jeez zandwidges and ravvle brizes

As this is a pure birding blog and only focusses on cutting edge birding ID features, the latest trip reports from around the globe, and how Man U are a set of bogus, glorified prima donnas then tonight I'm going to talk about cheese sandwiches.  And raffles. 

chapter 1.


A few days ago I awent (proper word) into a sandwich bar/shoppe.  I asked for a fairly standard type, the type which was clearly displayed on the 'menu'.  I can't think of a better word. 
"Cheese and Onion please gorgeous" said I, as I'm sexist.
"Great choice y'all, coming right up man" said she, as she was American.
Do you know what I was served?  Go on, guess.
Cheshire.

Fucking cheshire.

Now don't get me wrong, Cheshire is a fantastic cheese and is one of my favourites.  But when I order cheese 'n' onion from a sandwich maker selling their wares, then it's just not right.  Cheddar, mature cheddar, Red Leicester, Double Glossoustershire, yeah, I'm on it, it's all fine with onion.  But the creamy saltiness of Cheshire?  Good lord above, with an English white onion?  Maybe a red at a push.  Or even a Spanish white.

"What the fuck is this?" said I, as I swear a lot.
"Cheese and Onion.  It's what you asked for man" said she, being American.
"Fucking Cheshire?" said I, as I still swear a lot.
"Cheshire?" said she, and unbuttoned her blouse.
"Everyone knows that Cheshire doesn't go with onion, especially an English white onion in mid July and I'm not sure where the fuck this story is heading as I am, once again, paraletic".
"Which cheese were you expecting Sir, missing you already" said she as she lobbed her tits out.
"Well, pretty standard Cheddar to be honest.  Nice fucking tits, though" said I, as I'm sexist and swear a lot.
"Are you looking for compensation, y'all?" said she as she's still American.
"Any sort of recompense is futile when it comes to cheese 'n' onion and the only ending to this story that I can think of is probably that I end up punching you clean in the teeth which I neither practice nor condone" said I, as I no longer swear as much.
"Have a nice day then Sir" said she and put her bangers away much to my lament.  Lament?  Is that in the right context?  Jimmy, check that one out for me.
At this point I quite predictably punched her square in the teeth, sending shards in all directions and simply walked out of the sandwich parlour.
Cheshire?  With Onion?  I tell ya.  It's like putting Stilton with dog wee wee.

chapter 2.


Went to the Jesus Christian Movement "Summer Fair" t'other day.  Bouncy castles were advertised.  There were no bouncy castles.
"Hey, Christian.  Where the fuck are all the bouncy castles?" said I, as I swear a lot....

.......Let's stop that right there.
There really were NO bouncy castles.  Jesus.  All there that was there was three raffles, a cake stall, bric-a-brac, a white elephant stall and a booth that offered 'free money and sex'.  A choir audition then. 

I had a go on the raffle for the children.  One quid for five attempts or two quid for ten attempts.  I went for the two quid option as it was clearly the better value for money.  The girls had two winners!  Sorted.  Hopefully a big fuck off teddy they can share plus a bottle of JD that I could 'buy' off them.  Even a 75cl would do.  All prizes were encased in those decorative bags you put your neices present in when you have NO wrapping paper.  That's definitely NO (NONE) wrapping paper.  Intrugued, eldest took out the first prize.... A teddy!  A small teddy to be fair, but at least they could share it.  Now for the bottle of Jack.....

Youngest unwrapped this one....

This is exciting....


Olivia pulled out this:

Surely the worst prize ever on any raffle ever?  To make the most of it, I ate it all in one go on the way home.  Thanks for that, the Christian community.  Seriously, that really was the prize!  Excellent.



ALL vicars fuck about with the choirboys.  Every single one of them.


There, I said it.




..........................

Tennis, Football and some Music...

Andy Murray scraped through I see.  Every year he's the great British hope until he loses when he returns to being a Scottish cunt.  Wimbledon has been rained off every day due to the wettest summer for 250 years.  In Murray's Scotland it's been the wettest on record since last summer. 
I'll tell you right now, I don't want him to win.  Why should I?  He's Scottish.  All you Scots out there will back me on this one.  Let's face it the Scots never want England or an Englishman to win anything.  Why should they?  I can't blame them, they're Scottish.  Ask a Scotsman if he's British and you best expect a twist on the cheek from a pint of McEwan's Export.  But only if it's empty.  The Scots are apparently mortified with the plan for supermarkets to charge for carrier bags.  With this coming straight after an increase on the price of glue it really has been a double whammy for the Glaswegian population.

The Scots don't want us to win.  I totally agree.  Same with the Welsh.  I'm fine with it.  I'm English not British.  They're Welsh not British.  As for the six counties across the Irish Sea I'm not touching that one with a forty foot pole.  Made out of potato.

Is it me or is Murray's celebration of clenched fist whilst staring at his box a little bit annoying?  His box in the crowd obviously.  Saying that, I suppose it would be a GREAT celebration if he clenched his fist then bent double and stared at his box following every victorious point. 

The Scots were celebrating at Euro 2012 when England got beat by Italy on the usual pens.  To be honest, thank fuck we never made it to the final against a Spanish side that don't even need a striker on the pitch to beat you.  I didn't like their set up at first, six in midfield, even though Barca had played like that a few times last season.  The difference is, Barca have a certain person named Lionel Messi.  Still, they did it again and fair play to them.  Great side.  I think, nay know, they could put another eleven on the pitch that would still beat us. Those not included (on the bench or injured) in Sunday's final and would feature in my fantasy Spanish second XI to beat England includes Valdes between the sticks, Puyol and Albiol at the back, Juan Mata, Pedro as attacking midfielders, with Torres and a certain David Villa up front.  Jesus Holy Mary mother of God, the THIRD string would have Pepe Reina with the gloves and Llorente up top.  I sort of wish Messi was Spanish just to see it.

I watched the final on Monday afternoon and, amazingly, hadn't heard the result which was a result in itself.  Why hadn't I seen it on Sunday you cry?  Because I was....

......somewhere near Manchester.........watching.....


........the one and only....

You heard it right, The fucking Stone Roses!
Get in.


They came on to Adored.  They had to.  They just had to.  Fucking get in!  I saw more than a few blokes wipe a tear away.  One big bloke was just stood there with his hands on his head and his mouth open, aghast, with tears streaming down his face when they did This is the One.  I never thought I'd see them together again.  WE, collectively, never thought we'd see them together again.  Let's have it!  Browny's pretty shite live but that's part of it.  Reni backs him all the time to stop him going flat.  But they are the greatest band.  The greatest.  They were fucking brilliant.  Apart from Mani swapping to a yellow and green bass with the words Mani United written on the back.  The Mancs bastard.  And they never did either of my favourite tracks, Tears and Daybreak, the fucking bastards.  I was sure they'd go straight into Daybreak when they were doing Ten Storey Love Song.  They didn't.  Then Squire went off stage.  I was sure he was swapping to acoustic, surely to do Tears?  They didn't.  Ollie should've been with us.  Ollie WOULD'VE been with us if he wasn't upside-down 12,000 miles away.  (Me Darren and Fraz by the way Ol)

Tears.  Studio version.  Have a bit of that.

Bejaysus it was muddy.  And getting out was a nightmare.  I rang a radio-controlled taxi to get back to the digs.  When I got in there was a driver in the driver's seat.  False advertising surely?  And evaporated milk.  I bought some evaporated milk only to find the tin still full.  While I'm on a rant, can someone please answer me this;  What is the point of Soft Porn?  People who like porn don't like it.  And people who don't like porn don't like it.  So what's the point?

No point whatsoever.

At all.