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I've never really gotten excited about the release of a game before, but I have to say fuck me sideways!!! I cannot wait for this!!!
If you want to see the mega high-res HD version, trek over to http://www.rockstargames.com and find it on there. It's so worth it!
Thursday is the new, well, Thursday. Thursday will always be Thursday. It's a good day. It's a bit like Friday but you have the pain of having to go to work feeling a bit crappy rather than sleeping it off on a comfy bed the next morning. Last night, I hit TGI Fridays in Charing Cross with perspective new house mates Sophia and Danni for a "getting to know you drink". I know Sophia pretty well already, but I needed to meet her friend Danni and the idea was for Sophia to come down for just one as she had stuff to do and then to head off leaving me and Danni to chat. Suffice to say, as usual, it didn't turn out that way.
The cocktails hit hard and we soon found ourselves on number four, then five, then six, and to be honest, I'm not sure where it stopped. I feel so sorry for anyone in there attempting to eat a meal while we were around as we caused a little bit of TGI flavoured mayhem. Not only were we possibly a little loud as we laughed and talked about everything and anything (and as always, the conversation quickly degraded to, well, filth) but after one or two too many cocktails we were all dancing and gyrating in ways that you shouldn't outside of a sweaty underground club. The long haired barmen asked me how I managed it as I was jigging along, sandwiched between the two of them. I have some video evidence of the 'quality' of the dancing, but I'll save that one for now.
At one point, as I was walking to the loo, I jumped down four or five stairs making this waiter glare at me, which in turn caused him to walk into another waiter and spill a tray of drinks everywhere. It was so damn funny but I skulked off as fast as I could, not wanting to take the blame. Sophia had planned to have just the one and catch a train just after 7pm, but when I looked at my watch it was about 9:30pm and a lot more than one had gone down, and despite her protests she kept drinking whatever was put in front of her. It's amazing how much alcohol opens you up though. I don't think I'd ever learnt (or told) that much information about two people quite so quickly. That's what these "getting to know you" nights are all about though I suppose! If our highly inappropriate banter, questionable dancing and
destructive presence (including the ritual burning of a once cherished photograph) in the bar didn't put a large bunch of people off
their family dinners, then I really don't know what will.
We ended up leaving around 11:30ish and staggered down the street towards the station, all arm-in-arm, and if I recall correctly, singing 90s cheesey songs. We parted ways there and I had to get a train to Tulse Hill as nothing was running home at that time. When I got there, nothing was running in the opposite direction either, so I had a little mile and a half jog home from the station. Fortunately I knew where I was going and didn't get lost like I have many times before in various parts of South London. All that going to the gym suddenly became of use and I made it home in under ten minutes. Not bad considering the amount of Black Russians I'd put away.
All-in-all, I don't think that I've laughed that much in a long long time, and all going to plan, things could be getting very manic, but very fun around 216a.
Yesterday I had the day off work to recover, and damn was it needed. You see, Tuesday night Rozamundo and I got the train of fun down to Brighton to see Faithless play at the Brighton Centre. I was a little apprehensive about the whole thing because I don't really know a lot of their stuff outside of the Reverence album and a few of their hits, so I had a feeling I'd be standing in the middle of a room of sweaty ravers being the only one not singing along. How wrong I was.
When they came out after the support act "Calvin" the place just erupted as they'd decided to kick things off with Insomnia, which of course everyone knew. That was all it took for me to roll up the sleeves on my just purchased "God is a DJ t-shirt" (that I'm going to change to say "Andy is a DJ") and dance like some crazed lunatic, arms a-waving and feet a-jumping. Raving that close to a bunch of sweaty people was suddenly fun, until some woman in stilettos jumped on my toe. That hurt!. They pulled out some great songs like Weapons Of Mass Destruction and God Is A DJ and ultimately finished with the ever classic Salva Mea. The woman who did Dido's usual songs was really good, but the crowd only seemed interested in the jumping around songs. We Come 1 was particularly good for getting the crowd together, so someone standing next to me was always half a second late in her "one" shout.
It was odd that over the course of the night, the same people kept trying to buy drugs off me (I blame the rolled up t-shirt and the sweat) especially one guy who I thought said was called Mike. But more about him later. Once all the gig was done, we trekked over to Walkabout for a swift pint before the last train was going to leave at 00:20; or so we thought. Not trusting our better nature I rang National Rail Enquiries and asked when the last train back to London was. "23:37" was the reply from the woman on the other end of the phone. "Shit", I said, looking at my watch. It had just gone 23:30. We legged it about 100 yards up the road until Roz had to stop to catch her breath. It must be early days at the gym still for her. As I dragged her along we were quickly running out of time and we pelted up the high street towards the station. Fortunately a taxi drove by which we managed to flag down and jump in. We got to the station, ploughed through the barriers and got on the train just as the doors were closing. Talk about cutting it close. Spending the night in Brighton would have been no fun at all.
We walked down the train a bit looking for a seat and found one to plonk ourselves down on, and who should be sitting opposite us, but Mike; though apparently his name was Lee, not Mike. God knows how I'd mixed that up! Anyway, we got talking to him, his mate and his wife and their daughter (who didn't actually say a single thing) and was having a cracking laugh with them. Then, some other guy came walking down the train asking if people had weed that they'd swap for pills. Typical that Mike had been hunting all night for them without success and then finds some on the train ride home. Anyway, they did a little swap and the other guy (whose name escapes me) rebelliously sparked up a joint on the train and passed it round. How naughty!
That aside, we finally arrived back at Blackfriars about 00:30 and after 15 minutes of walking we found another taxi and got back to mine about 1:00ish. Not wanting to hit the hey quite yet, we watched a few episodes of Peep Show and a couple of DVDs before finally getting to sleep about 5:00am. This is why I booked the day off.
I'd planned to spend yesterday tidying the flat for viewing by potential new housemates on Monday (more about that at a later date) but I was far too tired so vegged out with Roz all day either watching films on the sofa or passed out asleep. Before I knew it, the day had gone, but not before I cooked us some damn fine fajitas (if I do say so myself). All-in-all, it was a pretty awesome day and a half!
I've added a couple of videos from the gig so you can see what you missed out on. The sound quality isn't amazing as it's off my camera phone, but you get the idea. Watch out for Roz throwing some questionable shapes in the Salva Mea video.
Insomnia
Salva Mea
A man suffering from hallucinations set fire to his flat to smoke out "the Ninjas" hiding under his bed, Leicester Crown Court heard.
Stanley Turner suffered the temporary delusional illness when trying to wean himself off alcohol. The fire caused almost £17,000 damage to the flat where he lived and the one below, in High Street, Oakham.
Mark Watson, prosecuting, said at 6am, on March 27, this year, the neighbour in the flat below heard banging and then saw the defendant outside. The 45-year-old told her there was a small fire and kept insisting he could see a woman in the hallway, when no-one was there. The fire service arrived to find the bedroom on fire. Turner told a fire officer he had also set alight a toilet roll in the flat to "smoke out Ninjas from under his bed". He was taken to Leicester Royal Infirmary and was an in-patient for four days. When interviewed on March 31, he told officers he had been tormented by hallucinations of people in his flat and started the blaze to get rid of them. He claimed to have drunk four cans of cider beforehand. A binge drinker, he gave up spirits to drink wine and then changed to cider. "Temporary psychosis was induced by the alcohol and the manner in which he'd changed his tipple," said Tamia Tago, defending.
Turner, who admitted arson, received a 52-week jail sentence, suspended for two years, and a supervision order, which will include assistance with his drink problem.
Though some people would call it a housemate, I prefer the term 'live-in friend'. Unfortunately, at the end of April (the 24th to be exact), Maya and Jeanne are moving back to France, so for the third time in a year, I'm housemate hunting. It's such a palaver to do and I really can't be arsed with the whole screening process again, but I obviuosly have to as I can't afford the whole £1040pcm rent on my own. Well, not if I want to do anything else each month anyway. So, if anybody is looking, or knows someone else (or, ideally, a couple) who are looking for a really large room in Herne Hill, or just the South London area then pass me their details or get them to email me, otherwise it's a trip back to my old friend Mr Gumtree! *sighs*
Apart from Saturday night's anarchy that involved far too much Staropramman, Budvar Dark and a late night so late that I swear I missed a week of sleep, this weekend has involved one thing - PlayStation 3! It was always going to be that way really. Firstly, I have to say GOD DAMMIT!!! I knew that I should have gone to the midnight launch of it at the Virgin Megastore and queued with the dozens of other avid gamers there after my radio show on Thursday, but no; I'd reserved one so casually pottered along to HMV on Friday morning to collect it. For those of you that don't already know, there's a reason I should have gone along to the Virgin Store launch on Oxford Street. The first 100 people (which according to reports I would have been in if I'd got there at 10:30pm) all received a 46" Sony plasma screen worth £2,500. That would have been worth queueing for. Hell, the guy who was in there first, some 17 year old lad, had only been there 36 hours. I would have waited 36 hours if I'd known there were going to be 46" plasma screens for the wait.
Anyway, that aside, I have my lovely PS3 and this weekend I spent pretty much the whole time playing it. I went for Resistance: Fall of Man, MotorSport and Virtua Fighter 5 (though I picked that up by accident as I actually wanted Tekken 5, oh well) in my bundle as well as extra controllers and a HDMI cable and a couple of BluRay DVDs. Shame that my 1981 TV doesn't handle BluRay so drops it down to a black and white picture. I guess I'm going to have to wait until I get my new TV in order to watch them. I've found the one that I want to get now, a 42" LG plasma for just £799. It's a really good price for the quality of the screen, but regardless I'm going down to Dixons later to have a look at their collection. Not that I can afford it this month after spending over half a grand on a PS3. Next month though, next month I can afford it, so I guess I'll have to put up with a smaller screen for now.
Game of choice this weekend was Resistance: Fall of Man, a first person shooter very much like Half Life 2, only the graphics are significantly better - yes, better. It looks unbelievably good on my 21" CRT, so it's going to be mind-blowing on a 42" plasma, especially once I get a surround sound home entertainment system to go with it too. It just has to be done, if only to entice new housemates (but I'll explain about that one later). Most of my weekend was therefore spent shooting the crap out of countless Chimera alien baddies. If I wasn't ripping through them with Colt M5A2 machine gun fire, I was sniping headshots from miles away, shotgunning groups from point blank range and setting everything on fire with exploding smoke fire grenades. And I'll tell you what, it was bloody fantastic. Some parts really made me jump when something came crashing through a wall next to me and some bits are genuinely quite scary, like when twelve massive aliens called "Angels" rise out of the ground and gang up on you, though they all fell to my trigger finger eventually. Right now though, I feel tired, my eyes ache and my thumbs are a little sore, but after the gym tonight I'm bound to be back out there, saving the world one bad guy at a time!
You see that little slip right there? You know what that is? No? Well I'll tell you. It's a HMV reservation ticket. "And what have you reserved?" I hear you crying. Well I'll tell you that too. IT'S ONLY A BLOODY PS3!! Yup, tomorrow at the very early hour of 7:30am I'm picking up my brand new sparkley little PS3 bundle pack. The console, two controllers and three games for... six hundred damn quid. Sure it's a stupid amount to pay for a games machine, but you know what, I don't care; I can afford it. I'm off to the gym now so can't really talk about it right at this moment, but I'm sure to excitedly write about it tomorrow. One thing is though that I have a small 21" CRT TV from 1981 so I'm going to have to get a better one now to optimise it. I've got my eye on a 42" LG plasma true HDTV for £1200, but I think I'll have to wait until next month until getting that.
I stand by the fact that anyone can learn the fine art that is poker, especially when you're playing a nice, simple, three card brag; and it's because of this that I'm having a poker night in four weeks time. It should be a laugh I reckon. Ten of my nearest and dearest buddies, all paying a £10 entry fee, winner takes all. Don't take it personally if you weren't invited but I have limited space around the big table. I do have a "backup" list of people though, so if I have any dropouts then you may still be invited yet. Last night, preparation for the night began in the fact that I taught Roz how to play, and she'll be the first to admit how easy it is. In fact, she even beat me, a fairly seasoned player, but I wasn't really playing like I would when there's real money on the table; at least that's what I tell myself to help me sleep at night. It's amazing how you can waste a whole night just playing poker and watching silly films, the highlight of last night's being This Is Spinal Tap. "How much more black could it be? None. None more black", "...but this one goes to eleven", "shit sandwich" and so many other great lines make that film. Legendary!
Anyway, I expect that at some point during the night, the poker will stop and we'll end up playing Circle of Death, Cheat, Shithead or one of a list of other stupid card games that people play when minorly (or majorly) intoxicated. Oh well, it's all good fun and I'm sure that I'll report on it closer to the day. As for now, I've got other things to write about, larger fishes to fry and bigger beans to spill; just you wait and see.
Well it was a day that started like any other, but little did I know that my trip to work was going to be anything other than typical. Whilst standing on the ever delayed 8:12am train, some dopey woman in a stupid hat decided that it would be a good idea to spill her hot tea on my trousers, soaking one leg and causing a short seering blast of pain. "Great!" I thought as the woman just stood there, not even apologising. I was going to kick up a fuss about it, but it all happened just as we were pulling into Victoria Street Station so the doors open and she scurried off to safety. Karma will get her later I'm sure. She'll probably fall through a grate in the pavement, shattering both of her legs. The world would be balanced again then.
As I damply walked into Next I pottered down to the menswear section to get some new jeans and something unusual caught my eye. Some green combats. I haven't worn combats in the last ten years at least, so I decided to try some on as well as some other jeans and some cords to see how they looked and fit. The combats and the jeans were great, but the cords just looked and felt stupid, so I bought the jeans and combats and now are wearing the latter - I bet that's made your day knowing that huh! For anyone really interested, I'm also sporting a yellow 'Blondie' t-shirt (vintage collection no less), some grey Converse All-Stars, black socks and some sky blue boxers. Annnnnyway...
It didn't end there though, oh no. As I approached the office I saw something from afar that made me get my camera phone out of my pocket in anticipation. There were a couple of policecars parked on the road outside the front and police tape bordering off the entrance to the building. As I got outside I was confronted with what can only be described as a POLITICAL SCANDEL. The words "Bad Joke Brown" had been painted on the doors and the pavement, red paint was splashed everywhere and there were posters with Gordon Brown's face on all over the doors. This is what we get for working in the same building as Labour; it's a constant health risk. 
The funniest thing to note in the photo though is the writing on the pavement. I don't know about you, but if I was going to paint foot high words of hate in bright red paint on a pavement, I'd make sure that I spelt the name of the perpetrator correctly. Terrorists just aren't what they used to be.
I'd add the full size pictures on here, but the graffiti has all been covered up now which means as far as I'm aware my pictures are exclusives and I'm trying to get money out of the BBC for them. Nice!
Whilst doing my background research on the Towers Of London I came across the video and it's genius, damn genius. He so had it coming.
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