of those experimental German music videos that Wilhelm likes so much. In any case it was all a lot of fun.

I felt like I was having less fun when I had to get up at 6 to accompany Paul in supporting his colleague, Cat, who was running the London Marathon. I will admit that Paul did offer to let me stay in bed but I made the choice to go along and despite the crowds bringing out some of my less desirable qualities… I get crowd rage like some people get road rage… I was very glad I went along. Cat did a great job and finished well and we got to see a series of ludicrous costumes, including Richard Branson in his butterfly wings, but best of all I got to see Colin at mile 12 and he was kicking ass. I might even volunteer to go down next year again!

Tonight I am home on my own for the first time in months. Whether I spend the weekend at Paul’s or he comes into London I normally spend Sunday nights at his house but it just wasn’t practical this week. It  feels very strange being on my own and I don’t like it… I never thought I’d say that… I don’t like being on my own…

30 Day Meme: Day 28 – My holiday in some detail

This entry is supposed to be this year in great detail but I say bollocks to this year in great detail! It’s only fricking April plus this is a diary blog and I’m not into repetition… well unless I’m writing poetry. Instead, I bring you my holiday in Devon in (some) detail.

I think I have to start out by giving my sympathies to Paul who began the entire trip at a disadvantage after being assigned to travel in the “girls” car with Em, Leilah and I and was referred to as a “girl” for most of the rest of the holiday. I know you’re all man, baby

Me and my housies!

Our journey to Clovelly was quite an arduous one marred by traffic, people slowing down for Stonehenge and subsequently for the pig farm directly thereafter. In the words of Tyrone, “it’s like you go past Stonehenge and think, it’s not that big and then… whoa… look at the size of that pig!” However with good company, good tunes and a hefty pub lunch to keep us all going, it was rather pleasant.

Our “home” was a charming wooden cabin with a bathroom containing what Paul nicknamed the “Dalek shower”. It not only had a radio and a steam function but it shot out streams of water from all kinds of bizarre angles and, with the exception of Tyrone, I don’t think anyone fully mastered its operation. It did look cool though.

We made a venture into Clovelly itself which is mostly comprised of steep inclines, cobble stones, cream teas and gift shops. It’s very pretty but I’m not sure the residents should be allowed to charge £7 entry into it or that we should have taken the treacherous back entrance in order not to pay! Other than this the only real venture out was to the beach and being total city people Paul and I elected to stay home and play cards. Are we lame? Maybe… but we’re also happy.

Nature and stuff

Many drinking games were played, including the bizarre “spoons” than nearly ended in violence several times. We also learned that the point at which you’re really drunk is not the right time to start playing Lord Of The Rings Monopoly, eight people will never agree on a film to watch, if you let Oli wear the bunny ears he will yell, “get some Easter up ya!” at passing cars, it takes Paul and I about 15 minutes to make our bedroom look like a student flat and when Tyrone gets his kite out, duck!

Get some Easter up ya!

In short it was very relaxing, a lot of fun and I would highly recommend a sojourn to North Devon to anyone!

I ended the weekend by heading back to Chelmsford with Paul so we could watch Doctor Who together, two days late but still exciting. I have to say I’m completely sold on our lovely new doctor as well as his feisty companion. The first episode was an absolute triumph! Roll on a new era of Matt Smith and Steven Moffat. Not that I won’t forever hold a space in my heart for Ten…

30 Day Meme: Day 3 – Your Favourite TV Show

I almost went with Doctor Who here but since my knowledge of Doctor Who only really spans the ninth and tenth Doctor I don’t think I can claim it as my own so I’m going with my beloved Mighty Boosh. It’s kind of hard to explain if you’ve never watched it but let’s just say that the major characters are best friends Camden leisure pirate, Vince Noir and jazz-obsessed Howard Moon and their faithful friends Naboo the shaman and a talking gorilla called Bollo. It is utterly surreal, completely unpredictable and beyond hilarious. The world is divided into those who get the Boosh and those who don’t and really… I have my suspicions about those who don’t.

When adverts go wrong…

It’s time for one of my advertising rants again. Do you ever watch TV and wonder “what are they on?” when the ads come on. There is no doubt that there are a lot of ads that are just plain lame or boring. You know the ones that show you a whole bunch of sofas with prices or the ones with a families eating cereal. But then there are the adverts that are so outlandish… that they’re impossible to swallow. Couldn’t get videos of all of them but there are four basic categories:

Outlandish… where it’s difficult to even figure out what the hell the concept was. According to Always Ultra having your period is like having a pinball machine in your pants. Umm… what? Even if this were true, how would this be a good thing? Have a happy period, my arse!

Does this look like something you'd like to have in your pants?

Outrageous… where it’s hard not to be stunned that the advertiser expects you to believe this crap. Like the Nivea Pearl ad that tries to convince us that a guy’s favourite part on a woman’s body is her armpit? When was the last time you heard a guy shout, “nice pits, love?” at a passing woman.

Nice pits, love!

Incomprehensible… where you’re not sure what it is you’re actually supposed to buy. Take the Aviva one with the Newcastle football supporter complaining about how he can’t ask his friends to chip in on car insurance even though the drives them around… well I think that’s what he’s saying since I can only understand every third word he says… plus the guy is just damned creepy.

Offensive. While everyone is (rightly) up in arms the minute it’s insinuated that women are incapable of doing something or are less than mentally agile. However, Oven Pride have somehow managed to get away with this little gem, where they flat out claim that men are generally too stupid to clean an oven. I don’t care if it’s been cleared of sexism, it’s not funny, it’s not clever, it’s down right lame!

What are your worst ads?