tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90855654981617218582024-03-13T01:51:44.464+00:00Jon CheshireAn idiots guide to the wise words and mad ramblings of Jon Cheshire's world from the new city of milton keynes, UK. Totally biased opinions on music, film and the media. Politics, sex, bingo wings, food, comedy, writing and extreme ironing.
The thinking mans keepnet.Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-54445599346099830052012-03-13T15:19:00.002+00:002012-03-13T15:24:06.729+00:00Methi business<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With the impending doom of the big 50 at the weekend I have
been cajoled into a curry with my good friends Pete and Al this evening. I say
cajoled however that’s not really true as I tend to be drawn to a curry much
like a rat to a drainpipe, or Jimmy Krankie to the wrong school toilets. In
fact I actually really <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>love</u></i></b> Curry. Tonight however there
is a small amount of hesitation after taking a quick look at the <a href="http://www.methirestaurant.co.uk/our-menu.html">Methi Indian restaurant</a>
in Leighton Buzzard and finding they offer in the starter section ‘Special
Horse’ I’m hoping it’s a typo, but if I was a betting man I wouldn’t put money
on it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILEQlC7ZiwpVHNiJKB7KNflND0h4P6PIEnwEvCiMDry69MsyJ-60QdevlRS6SkSsfweSnRwknkQZPMfa6craBTZKVCvJ0-KBf5koGsIuHVBCDQO5FDNQO4uc_G6asH4a9a1n0bV8M4-Pr/s1600/horse.jpg" /></div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-76280151602891987942012-02-16T19:16:00.001+00:002012-02-16T19:31:11.549+00:00Swiss missThe recent heart warming story about the Cory drain technician <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2101311/Cleaner-hands-21-000-Rolex-police-finding-drain.html">Arron Large</a> who found a £21k Rolex watch in an Essex sewer system, then found another two the day after reminded me of my recent brush with untold riches. Having been a bit strapped for cash over the last 49 years I was enthused just before Xmas by my mother’s mention of a gents and ladies watch that was for sale at the charity shop that she works in. She couldn’t remember all the details but stated that they both were silver in colour with a dark blue face and had a certificate of authenticity by the manufacturer. When pushed on the subject of the maker she suggested that it started with an O, AND the gent’s box had an original price ticket of about £300 quid on the outside of the box. After a little digging around on the interweb I surmised that the two watches must be made by the Swiss manufacturer<a href="http://www.goldsmiths.co.uk/categories/watch-selection/oris-brand?cm_mmc=google-Watch%20Brands-_-Oris%20Watch%20-%20Phrase-_-oris-_-Phrase&gclid=CJTOvfGbo64CFQcRfAodQkexRw"> Oris</a> who’s site didn’t display a timepiece of a similar description under about two grand so I acted cool as I called her back and stated that I would be happy to give the asking price of fifteen pounds each. My mum called the shop and the two watches were safely stashed in the safe until she next went in. Unlike Saint Arron Large who doesn’t want to build his hopes up of a mad mid March cash bonanza I had already spent the monies that I would be assured from some of London’s top watch emporiums. In fact due to the lure of easy cash I even became a bit of an expert on the tip top Swiss manufacturer and it’s authorised outlets for the more discerning ‘buy em cheap and sell em big’ charity shop scammer. Unfortunately, when she next went in it was found that the timepieces were not actually Oris but some bizarre far eastern persuasion and the local watch shop suggested that either could be bought over the web for about £20 quid AND batteries for both would be about £18 pounds. So this now begs the question of what kind of twisted twat would put a price ticket of £300 on a crappy watch and then donate it to a charity shop. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpnyhu9TKG2XhIQilmgf2XfkCA_Nukrm9GMUlKCKT-apYJYYieLG9lL47WAGYZsIAcTse5EZXeGpzZoB3hZBwhZNP8oqCex25A3DdpvvVMKWKETTZ34j3jpVmYk9YN2CR6M84eX3_MP9H/s1600/oris+watch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpnyhu9TKG2XhIQilmgf2XfkCA_Nukrm9GMUlKCKT-apYJYYieLG9lL47WAGYZsIAcTse5EZXeGpzZoB3hZBwhZNP8oqCex25A3DdpvvVMKWKETTZ34j3jpVmYk9YN2CR6M84eX3_MP9H/s1600/oris+watch.jpg" yda="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A watch similar to the one I didn't buy</td></tr>
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What’s wrong with the world?<br />
<br />Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-26661427607528991092012-01-25T23:14:00.000+00:002012-01-25T23:54:19.090+00:00Light Fingered<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifg4xsr4TtCMcmbELJjLTo7pYGd5uRFpcujipUd1v7rzbxa26GlLDNUbgYbMxqALuVkgZQh00asuPBKv3m6A5WKqqqpPc5yKSkdjIGILMPWBCbPzVduPCuS3YIye2TRUjXFxlItoqIKNVx/s1600/meter07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifg4xsr4TtCMcmbELJjLTo7pYGd5uRFpcujipUd1v7rzbxa26GlLDNUbgYbMxqALuVkgZQh00asuPBKv3m6A5WKqqqpPc5yKSkdjIGILMPWBCbPzVduPCuS3YIye2TRUjXFxlItoqIKNVx/s320/meter07.jpg" width="290" /></a></div>
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During a meter fit today, the householder, a gentleman who could ‘physically’ be best described as Victorian Dad shared a number of views on the state of the nation, what’s wrong with young people and one of the most fiendishly clever coin meter bypasses I have heard of from the 1950’s / 60’s . The story went that, on one of the Gas mans visits to collect the monies from the meter; he included a new check of looking under the coin slot area for a small hole and rusting. Apparently a number of people had been producing coin size discs of ice and inserting them into the meters, which would enable them to twist the handle for more gas, and then in time (as long as a hole was drilled) the coinage would melt and the general score would be Supplier; Nil – Customer; And Some! </div>
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Whilst he told of this devilish <strong>3rd party behaviour that he had never participated in</strong>, NO IN FACT during the entire 30 minute meter fit he must have attempted to light his pipe at least 2 dozen times, which after a short while became a total fascination for me. Finally after about half an hour of no ignition I said that I was finished and he put the pipe down. </div>
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I can only presume that this was all part of his New Year’s Resolution No Smoking campaign which he was inadvertently enjoying through his wife’s comedy ‘No light’ joke box of matches? </div>
<br />Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-9779668293635414492012-01-16T23:00:00.011+00:002012-01-17T00:06:24.301+00:00Caught between a Frock and a hard Bass (not saying which is which)Today I stand before you with my reputation of being one of Leighton Buzzard’s true hard men, lying in tatters after attending a party on Saturday night in Bedfordshire’s premiere narrow gauge railway town. Like both Grant Mitchell and his step brother Ross Kemp, I used to rule this manor with an iron fist and an involuntary twitch, but unfortunately dropped my guard at a belated 50th birthday bash for infamous Bass fondler Nicolas Beggs a couple of nights ago. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red hot iron bar type head piercing for Jon Cheshire!</td></tr>
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The venue for this extravaganza was <a href="http://www.barbuddha.net/">Bar Buddha </a>in Leighton’s bridge street which in <strong><em>our</em></strong> youth was (amazingly) the one and only LB music shop. For sensible musicians; brass, woodwind and generally things that are unstrung or don’t need to be hit really hard, the ground floor was a haven to highbrow harmony and studious musical bookwork, however should you ever wish to pass over to the dark side in the basement (<a href="http://www.closedpubs.co.uk/bedfordshire/leightonbuzzard_ewelamb.html">the booogaloo basement</a>), then a flirtatious wink to the salesman trying to close a deal on a Wurlitzer organ, along with frantic pointing (downstairs) would always ensure a quick, and quite pleasurable assisted exit by a clean cut member shop staff down through the special door and into the cellar and the walls of drums, guitars, effects and amps. Although I am now referring back to the late 70’s, there was still definitely a feel of 1960’s psychedelic about it and its patrons, with lava lamp swooshing blobs of colour projected onto the brick walls and jostick smelling afghan coated hippies attempting a Hendrix lick or at the very least a Jagger pout. How could you not love it? <br />
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Of course these memories were high on the topic of conversation on Saturday evening whilst we stood amongst the<a href="http://www.rightbiz.co.uk/buy_business/for_sale/66222_bedfordshire.html"> £250k (2011) refit</a> and the slightly higher specced ,Taliban hating, laser guided pin spots that scour the room resting dangerously on folks temples for the briefest moment while ‘Good Times’ by Nile Rodgers and Chic is cranked up. <br />
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So what of the incident, I hear you ask?<br />
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As the throng dispersed a bit and the birthday boy became tired and emotional, I noted amongst the 80’s starlets the recognisable features of ‘Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy’ and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYasAcvRiyQ">Birds Eye beef burger actress </a>Sandra Dickinson emerge and proceed to strut her stuff at the tender age of 63! Before I knew what was happening, the Beggs was cutting a rug with the blond bombshell and I was forced to show them my ultimate dance move ‘the gravedigger’ and some experimental jazz body popping, that Twist and Pulse would have been proud of. Obviously, without the glare of the media and paparazzi I could have laid low for a while, but feel sure that even while we speak that Nik Kershaw or at least one half of Go West is now uploading this to youtube!Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-61373628253632636622012-01-08T21:13:00.018+00:002012-01-08T22:12:57.316+00:00W.T.F.I think Steph finally got over my freelance contemporary art sculptures just before Christmas when this bespoke item left the Cheshire workshop for its new life in Bedfordshire, gracing the garden of Leighton’s second best Bass player. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_a4YNlai4z6R1Mlgf1ORZcx4IhEDfkyL-WcFX1-i32t57cgztPqUQZASZIa1x4EvF05tXnZ9n7ObE_XY8pDJoqGrtaZMLR_-M6xe5I5Y2uqwpXGRYWwzMU1RLptn-uszFUf1kT2vTsMT/s1600/Walking+the+Dog+059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_a4YNlai4z6R1Mlgf1ORZcx4IhEDfkyL-WcFX1-i32t57cgztPqUQZASZIa1x4EvF05tXnZ9n7ObE_XY8pDJoqGrtaZMLR_-M6xe5I5Y2uqwpXGRYWwzMU1RLptn-uszFUf1kT2vTsMT/s320/Walking+the+Dog+059.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bespoke Art by Jon Cheshire</td></tr>
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When I say she got over it, I really mean <strong><em>it</em></strong> didn’t ‘get under her feet anymore when she went into the barn! So with that gone a small amount of room emerged, in which you could possibly swing a small compliant cat, or stash other important stuff. In the absence of an understanding circus based feline it was given over to other stuff and the <strong><em>now</em></strong> completed<a href="http://joncheshire.blogspot.com/2011/12/treasure-chest.html"> Pirates chest</a>. So just prior to xmas, it was a little bit of a shock for her to find a huge steamer trunk plonked on the kitchen floor as my next project. When she protested I had to admit it was in fact slightly worse than she first thought because the bloke had actually sold me TWO! Obviously things have moved on with ONE of the steamers now, and a shabby chic new home will be found for it once I have located and fitted a lock to the front. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5u1gyQA-Ie3-DDbcTg2q2hH-pLpU3Ie8JzcHd9OBXS0YxuFkwS3H1g1lqYmCpOo_iLCIcIpknKCWtI8TxUKU82raZKwjNmb6zXNf69ZkH7tgv_DbkWXQcuXzBSv1sIiQB8snMPkODCwS6/s1600/steamer+trunk+FR+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5u1gyQA-Ie3-DDbcTg2q2hH-pLpU3Ie8JzcHd9OBXS0YxuFkwS3H1g1lqYmCpOo_iLCIcIpknKCWtI8TxUKU82raZKwjNmb6zXNf69ZkH7tgv_DbkWXQcuXzBSv1sIiQB8snMPkODCwS6/s320/steamer+trunk+FR+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorry it is a bit out of focus and still without a lock.com</td></tr>
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Today I went to the car boot again and purchased a vintage kitchen scale for the ongoing relentless money making refurbishment of www.cheshire-antiqueinternational.tat.co uk.Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-73784142935957811012012-01-07T23:25:00.010+00:002012-01-08T14:01:33.769+00:00Its only the 7th Jan!!This morning started with a bang. Well, two to be precise. Yes with Christmas and the New Year now weighing heavy on my bank manager’s nether regions and making him a bit grumpy, and my new 2012 sock collection already over shadowed by the number of cheque stubs, the great God of electrical appliances, Saint Euronics looked down upon us and frowned twice this morning. <br />
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Firstly our extensively used dish washer, which I believe to be one of the greatest inventions known to man since Fairy washing up liquid and Nanette Newman, gave up the ghost and ground to a halt. Four rounds of washing and drying up later I finally managed to hang up my tea towel, and bravely move on to a little light ironing. Two thirds of the way though this and having completed only the right side of a favourite shirt there was a loud click and all the power went off. Having spoken badly about 2011 unfortunately I found it necessary to question 2012’s parentage as well.<br />
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Knowing a little bit about the workings of a modern electrical supply and fusing I deduced that the Iron had just committed hari kari and threw out the RCD in the fuse board. Of course I should have questioned whether Breville (who manufactured the iron) really knew what they were doing in the first place. I mean, to make a sandwich toaster is one thing but an iron where the key ingredients are electricity and water..... well, need I say more. It’s horses for courses and know your limits isn’t it. You wouldn’t ask the Germans to run a comedy club or the French to make breast implants so it stands to reason that the mechanics of compressing a couple of bits of bread and lightly warming them through against harnessing 240 volts in a metal shell with added water and steam is a totally different ball game and should be left to the professionals. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So unfortunately by mid morning I was in the doldrums and pretty pissed off with my lot, only able to look forward to negotiating access through our neighbour’s 'jungle' garden to fix the fence that had been recently blown out by recent inclement weather conditions.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>So to sum up;-</em><br />
As long as I don’t ever need to go out in any clothes that have been ironed again and only eat food directly from the packaging, thus negating the need for any cutlery and plates and washing up I believe everything should be ok. Other than that it’s the Shabby Chic look for me along with lemon fresh leathery hands!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-56673419270334308112011-12-31T17:20:00.010+00:002012-01-02T09:33:06.621+00:00Treasure Chest<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kq3npKFV1TM/Tv9D6PsuJVI/AAAAAAAAA58/dkKBYqIGGpU/s1600/pine+trunk+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kq3npKFV1TM/Tv9D6PsuJVI/AAAAAAAAA58/dkKBYqIGGpU/s320/pine+trunk+002.JPG" width="320" /></a>I always wanted a pirates chest (You know, anchor tattoo, hair like coconuts mixed with parrot droppings etc) and as luck would have it couple of months ago I saw this little beaut at a car boot from a house clearance bloke who was making some wild claims that nothing from his stall was more than 50p. So 50p later I was the proud owner of this delightful little black box, which once had been owned by Mr B Binfield of Malta. I knew this because it had been sprayed on the top along with some additional bespoke yellow artwork. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I was convinced that all I needed to do to make my dream come true would be to strip everything off of it, then sand down to the original pine, taking in of course, many years worth of dubious Maltese paint and a car sumps worth of oil from the floor of the box to make it into the finest pirates treasure chest ever,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-35288780835915135892011-12-27T21:22:00.026+00:002011-12-28T02:14:52.222+00:00The REAL Miracle of Christmas<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tim</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Firstly, a couple of weeks ago my cousin Tim, in a knee jerk reaction to my review of his hit channel 5 show <strong><a href="http://joncheshire.blogspot.com/2011/06/supersize-grime.html">Culvert Clearance</a></strong> from June, where I likened him to WW2 moustachioed dictator wrote to complain and explain the word culvert; <em><strong>an enclosed watercourse conduit usually at least 10 times longer in length than its diameter, hence not a bridge</strong></em> Which was both lovely and fascinating. He also suggested that I write the script for <strong>Culvert Clearance 2</strong> where he will do all his own stunts, and not have to wear inflatable braces, or water wings . <br />
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Then, whilst preparing a live CD for my good blogging friend <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/">Phil Gardner</a> of one of his favourite crooners I decided to hold out the sharpened end of the olive branch in an email to my old band mates, who technically own ¼ rights to our back catalogue. In the true spirit of Xmas I was immediately called by Peter ‘Sticks’ Kill who enthused about the project but then asked for an advance on the royalties. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jon and Pete</td></tr>
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">That evening Trent 'Brent' Baker forwarded this missive to us all;- </div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brent and Marina</td></tr>
</tbody></table><em>Dear Bear,</em><em><br />
</em><br />
<em>Superb news. I look forward to that. Blimey. There was some rare and truly brilliant material from that </em><em>Show. </em><br />
<em>Lovely Moon. Rainbow. A version of Sarah featuring sticks Kill on Megaphone Marina on </em><em>armchair and newspaper.Truly mental.</em><em><br />
</em><br />
<em>All yours in HUGE anticipation.</em><br />
<br />
<em>Brent</em><br />
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Then, finally bringing up the rear, after stalling in the traps for some time, Mr Michael J Kitson suggesting a reunion gig / download / Last Waltz push for the band <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mick</td></tr>
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<em>Dear Bent and Trere and Pete </em><br />
<em>Yes superb news indeed. I remeber that show well. I was ver ver drunk.</em><br />
<em>I suggest a reunion now that we are all nearly 50 and before our prostates get too big.</em><em><br />
</em><em>Love you guys</em><br />
<br />
<em>Mick </em><br />
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</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>On the back of all this goodwill I have since visited Trent and Jane just prior to Christmas and wished them season greetings. Had an very funny email discussing the downfall of Joe Walsh (No, not the one from the Eagles) from the boy Kitson AND have been promised unlimited roadie and sound engineer support should the next Cary Grant tour include Brighton by the multitasking Phil Gardner.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phil</td></tr>
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Now that (Ladies and Gentlemen) is the true miracle of Christmas! <br />
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Peace and Love<br />
<br />
Jon / Bear / Trere<br />
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<em></em>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-83052547568805288892011-12-17T23:31:00.006+00:002011-12-18T00:11:15.087+00:00Golden YearsI have fell out of favour with blogging just recently due to an overwhelming number of extraneous projects and the deep dark depression that tends to gather all around me like an ill fitting three armed Christmas jumper at this time of year, along with the associated cost hangover that will be a banging headache felt well into 2012. Yes technically, I am the Grinch throughout all the festive season, only taking time off during the brief few days between boxing day and New Year’s Eve when I am <strong><em>then </em></strong>hit by an all time low, facing up to the realisation that whilst my life is not too bad, the previous year has in many ways just replicated the one before! <br />
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Having said all that, more than one of the extraneous projects have now come to fruition and I can reveal <strong><em>one </em></strong>of the fruits of my labour for Pete’s 50th birthday treat;-<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTc3EiOZcQjLh2Mnz5EjThyphenhyphenpQK_LGeqm3XPe-5B6h8DeS9S7gCzsEe4lGgl4QhYwz71ivEmjtukE10r2xLil6JiuMcM2rPKqxD-PnpKCM15yd_TZ7baw82gKA136nBfOJ1RyqBt7kDcxa/s1600/CG+gold+disc+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTc3EiOZcQjLh2Mnz5EjThyphenhyphenpQK_LGeqm3XPe-5B6h8DeS9S7gCzsEe4lGgl4QhYwz71ivEmjtukE10r2xLil6JiuMcM2rPKqxD-PnpKCM15yd_TZ7baw82gKA136nBfOJ1RyqBt7kDcxa/s320/CG+gold+disc+011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>As I am sure that many people who have a downstairs loo will confirm that apart from a Glade ‘Touch – n-fresh air freshener, a gold album is their number two’s all time favourite wall hanging. Although I don’t believe that this has actually been hung yet in his new mock Georgian three toilet house, I am fairly confident that this gold disc will bring its owner and many house visitors some light relief in difficult times to come.Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-57500170237273839272011-11-19T20:19:00.000+00:002011-11-19T20:19:11.369+00:00That's too big to be anything I really recognise?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Who says there is no such thing as a free lunch? Kirsty and her flatmate Amie came home on Thursday evening saying that they had had a series of texts from their Derby Uni friend Georgia on their way back to MK, telling how she had<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>answered the door to a tall dark stranger, who presented her with a large (no... a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">very</b> large) bag of meat. Whilst she swooned at this lovely gesture, the secret meat millionaire slipped back into the Derby darkness without explanation, leaving Georgia to ponder how wonderful this spontaneous gestures of ‘love’ for her flatmate really was. Unfortunately when her flatmate returned (as I am sure you have already guessed) she knew nothing of the beau, nor any offer of free meat! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The really intriguing thing is that NO-ONE could actually identify the meat, but felt sure that a small piece of chicken skin had been placed on top as a distraction! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The case continues. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-25567122627814018152011-11-07T17:32:00.007+00:002011-12-18T00:05:29.216+00:00When the boat comes in, Rubbish!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNv6A28Ue-iYzBYgz-hrw_SZBOXTDvuHJWtn-lolrEVvscb1mZfHIxfdO3FrMVHDKJ9elSOz4-Tq0NQmSjE7BFSOdlZPs6fGqSu3hG8oI-gFUUt-Rv93V7uy5IHci5_jvugwYnqkQnIXb5/s1600/bournemouth+4th+november+2011+364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNv6A28Ue-iYzBYgz-hrw_SZBOXTDvuHJWtn-lolrEVvscb1mZfHIxfdO3FrMVHDKJ9elSOz4-Tq0NQmSjE7BFSOdlZPs6fGqSu3hG8oI-gFUUt-Rv93V7uy5IHci5_jvugwYnqkQnIXb5/s320/bournemouth+4th+november+2011+364.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>Whoever said that there are plenty more fish in the sea, was both delusional and stupid. After getting up at 5 o clock on a Saturday morning we started out on the 2 ½ hour trek down to Bournemouth. A good run by anyone’s reckoning but still with about one and a half hours too much “Are we there yet” by the bloke who was driving. Although the BBC’ s old seaweed weather predictor had us down for a blowy day with a possible short shower it was generally very nice, and by early afternoon even the sun had got his hat on. <br />
The captain had obtained detailed information off the interweb and held up a small picture of a bloke on a boat with a back drop of sea and stated that this is where we shall go to “It’s a fish magnet.” I personally didn’t recognise that bit of the sea from the picture but he assured us that we couldn’t fail to catch. After a long time and a couple of cups of tea there was one fish caught by our salty old seadog capt’n, which was some sort Bream who we called Jim, but due to the fact it was so small and possibly in danger of being eaten by the bait we had to throw it back before we could obtain a microscope. After these early successes we moved to nearer the boatyard which was (apparently) another hot bed of specimen fish. By this point It had become quite clear to me that the Commons Fishery Policy isn’t working and it is highly likely that those swarthy Spaniards creep into Bournemouth harbour under the cover of darkness and catch the flounder and Bass and then replace them with miniature OCD crabs the size of pesetas. I say this because one of our crew whose name I will not divulge due to his campest of casts, (the likes we had not seen since ‘Priscilla the musical’ had a girl’s night out with Craig Revel Horwood) actually managed to catch about half a dozen of these miniature crabs<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsANNfmRYGwEMwBXPtZ_Rv8-f4RrpFzXRhKY1yRIWV3RRFOlIm2cereHZbzI5egsygljW9xKtjcy_N7SQF6XHjSopmrN3nu7_l9pv7wf_S9hf3_-HjXQEuvd3dJDyFZglX13gw-EHBWNh/s1600/bournemouth+4th+november+2011+359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsANNfmRYGwEMwBXPtZ_Rv8-f4RrpFzXRhKY1yRIWV3RRFOlIm2cereHZbzI5egsygljW9xKtjcy_N7SQF6XHjSopmrN3nu7_l9pv7wf_S9hf3_-HjXQEuvd3dJDyFZglX13gw-EHBWNh/s320/bournemouth+4th+november+2011+359.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unfortunately, other than the one micro Bream and a turn up full of dwarf crabs that was about it, but in the great tradition of all good fishing trips we still had enough ‘the one that got away’ stories to fill about 10 minutes for the two and a half hour drive back.Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-38146976306251679432011-11-03T21:02:00.002+00:002011-11-03T21:09:23.088+00:00When Chickens Attack!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZFuCs7VLF4rRBaHqywxnDY-kBILY9HLVUTSug5CljNmSp9Uc3_xghhTWTNBIC7fYjp2-1pNpygaVcJbG4Zh4-K-h0PKfSPBD8xbpqXuNKzrEICtyyMRdvUyYh-1Zs5z5ZXvGN2Qifz3A/s1600/wanted+chickens.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZFuCs7VLF4rRBaHqywxnDY-kBILY9HLVUTSug5CljNmSp9Uc3_xghhTWTNBIC7fYjp2-1pNpygaVcJbG4Zh4-K-h0PKfSPBD8xbpqXuNKzrEICtyyMRdvUyYh-1Zs5z5ZXvGN2Qifz3A/s320/wanted+chickens.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There is a limit to how far I can be pushed, and I believe I may have been very close to it this morning when I was abused by speciality chickens. Yes, whilst on yet another errand of mercy to save people money the world over, by meter / tariff switching I was shown into a garden in the east of the city which could be best described as somewhere between a salvage yard and a mud wrestling pit. Having eventually found the cleanest place to put my tool box I proceeded with a number of electrical checks only to notice the owner’s son slipping and sliding across the garden to a small wooden structure like a reluctant Glastonbury festival toilet cleaner. The next thing I know is the door is flung open and 6 speciality hens shoot out like circus acrobats landing only occasionally feet first. The boy then gets trailed to the shed where He finally emerges with some feed. All hell breaks loose and the lad retires to a safe distance whilst the mosh pit bubbles with feathers and mud. I of course fear nothing except maybe Snakes on a Plane 2, but find myself clocking the large black one as he starts scratching around the garden ever closer. At one stage I found it necessary to go inside to the fuse board and when I got back he was perched on my tool box, with a guilty look on his beak. <br />
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Quite simply I do not get paid enough to reduce debt, fight climate change and wrangle chickens in a swamp, and definitely won’t be going back.Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-26495428503820209122011-10-30T20:13:00.007+00:002011-10-31T02:01:40.490+00:00FascianationI have been off this week doing a number of undercover and over cover projects. The undercover (by the very nature of the title) will have to remain secretive at present, but may (lets say) fall loosely into the category of Art and Design and shall be mentioned at appropriate times in the future. The over cover project has been to replace the fascia to my Mum and Dad’s bungalow, that has been ravaged by time (a little bit) but mostly to stop the’ knock, knock, point’ of passing fascia and barge board salesmen that hang around Leighton Buzzard dealing their over cladding services OR predicting a doom laden future for people too stupid to take up their <em>highly discounted easy payment schemes</em>. So the plan was to circumnavigated these scammers and avoided the national DIY (stack em high, sell em expensive) outlets and purchase the products from a local, open to the public, trade supplier which worked out very reasonably indeed. In fact it all went swimmingly well until rain stopped play on Tuesday afternoon and then again on Wednesday, before I got the guttering back up. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRG3VLcjaMNfjGojqjtIMtgBMFQyWbokZiEbSyJrMUJjUTND8ayF27j2mxtC-PEy_N83_PIIWczYwbT3HVfa93_ymcXECOmBquvxWBgonqTr21SdosfKubs7eCD86JqyZJABQG8cLMPdat/s1600/Cheese4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRG3VLcjaMNfjGojqjtIMtgBMFQyWbokZiEbSyJrMUJjUTND8ayF27j2mxtC-PEy_N83_PIIWczYwbT3HVfa93_ymcXECOmBquvxWBgonqTr21SdosfKubs7eCD86JqyZJABQG8cLMPdat/s320/Cheese4.jpg" width="320" /></a>Of course I do these things because I love my parents dearly, but <em>really</em> it’s due to the little pearls of wisdom that would be lost to overpaid contractors if I didn’t. Here is one such fact that was imparted over a cup of tea and a cheese Bap. When my mum was growing up the man next door used to wash both his feet and socks at the same time in a bucket in front of the fire. I’m sure I do not need point out that this was many years ago in more austere and less privileged times and to drip dry your socks in front of an open fire was all the rage, and the idea of putting your socks in the microwave to dry like we do these days would have been regarded as witchcraft. The other thing about visiting my parents is, as practising Herbivorous (they like to call themselves the more socially acceptable Vegetarian Freaks) that their total reliance on cheese and cheese based products is virtually like religious fanaticism. On Monday I had a cheese roll and then on Tuesday it was cheese with a little bit of onion. Wednesday, however they started playing some mind games and mixing it up by serving up one small cheese roll with Branston and the other without. I am absolutely sure that somewhere in a previous life they must have been Mr & Mrs Smorgasbord who started the cheese Moonies.</div><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I, Sweary Pat and others donned two toned shoes to skip the light fandango on Friday night to bowl again at the Enormo dome. The trouble all started when the barren status of the Guinness pump first hit Pat and the realisation that the bowling bar staff’s resolution to this calamity was to advise us to walk some 100 yards or so to the <a href="http://www.xscape.co.uk/milton-keynes/concessions/map/bowling?TB_iframe=true&action=map&height=450&keepThis=true&width=580">First Base bar</a> and then return to the bowling with his favourite tipple. Pat would be best described as quite Irish, and little bit sweary! Don’t get me wrong he knows when NOT to swear, I’m guessing he would do really well when He’s sleeping or under anaesthetic, dead, etc. Anyhow, after much discussion and due to our stout inconvenience, he has now received a number of free bowling tickets. Unfortunately for City Limits or to give it its correct title; Spirit Pub Company I am reasonably sure that this is not the last that they have heard of this.</div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-84209270904733881982011-10-21T21:12:00.001+01:002011-10-21T21:25:43.175+01:00Ironic IrrigationI have flame proof trousers. These are trousers that can contain both internal and external explosions of a fiery kind. Some claim, I am sure you will agree. I also have a similar equipped jacket with some Hi Viz panelling on the back, and also a Dale Farm full face visor that is terribly P.C. but a little dented!<br />
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Anyway, whilst wearing this stuff yesterday (except the visor for religious reasons) at a local cash point at Tinkers Bridge I was approached by two women and an inquisitive husky who smelt me up and down. Not the women, just the Husky. <br />
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The woman with the dog lead then said “You can leave the gas man alone” to which I retorted “I’m Electric”<br />
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She winked and then said “I’m sure you are honey”<br />
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Was she being ironic?Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-38570077694136041282011-10-13T21:04:00.007+01:002011-10-15T09:22:56.159+01:00Bucket LispJust recently I have fallen into the ways of a single man, due to Steph having taken a job of care in the community. This generally means that she starts early and finishes late and sometimes even has weekends during the week. Add to this mix, my on-calls which run from the time I finish in the afternoon until 8 o clock the following morning and you have a recipe for some irregular mealtimes, bedtimes and bowel movements! In the words of Bill Nelson and Be Bop Deluxe we are currently like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCvWqNo8TWc&feature=related">ships in the night</a>, crossing paths for a brief moment and really wondering about the nutritional value of pot noodles * <br />
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Unexpectantly this has also had a small upshot to some additional ME time, where I have done a little bit of recording on my <a href="http://joncheshire.blogspot.com/2011/05/fool-and-his-money-are-soon-parted-like.html#links">all new( 80’s) portastudio</a> and also given some thought to a potential bucket list. <br />
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My initial thoughts for the bucket list are<br />
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Record a selection of self penned tunes under the title of the ‘The night the wheel came off’ ** <br />
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Spend more time in Florence (the Italian city, not the large footed but strangely attractive magic roundabout character)<br />
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See the pyramids<br />
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Finish Sea Sick Steve! (I know how wrong that sounds but here is a picture of the canvas last year) It hasn’t moved on much.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bit to the left (bicycle spoke) is not mine, but the Seasick bit is! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Dissclaimer<br />
*I dont think Bill Nelson ever mentioned the value of a pot noodle meal!<br />
** One of the original album titles for the second Cary Grant album by band member, Peter Maurice Kill<br />
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Must try to add to my bucket list!Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-57798880524305302832011-10-09T13:53:00.001+01:002011-10-09T13:57:44.618+01:00CMK, big shops & headachesI only ever go to Central Milton Keynes twice a year. Once just before Xmas to buy trinkets and things for loved ones and associates, and then again just after to take stuff back... Oh, and of course should Cliff ever do any more <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sn9mLnKmPco">speciality roller skating classes</a> then I would be up there quicker than a robber’s dog! Unfortunately though, I was recently honoured with the CMK shopping centre meter reading job which is about as enticing as lowering your genitalia into an active food mixer or actually being the self opinionated air head that is Alesha Dixon! The real problem with this job is that when you state to any member of sales staff and most managers that you need to see the electric meter you may as well be asking about astrophysics in Swahili due to their pained expression and comments like “I don’t even know where that is” Many enjoyable hours were lost to this pointless and frustrating game this week that will never to be returned to me. Add to this the rather annoying habit that the company has of often only putting the unit number or the name of the holding company in the address to be found and it sometimes feels like trying to find a needle in a very large 1980’s haystack with pay and display car parking. Having spent in excess of 20 minutes in the Disney store with the promo of the all new Lion King I really do now know about the Circle of life. Likewise in the Anne Summers store whilst on another fruitless meter hunt we only managed to find a confused freelance bra fitter from Luton (well that’s what he told us) and what I think must have been some comedy outtakes DVD from Casualty, called Doctor and Nurses in Bonkers 69. Krispy Kreme, well don’t even go there! The only one that was quite uplifting was Bravissimo where we received support in finding the meter by a CMK Security guard in two of the large loading bays. <br />
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Ok I am making light of it now in a tribute to Carry On sort of way, but when I really had the stuff to sort out it wasn’t too much fun!Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-69355646814268404422011-10-02T16:49:00.008+01:002011-10-02T22:20:41.321+01:00In the name of Art<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I have been working intensely in my laboratory this week on a speciality art piece to celebrate Lisa & Phil Gardner’s first wedding anniversary. As discussed before on this very blog, Phil rose to international fame for flogging pictures of his pet cat in the shower to scurrilous newsrooms and paper moguls the world over. Still living high on the hog with a constant stream of royalty cheques amassing in his Swiss bank account and operating from a penthouse apartment close to one of Brighton’s trendiest stockbroker belts and braces charity shops he claims the cat grooming and abuse is all behind him, but....... </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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Early on knew this would be a difficult build and shoot realising quite soon after getting into MK’s Bowl boot sale last Sunday that a <em><strong>relaxed muscle</strong></em> action man was more difficult to find than rocking horse doo doo (and that had been a right stinker a couple of weeks ago) As luck would have it I did find a fully poseable Retinal Screener Ken action figure and decided to go with that and a very large dose of poetic licence. Once home I was able to remove Screener Kens head with a sympathetic hack saw / chisel and appoint all my time on the finer facial details adding at one point 3 eyes due to an over enthusiastic super glue moment but finally plumping for the more traditional 2 eye and permanent marker eyebrow combination. Due to pressing time constraints and a world shortage of miniature Persian cats I was forced to move into the unchartered territory of Photoshop. Luckily I was able to call on one of the finest Derby & Milton Keynes based exponents of photoshopeee <a href="http://www.kirstycheshire.co.uk/">Kirsty Cheshire Photography</a> .Within hours she confirmed that she had enough Photoshop to do the job and soon <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2011/10/its-amelies-third-birthday-any-normal.html#comments">produced this.</a><br />
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Whilst this art business is mainly about swanning around in smocks with a glass of wine in your hand, there still is some sweat, passion and even disappointment like when the greeting card police came in and confiscated some of the early test shots (like this one) for being too risqué.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">If it’s good enough for Botticelli then it’s good enough for me</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_wEiDQWVCoji9i-0EFLoyM5Xz6rh70XpQSSj1EoexQ4xaSC4_69TYe-UGIPar45wVjj-xMbKXYDpVZ_i0odTu1r1C0RKdJKclS8PsXD4IitboppNAnta1wdIhYVyVhjYLd_8jiFYOyRc/s1600/phil+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_wEiDQWVCoji9i-0EFLoyM5Xz6rh70XpQSSj1EoexQ4xaSC4_69TYe-UGIPar45wVjj-xMbKXYDpVZ_i0odTu1r1C0RKdJKclS8PsXD4IitboppNAnta1wdIhYVyVhjYLd_8jiFYOyRc/s320/phil+002.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-10681692357040550882011-09-25T11:30:00.009+01:002011-09-25T12:34:40.824+01:00Estate of the nationI believe I am quite a grounded individual possibly due to the fact that I have hung out with royalty, eaten their ridiculously small cucumber sandwiches AND received <a href="http://hopesandbodies.homestead.com/files/polydor_letter.jpg">hate mail from Fergal Sharkey</a>! So when I rock up to ‘private property’ like <a href="http://www.mkheritage.co.uk/sga/Gayhurst/gayhurst-today.html">Gayhurst House</a>, and towards the end of this week the <a href="http://www.courteenhall.co.uk/home.php">Corteenhall Estate</a> in Northants the opulent splendour of the grounds and general attitude of people that wander around their estate in hats made from dead birds doesn’t faze me despite having a number of chance meetings in the past with like minded land owners who, should they have had another sherry and any more bad news from their brokers would have shot me dead for trespass! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwTrJXWZosWg0KRIfDAB-Npo0rRZrcJpzFu61mWEHPDBdJnHj-ZI_5UuyvaFUPdj6-bw4Nkxg2e9AdlbdeexhUm03APHsJG-yIZ3XVoBvTGbxAabXwPKoQAesNR8QPlxXgEWI9drC7dTu/s1600/heath+woods+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDwTrJXWZosWg0KRIfDAB-Npo0rRZrcJpzFu61mWEHPDBdJnHj-ZI_5UuyvaFUPdj6-bw4Nkxg2e9AdlbdeexhUm03APHsJG-yIZ3XVoBvTGbxAabXwPKoQAesNR8QPlxXgEWI9drC7dTu/s320/heath+woods+029.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Corteenhall Estate this week was fine though and as I drove through the beautiful sunny autumnal afternoon splendour of a bygone age there was no sign of any chinless wonders, only the occasional farm labourer chasing a chicken or laying man traps close to fuel storage tanks for members of dale farm to enjoy later. On the subject of the travelling community camping illegally on your land I was offered this little pearl of wisdom by the farm manager as the best possible action to be taken. When it last happened to the neighbouring farmer he took his big tractor to the illegal encampment and after a polite suggestion that ‘they might like to move on’ picked up one of the mobile homes on the fork type attachments and proceeded to head for the gate. When one of the pikeys protested and stated the obvious that it wouldn’t go through the gap sideways he reassured them that there was no need to worry as he would just tip it over the hedge! Apparently at that point they all decided to move on.<br />
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During some very rare ‘ME’ time yesterday I drove over to <a href="http://www.greensandtrust.org/stockPark.html">Stockgrove park</a> which has some lovely woodlands and a lake with a view to enjoy in the late afternoon sun. I always find this very relaxing and good for the soul only to have my anticipated peace and tranquillity shattered by the fact that the fascist owners have now installed barriers and a £2 fee for parking. Because I had already invested over 10 minutes of travelling time and possibly £5 pounds of petrol into the trip I reluctantly paid and displayed and trekked deep into the forests of Bedfordshire gnashing my teeth. It was an absolutely glorious day and the flora and fauna soon made up for it, but then I came across this;-<br />
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Yes, <em><strong>Dangerous tree and Wasps nest</strong></em> along with crime scene tape! No sign of either so I can only imagine that wasps had moved on after getting stung (like me) for the two quid parking and the dangerous tree was being cautioned by the special branch.Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-9843186427137540292011-09-18T13:30:00.001+01:002011-09-18T13:40:52.634+01:00Thank God it's SundayI know someone who is scared of the sea, which from a land locked, land lubbers perspective does initially seem a little strange however put yourself on an old tub of a boat on some excitable waves with a force 5 Hooley whipping up and then I am prepared to (and did earlier this year) possibly give your Thalassophobian the benefit of the doubt. Yesterday though, whilst we looked after Steph’s cousin’s two boys and during an intensely busy duck, swan and other assortments of aquatic fowl, bread feeding session we had a brief but hard shower at which point one of the boys started screaming and crying and it transpired that he has a fear of the rain. Even once in the car the hysteria persisted until we could think and explain ALL the good things that water provides us with; i.e. bath night & wine, a majority stake of about 96% in the manufacture of beer, mediation between sand and cement and giving real purpose to pond pumps the world over. After this and the rain stopping he seemed as right as .... Well I think you get the gist. <br />
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Having got over that little dilemma successfully, in the afternoon I made the trek to Asda to purchase their finest handmade pizza so that we could just chill out until X Factor is on, and then argue about the actual definition of talent! Unfortunately Asda in Bletchley who strangely likes to be called George is situated between two unruly neighbours, Mr Ikea a slightly eccentric Swede who loves to build things made of MDF and the football mad M.K. Dons. Often on a Saturday Mr Dons has people round for a kick about and Georges parking is so full up that you have to drive round and round until eventually you run out of petrol. Yesterday just prior to this happening I chanced upon a vacating car and got parked up. As I walked the half mile to the shop I busied myself by sticking pins in an effigy of Pete Winkleman, and then once in and having joined the queue that was snaking its way around virtually all the way to the fresh fish I had plenty of time to write some hate mail as well. Having purchased Saturday’s tea I duly made my way out into the car park for the car only to find that I couldn’t find it. As I systematically walked up and down each of the rows I spotted others in a similar predicament endlessly walking up and down the aisle then stopping to try and get their bearings whilst the mother of all storm clouds positioned itself above us. Of course I did finally find it after wasting another half an hour and slipped in just before the rain really started. <br />
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Much later that same evening I was rudely awaken from my power nap with an overriding feeling of sickness and as I made my way (urgently) into the kitchen I was faced with the entire contents of the cats water bowl over the floor and a decidedly manic feline chasing the smallest brown mouse in the world. As I am being ill these two animals are crashing about all over the kitchen until the mouse gets itself behind the welsh dresser (I’ve no idea what he was doing there) So around midnight we were mopping the floor so that we could fight off the cat, and crawl on our hands and knees behind the furniture to attempt to capture the smallest mouse in the world. <br />
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If I was to say that I have had better Saturdays than this it wouldn’t be an understatement, but just to top it off when we eventually got to the mouse it had died. So after a brief but moving ceremony in the wee small hours I managed to get to bed, hoping that nothing else would happen<br />
<br />Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-55899903008927708502011-09-16T00:01:00.001+01:002011-09-16T00:13:55.643+01:00Deal or no DealNeedless to say as the economic situation worsens and many Brits start to go Greek by defaulting on their debts I am starting to receive an increasing number of calls from revenue protection to investigate the possibility of electricity theft. This takes me to some of the less salubrious districts in the city to look at new and inventive electrical meter bypass surgery that ‘in all probability’ will reduce the customer’s bills..... and life expectancy!<br />
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After one on Monday, where the client actually answered the door and then stated never being at the property since ‘his brother’ had tampered with the supply, but then showed it to me’ I have to conclude that AC/DC bipolar and electrical denial is no longer <em>static </em>but now <em>current </em>in the home counties! <br />
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Following on from this, I got a call a couple of days ago to one of the worst areas in MK, to replace a meter showing signs of tampering, or ‘live terminal spontaneous combustion’ as many drug dealers & cannabis entrepreneurs like to argue. Due to the notoriety of the postcode I asked one of my colleagues to ride shot gun which seemed immediately completely justified as we stepped out of the vans onto a couple of very large Oiks patrolling their manor with a shark dentured dog the size of a small horse. Unfortunately things didn’t get any better when we located the actual flat and the guy opposite came out of his door with all the concerns and subtleties of<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_C4f7JKVfQ"> Jack Nicholson in ‘the shining’</a> until we told him weren’t interested in <strong>hi</strong>s meter. <br />
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Obviously I am still here to tell the tale, but as the above relates, the lawlessness and contempt for everything in certain areas of the country in the current climate doesn’t bode well for the future <br />
<br />Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-46261823482098237802011-09-12T21:34:00.000+01:002011-09-15T00:14:33.223+01:00Brick MatchWhilst trawling the internet the other day I found a smashing site called <a href="http://www.yourbrickmatch.com/?gclid=CPfl5d3HmKsCFQJO4Qodx1MkxQ">brickmatch.com</a> where you can send a picture of your favourite brick and the company will match it (romantically or just for fun) with like minded bricks and even send you a sample in the post just to ensure suitability. I imagine if I had followed my dream and had become a hod carrier then I could spend a little too much time on this kind of site. Then, while on a roll I employed the wonderful blogger facility that is ‘next blog’ which is located at the top left of this page (just above the haybales) which took me to a plethora of fine sites (on the day) that seemed to have a Christian patchwork quilting type themes. All written by first person ‘Moms’ with 2.4 smiley kids and offering ’10 of my favourite things to do with butternut squash’ type recipes. Mmmmmmm nice!<br />
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Things then took a turn for the worst and something went horribly wrong and I stumbled across a very angry blog by a bloke who had limited access to his kids and a family guitar. In fact it was the YouTube type video of a beardy bloke on a stool at a music shop who was playing some classical piece at breakneck speed with lots of distortion but with no feeling that made me look a little harder. The moany bloke whose blog it was, then went into a tirade of verbal abuse about the guitarist complete lack of any passion and clinical uninterested delivery. Unfortunately, I have to say that I agreed 100% with this analogy and got me thinking of all the times that I have seen folks who seem to think learning an instrument / singing parrot fashion and bringing nothing to the table constitutes a love of music. (At this point all my friends are now pushing a large soapbox under my feet and nodding in unison with a slightly furrowed brow) I mean what’s the point? You also find that on things like the X Factor when you often hear ‘I think you made that song your own’ or ‘I felt every word’ because a nail technician from Huddersfield had managed to master a couple of lines of an Adele songs and forgotten to bring her asthmatic inhaler. Oh my God don’t get me started, but<strong><em> I</em></strong> want to hear <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeFgAJVMVeM&feature=related">Ben Folds Five</a> rape and pillage Raindrops keep falling on my head at Burt Bacharach’s birthday party, or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-BZIWSI5UQ">Elvis Costello</a> spitting venom whilst singing Tramp the dirt Down not some sort of karaoke Lighthouse Family!<br />
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Now look whats happened, they have had to put me in my special 'button at the back jacket' again <br />
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<br />Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-59394373911682573162011-09-03T18:04:00.017+01:002011-09-04T16:07:07.909+01:00Phil Gardner<div style="text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86ZRgHoOFqeL4PovuCckSbbGvUQ_gCHHM0rtGQi5tzmu0QUfkKRpBjlUhtM3GgAbfYvU-_S5RvrFp3Rk3OoiMH9VuEvEKMOw6Lla4II5onpLgcGxnzrffoLmjyjzOiaLiyiUkxG4WEMbc/s1600/caen+hill+locks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86ZRgHoOFqeL4PovuCckSbbGvUQ_gCHHM0rtGQi5tzmu0QUfkKRpBjlUhtM3GgAbfYvU-_S5RvrFp3Rk3OoiMH9VuEvEKMOw6Lla4II5onpLgcGxnzrffoLmjyjzOiaLiyiUkxG4WEMbc/s320/caen+hill+locks.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phil Gardner near the extensive locks at Bow</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/">Phil Gardner</a>, one of the country’s top bloggers, retinal screamers and cat pimps has recently slurred my good name by hacking into my NHS computer records and threatening to disclose ‘in the name of public interest’ that I have a <em><strong>broke back mounting</strong></em>. In simple terms, for folk of a non medical persuasion this means; a wibbly wobbly disc or unfettered coccyx. His poisonous diatribe email then goes on to state that he thinks that I am permanently on the sick, and not safe to be around tethered animals*<br />
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This like many of Mr Gardner’s other stories are pure works of fiction. For example a few years back he claimed that <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kntcqNjeRkk">8 out of 10 cats who expressed a preference would rather shower than take a bath</a>, and then more recently he stated that fish had eaten his feet and made outlandish claims to have written the internationally acclaimed Piglet Song.<br />
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I, for one am not standing for this (but not on medical grounds) and will be instructing my no win no fee lawyer within the next while<br />
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*poetic licence used, to enhance my point<br />
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Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-29892782891853956022011-09-03T13:53:00.003+01:002011-09-04T16:05:19.405+01:00Coulrophobia; The fear of clowns<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JTKfu-CszwrvJw3NOEDaIOZMoLwJVDt5n2oXmWsjGDKBBhxHF-ycoOLRx179oUEH2lg4bFs5KGSuHwZACu8hJQ1P7ERoSqZlGU46bGf24bXxDhCoJkMcd4i2F2jQEuaBP4YfKc0AwGp6/s1600/4734853203_3524249d66.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JTKfu-CszwrvJw3NOEDaIOZMoLwJVDt5n2oXmWsjGDKBBhxHF-ycoOLRx179oUEH2lg4bFs5KGSuHwZACu8hJQ1P7ERoSqZlGU46bGf24bXxDhCoJkMcd4i2F2jQEuaBP4YfKc0AwGp6/s320/4734853203_3524249d66.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We live in MK’s very first NO COLD CALLING zone and so now accept that we will never have people knocking on the door between October and about March or any other public holidays. I mention this because my wife earlier this year decided to prop up the <em>local</em> economy by employing a milkman after hearing his hard luck story of how he lives with a woman in a shoe, who has so many children that she doesn’t know what to do. I suppose it seems feasible enough, but since that time it has only ever been me, that is in when he calls for his money on Thursday afternoon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At Tesco’s you can of course pay for milk on a credit/ debit card until the cows come home but this guy wants hard currency and used notes and often seems a little miffed if it isn’t available or you want things like change, etc. If this wasn’t enough another deal was struck with a couple of old soaks who are starting again on the bottom rung of the window cleaning business who come and clean the upstairs windows about twice a month. I have no idea what kind of sob story they were peddling, but it was probably something like they ran away from the circus to become window cleaners because they turn up with two long ladders and soapy buckets balanced on some pram wheels every time and often have difficulty in climbing, due to their unfeasibly large boots or because they have their red noses stuck in cans of lager! Of course I have seen nothing of any diploma, insurance documents or referral letters from their previous employ or DNA to validate their claims that they are in fact direct descendants of George Formby, and so are just a little bit suspicious that there might be an alternative motive to their first floor window washing. It has crossed my mind that they might be working undercover for <a href="http://www.empirefurnishings.co.uk/">Paul Simons</a> gaining important information about soft furnishings and window furniture so that they can later fleece us blind, like venetians. </span></div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-74082907677695897202011-08-31T19:47:00.002+01:002011-08-31T19:57:53.171+01:00JC in WonderlandMy doctor has prescribed two Co-codamol tablets four times a day for the pain in my back. I took the first batch mid afternoon yesterday which after about an hour, certainly did dull the pain. Unfortunately shortly after that I was wrestled to the sofa by a fatigue so huge and overwhelming that I never even heard Jeremy Kyle mention the words “best friend” and “Uncomplicated sex” and drifted off into a deep and meaningful psychosis siesta. <br />
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The afternoon nap isn’t something that I have generally embraced yet, and feel that this kind of down time is pretty much wasted & inexcusable, unless you have just stepped off a return flight from New Zealand or have been involved in the recent 3 day riots and dirty protests against the existence of Jedward! <br />
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Anyway, during this drug induced sleep I realised that <strong><em>I </em></strong>had invented the wheel, <strong><em>but then</em></strong> affirmed that the world is in fact flat, <strong><em>so then</em></strong> cancelled the patent and put my money into shares of Esperanto! Which now makes me wonder if I will ever make another commercially astute decision again?<br />
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Truthfully though, I really have felt a little odd ever since I started these tablets but will have to carry on until an un- medicated exceptable back pain allows for ’normal service and driving to be resumed’ <br />
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Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085565498161721858.post-22236932995430112782011-08-29T16:42:00.005+01:002011-08-29T22:50:46.103+01:00O.M.G.Facts are generally simple, whilst a fax- machine is a bit heavier and more cumbersome. I found this out today when I attempted to lift the works fax machine to make way for the companies HHU (Hand Held Unit) for the start tomorrow of a 4 day stint at meter reading (again)<br />
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So just to recount the actual details, I was about to pick up the fax machine from work top height, when even prior to even getting hands on, a shooting pain starting from the bottom of my back went off like a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbcNZRoov2I&feature=related">Fenny Popper</a> . The upshot of this was a very nasty case of tourettes and a rather pronounced ‘follow through’ walking stance. As (awkwardly) as it now stands, I think the chances of any meter reading getting done tomorrow is about as likely as me getting jiggy with the Pope.<br />
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Needless to say I have had to forgo the banger racing extravagances for a more sedate hot tea and ibuprofen cocktail.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPK3o9fxI_Unc15WTbNuEzOKr_bln6kOu4MuM-Qs4fK2U02w99tn-Pto0dbAt0mMr5OZlDEnTx7C94HQadkRe9CkaAitNl3xxBCzOSGkj0eKZ7VF2VK46B8gp5OfwhfpSxUcMdrr8TsdMz/s1600/max+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPK3o9fxI_Unc15WTbNuEzOKr_bln6kOu4MuM-Qs4fK2U02w99tn-Pto0dbAt0mMr5OZlDEnTx7C94HQadkRe9CkaAitNl3xxBCzOSGkj0eKZ7VF2VK46B8gp5OfwhfpSxUcMdrr8TsdMz/s320/max+wall.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>Jonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808076835308616800noreply@blogger.com0