Nick's Blog

Lilith Silver: The Original Lesbian Vampire Killer

2009-04-01T11:14:00.000-07:00

The hot new Brit-flick Lesbian Vampire Killers is currently causing a stir at the box office, and highlighting the success of British new-wave horror-comedy cinema. With it's self explanatory title and cast of young comedians and hot models it looks set to cement the flourishing careers of Horne and Cordon.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBqWOOTQFNg&hl=en&fs=1]

But the tradition of Sapphic lovelies kicking ass has one important fore-runner. Actress Eileen Daly who played fatal beauty Lilith Silver in the 1998 movie Razor Blade Smile.

Best of all she spent most of the movie clad in skin-tight P.V.C brandishing a variety of weapons, not in the least her fangs and cheekbones that could slit a throat. Why not take a look?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aa2o6TS-MPc&hl=en&fs=1]

Since then her career, not just as an actress, but lead singer of The Courtesans, has skyrocketed. She is now part owner of Salvation Films, who specialize in macabre horror films that have reached international acclaim.

You played the original Lesbian Vampire Killer in Razor Blade Smile. Do you have any advice for these young upstart nippers?

Yes - don't give up your day job

Meow. Who is your dream victim?

Just about anyone from the New Labour party

Do you think you made a better vampire than Sadie Frost?

It goes without saying!!!

Over ten years on, does your character, Lillith, still have a huge following?

It's growing by the day. And what's more I'm doing another Lilith job in a movie set in New York this autumn called "Little Miss Macabre"

Your new film, Braincell, is a violent horror set, without any irony, in Liverpool. Do you get to speak in a Scouse accent? Wear a track suit or hoop earrings?

'fraid not, actually. I play a nasty,dominant sadistic nurse-oh and sexy...

Tell us a little bit more about it?

Its about a university where a wave of violence is spreading due to the strange experiment of Dr Joseph Cornwall i.e. Joe Zaso. His estranged niece Hannah arrives from the States to live with her uncle and soon after uncovers a horrifying mystery. I had a great cast to work with, and a great part. I played Nurse Audra, who has a very horny love scene with Mat Berry ( IT Crowd) who played Neil Balsam. Dane Brooks plays a male nurse and Leon Lopez (Brookside) is Fred the zombie from hell! Everyone was so nice to work with on set, no egos (well one or two but they not getting a mention!). I will tell you when its out, and I can't wait to see what you think, if you like lots of blood in your films then you'll love this.

Here is some footage of the filming of Bloodbath.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qifGNfidlPU&hl=en&fs=1]

Please tell me you still have the black P.V.C outfits...?

No gave them away, and my teeth.

Noooo!!!

And finally tell us a little bit about your band?

The Courtesans are a gypsy glam rock & roll band. They specialize in dark tales in waltz-time, sleazy tales set to deadly swing-beats and swampy arabesque stomps. Their set travels from Louisiana to Peckham via Berlin and they invite you to join them on their wild and entertaining voyage!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8d0jLD8c7A&hl=en&fs=1]

Lesbian Vampire Killers is at the cinemas now, so go check it out. www.vue.com

Razor Blade Smile is available in HMV, www.amazon.com or here at www.salvation-films.com

And you can follow the Courtisans via their myspace address: www.myspace.com/thecourtesans

Eileen's new film, Braincell is still in production and is due to be released in October. We will be following the progress of Little Miss Macabre with bated breath.

Copyright Nick Gilmartin 2009

Introducing Sara Benincasa

2009-03-24T04:14:00.000-07:00

One of New York's rising stars on the comedy circuit is Jersey Girl, Sara Benincasa. Recently awarded MTV Choose or Lose citizen report for New York, Sara continues to make waves in the state and national media of the states.

She hosts her own show called the 'family hour' at comedy venue Comix. The topic is naturally families, but we don't recommend bringing the kids or your own mom and dad. Good heavens, no.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P32bk7gkXXg&hl=en&fs=1]

During the run up to the 2008 elections she perfected her parody of Sarah Palin down to a freaky likeness. Some people could not tell the difference, which tells you more about credibility of Palin than Benincasa.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEW12XLUM7A&hl=en&fs=1]

Not only that she has also written story ideas for the Onion.com, sex blogs for Nerve.com, and best of all, she interviews people in her bathtub. Maybe she was pushed for time or something?

Evidently behind the flame red hair and big puppy eyes she is ferociously intelligent. But life has not been all plain sailing for Sara, she spent years suffering agrophobia and panic attacks. But, hey, it gave her more material to write about. I sat through her bowls of pee routine cringing behind my fingers.

This link contains one potty-mouthed lady talking about peeing into bowls. Don't say I didn't warn you,you candy assed Mary Whitehouse suck-up.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktYPY4Ib2XQ&hl=en&fs=1]

So we Myspace'd her and we put a few questions to her.

Did you see the big riot outside the studio for America's Top Model? Were you there foraging for the strappy sandal to match the one you just found containing a dismembered foot?

I actually started the big riot at the ANTM tryouts. I'm into starting riots. And humanitarian movements. Sometimes these motivations come into conflict with one another. I'm a complicated person. And I actually have several dismembered feet.

Did you pull out the toe nails and keep them as a false pair?

I prefer to eat them, for the protein. And the laughs!

Yummy. You interview people in the bath. Do you ever see any farty bubbles going on down there?

I have never encountered fart bubbles whilst interviewing anyone in the bath. People have thus far been great about holding that in.

We all want to know, when are you going to do a few UK dates? Because if you think America is a fucked-up country...

I would love to come to the UK and do some comedy. But this might be an expensive endeavor, unless someone were providing me with a bed and possibly food. You see, your country is currently more financially successful than mine, and the exchange rate is in your favor. Therefore, I am but a poor cousin from the colonies, who will resort to telling jokes for scraps of bread.

Is the current recession providing a wealth of new material?

Yes. See bit above about being a poor cousin from the colonies. Granted, it's not great comedy. It's not even particularly funny. It's just true. Sigh.

You say you crave the approval of Lesbians. As a guy I can totally associate with that. What is the best way to get the girlfriend to approve a threesome?

Hmm. Not having been in any threesomes myself, I am going to base this on what I've heard while doing my radio show (it's a sex chat show on satellite radio in America and Canada; if you people had only held onto your most fabulous colonies like you were supposed to, you might have the satellite radio as well.)

I suppose the best way to get her to approve a threesome would be to ask her if she genuinely has any interest in doing it. If not, you really shouldn't press the matter, as it'll turn into a fucking shitstorm and she'll end up leaving you for a more enlightened fellow, and also she'll tell her dad that you are a perv and then he will hate you. Let her know that you're okay with just watching, not participating (making it a bit less of a threesome, I suppose, but at least you get to watch!) And let her pick the girl, at a bar or pub or whatever you people call it.

And be open to the fact that she might want another guy in the mix. And she might want to ask you and the guy to make out. Things could get really gay up in there, is all I'm saying.

Spoken like a true agony aunt.

To see more of Sara Benincasa follow this link:

www.sarabenincasa.com

www.sarabenincasa.wordpress.com

Photos by Anya Garrett. www.anyagarrett.com

Susan Tsvangairai

2009-03-24T04:13:00.000-07:00

[caption id="attachment_358" align="aligncenter" width="166" caption="Susan Tsvangirai"][/caption]

As many of you will know I have been monitoring the Zimbabwe situation for more than a year. The story there has had more twists and turns than any African tragedy.

Only this week the ongoing disaster took another twist.

Susan Tsvangirai, wife of the new Prime Minister, Morgan Tsvangirai, has been killed in a road traffic accident 50 miles south of the capital Harare. The Prime Minister, also in the vehicle, received only cuts and bruises.

The Movement for Democratic Change has launched an independent investigation into the cause of the crash. However the British foreign Ministry has issued a statement, backed up by Morgan Tsvangirai, insisting that the crash was an "accident". The driver of the truck that hit the car said in his statement that he had fallen asleep at the wheel.

Morgan and Susan Tsvangairai were travelling in part of an aid convoy of three vehicles when they were sideswiped by an on-coming vehicle. However assassinations by car crash are not uncommon in Zimbabwe. In recent years the employment minister, the defense minister and a regional governor have all had fatal accidents.

Of course traffic accidents can and do frequently happen all over Africa. Roads in Zimbabwe are in atrocious condition and cars can go years without maintainance checks.

Tom McDonald, the United States Ambassador to Zimbabwe from 1997 to 2001, said, "I'm skeptical about any motor vehicle accident in Zimbabwe involving an opposition figure... President Mugabe has a history of strange car accidents when someone lo and behold dies - it's sort of his M.O. of how they get rid of people they don't like... So, when I hear that Tsvangirai was in an accident, it gives me pause." (Courtesy of Wikipedia)

"This not a genuine accident," MDC spokesman Sibanengi Dube Dube said of the crash.

"This is a perfect organised hit which was designed to eliminate the president of the MDC."

The Tsvangirais were heading to their rural home for a Saturday rally when the crash happened on Friday afternoon.

From his hospital bed in Harare afterwards, he told one of his aides that a large truck driving on the other side of the road had come towards his Land Cruiser, the middle vehicle in a three-car convoy.

"What he told me was that the truck went for his car," said Dennis Murira, director of public affairs in the Prime Minister's office. "That's how he put it."

Mrs Tsvangairai was pronounced dead in Beatrice Hospital and funeral arrangements have yet to be announced.

No doubt speculation as to the cause of the accident will cause controversy for years to come.

For more information on the Movement for Democratic Change please follow this link:

http://www.zimbabweprimeminister.org/

Pork Cassidy

2009-03-24T04:12:00.002-07:00

[caption id="attachment_352" align="aligncenter" width="460" caption="Pork Cassidy serves with oven baked potatoes and veg."][/caption]

This one is pretty easy but also very tasty.

You need the following:

Two pork fillets

Piri-piri seasoning (two tablespoon)

Paprika (two tablespoon)

Barbeque sauce (Newman's own in my current favourite)

Take one small teaspoon of olive oil and pour it on to a foil baking tray.

Place the pork fillets on to the tray and sprinkle a table spoon of piri piri seasoning all over the pork, making sure you cover the edges. Then do the same with the paprika. Take a blunt knife and spread it thinly over the pork then turn the fillets over and repeat the process.

Next pour barbeque sauce over the pork and use the knife to spread it evenly. Carefully turn the pork over and repeat the process.

Finally heat an oven at 180 degrees celcius and cook the pork for arroximately 25 minutes, checking regularly.

You can serve it with potatoes or rice and vegetables.

I named it after Newman's most famous character, Butch Cassidy. And why not? Enjoy!

Truely unfortunate names

2009-03-24T04:12:00.001-07:00

I was fairly lucky when my parents named me. I come from a fairly noble old Irish family with a sensible name. Heck, we even have our own crest, a cross with a sun and moon on the arms. We have a motto 'God is my help' (though I sometimes think 'God help us' would have been more appropriate). They picked a good first name, Nicholas, which could be shortened to the well-hard sounding Nick.

So spare a thought for the poor souls with less than salubrious names. Such unsung heroes and heroines as:

Barry Cade

Carry Oakey

Jenny Taylor (keep saying it fast and you will get the joke)

Jo King

Mr Titman (I actually served this guy once. I didn't meet his wife, which was a shame).

Tim O' Tahy

Susan Melley (She went to school with my mum)

Sue Mee (And she was a solicitor to boot)

And if you think that's bad spare a thought for her brother Roger...

Portuguese Water Dogs and other new friends

2009-03-24T04:11:00.001-07:00

Most of us have owned a dog at some point in their lives right? Or we certainly know somebody who has. What's the attraction?

Well they are an incredible amount of fun, hugely entertaining and distracting, and above all, they are very loving. Art work has been dedicated to them since the days of cave paintings. Kings and queens have dedicated their own breeds.

And what was President Obama's present to his daughters for their support? Yep, a new puppy. See? even the first family of America loves dogs. They are having a Portuguese Water Dog according to reliable reports. Apparently on the advice of Senator Ted Kennedy who owns two of them, called Sunny and Splash. The PWD is a fairly big dog with a woolly type of fur that is hypoallergenic. So even those with dog allergies can have one. Hurray!

[caption id="attachment_336" align="aligncenter" width="275" caption="A Portuguese Water Dog living up to it's name"][/caption]

From what I have read on wikipedia.org these dogs sound a lot of fun. They don't shed fur and they are very active and playful. Highly intelligent and make great companions. Aww, I want one. They are used to living on fishing boats and they are excellent swimmers. They were originally trained to rescue humans from the sea. It doesn't take much effort to imagine this huge thing playing in the white house pool with President Obama's daughters.

[caption id="attachment_337" align="aligncenter" width="459" caption="Cleared for take off"][/caption]

Dogs are big business. The Kennel club of Great Britain has dedicated more than three million pounds to animal based charities.

Ever since Lassie and Rin Tin Tin dogs have had a huge presence in films. The Beethoven franchise ran no less than five sequels featuring a hugely lovable St Bernard.

Most recently Marley and Me has been making huge paw prints in the box office. Based on the memoirs of long suffering dog-owner John Grogan, the film relates his family life with an over-active Golden Retriever. Normally a placid breed, this particular dog ran around like it had just eaten a case of Red Bull.

Grogan's novel had me laughing for every chapter but the last one, and then it reduced me to tears. I doubt I was the only one.

[caption id="attachment_339" align="aligncenter" width="460" caption="Cocker Spaniels are my favourite breed"][/caption]

My own canine experience was a Blue Roan Cocker Spaniel who was, by turn, neurotic, excited, immature, brave and enormously loving. I still miss him.

Seafood Paella

2009-03-24T04:10:00.000-07:00

Today we have something a bit more adventurous for you lot to work your magic on. Firstly you will need a big-ass pan like the one in the picture. Failing that a large frying pan will do.

Then you will need:

Rissotto Rice

Small tin of peas

One red pepper

Three large mushrooms

Two lemons

175ml of white wine (or one medium glass)

175 ml of Chicken stock

Mixed herbs and Tumeric

Mixed seafood (I recommend pre-cooked) such as Crawfish, Prawns, Clams, Mussels, Scollops, Squid, or even Crab.

Take a large hot pan and add a tablespoonful of oil. Once this is heated add the peppers, peas and mushrooms and fry gently for a minute. Then add the seafood and stir for two more minutes. Add a sprinkle of mixed herbs and half a teaspoonful of Tumeric. Cut one lemon in two and juice it, and add the lemon juice. Then add the chicken stock and white wine and leave to simmer.

Meanwhile take a pan of boiling water and add a cup of rice and a teaspoon of tumeric. Once the rice is soft enough drain the rice and water through a sieve or colander. Then run the rice under a tap for a minute to wash off any excess tumeric. Add the rice to the pan with the seafood and stir well.

While it is simmering heat an oven at 180 degrees celcius. Once the oven is hot cover the pan in tin foil and place in the oven. Note: If you have cooked all this in a frying pan or wok just transfer it to a baking tin.

Once it looks and tastes cooked (note the mussels should be open, if not leave a little longer), cut the remaining lemon into quarters and place around the edges of the pan.

Allow to bake for twenty or thirty minutes and serve.

Enjoy

Ronnie Biggs: at least he wore a mask

2009-03-24T04:09:00.002-07:00

It has recently been revealed that the convicted robber, Ronald Biggs may be released soon due to health grounds.

Privately I am satisfied that the Home Secretary has made this decision as Biggs is now pushing eighty and far too frail to carry on his sentance.

I don't think, in the current climate of bare-faced financial irregularities, that it is fair to keep a dying man in prison while so many banks have themselves turned robbers.

In many ways Ron's life on the run has proved a sentance on it's own. His life has been stressful and traumatic. It separated him from his family, it left him unable to attend the funeral of his son in the seventies. It left him financially destitute and unable to work under Brazilian law. It deprived him of healthcare and it left him prey to kidnappers and a clique of detectives and journalists who swore to bring him down.

Yet it is hard not to marvel at the man's fortitute against such adversity. Surprising, in hindsite, that his friend, Bruce Reynolds, did not give him a more active role in the robbery.

But Ron's days are nearly over and I sincerely hope for all concerned that he does get his dying wish, to have a drink in a British pub as a free man before he dies. I don't care what anybody says he is a national treasure.

To read his fantastic autobiography check out Ronald Biggs - Odd Man Out ISBN 0330-33768-8

[polldaddy poll=1380558]

Jack Vettriano

2009-03-24T04:09:00.001-07:00

[caption id="attachment_306" align="aligncenter" width="430" caption="What were they watching?"][/caption]

Maybe I am just getting older but I have recently developed a bit of an interest in the art world, particularly portraits. I have no time for high art, such as dissected cows and silly lights flickering on and off.

"It's art!" Says floppy haired artist.

"Nay lad, it's a dodgy plug." Says I. Honestly where do you get them from? Then you have Tracey Emin with her unmade bed as an art show.

"Why is it art?" She was asked at the opening of her new gallery.

"Cos I say it is." She huffed. Well hark at lady muck.

Thank heavens that a fellow from Fife in Scotland has taught himself to paint and set out to save us all from the machinations of the Tate 'set'.

[caption id="attachment_314" align="aligncenter" width="433" caption="Jack Vettriano"][/caption]

Jack Vettriano, born Jack Foley, taught himself to paint relatively late in life. He never attended an art college or gained any major artistic diploma. But the images and characters he has depicted has made our nation take him to it's heart. He was recently named as Britain's favourite artist, much to the chargrin of the London based art world. For that reason alone the guy is a hero.

[caption id="attachment_307" align="aligncenter" width="433" caption="Does anything feel better than dancing with a beautiful woman?"][/caption]

He changed his name to Vettriano in honour of his Italian Grandfather. I think he wanted to sound a bit more exotic or he wanted to appeal to the art world. Either way, it worked.

[caption id="attachment_308" align="aligncenter" width="433" caption="Jack captures well the older male's idea of feminine beauty."][/caption]

Jack's art is very retro and is mostly set in the fifties and sixties. Women are wondrously glamorous, usually dressed in stockings and cocktail dresses. Men are smart and well dressed, and the cars are very sporty. This is why his art appeals strongly across the sex divide. It also transcends class boundaries. You are as likely to see his art on a calender on an office wall in Slough as you are to see it on the wall of an art lover.

[caption id="attachment_309" align="aligncenter" width="428" caption="The frustration of an extra-marital affair is illustrated well here. "][/caption]

He works on a number of topics particularly relationships between men and women. The way he depicts His main tool is the use of body language which he uses as a tool of expression. He knows how to depict pleasure and pain, love and loss.

[caption id="attachment_310" align="aligncenter" width="433" caption="If you don't know how this feels you have not truely lived."][/caption]

He drew some criticism for his more racy paintings, depicting scenes of light bondage, the prospect of group sex and bloodsucking. I doubt there was much in it, people need to remember that he is a relative newcomer to the art world, and he is still finding his style.

[caption id="attachment_315" align="aligncenter" width="433" caption="The atmosphere is both naughty and delicious"][/caption]

More recently he collabarated with motor sports legend and friend Jackie Stewart on a series of paintings. He related well the sometimes strained relationship between Stewart and his wife who would mark his timings within a heartbeat of widowhood.

[caption id="attachment_319" align="aligncenter" width="432" caption="How fast her heart must have been beating"][/caption]

Vettriano shares my love of motor sports and speed, and it inspired him to work on a rendition of Bluebird. As you may remember she was the car driven by Sir Malcolm Campbell, another Scot known for his love of speed and iron nerve. Campbell and his little blue bullet set many land speed records in the thirties and forties.

[caption id="attachment_313" align="aligncenter" width="433" caption="The famous Bluebird at Daytona beach"][/caption]

Even the South Bank Show, ITV's cultural flagship, has paid homage to this fine artist, dedicating an hour long special to his work. The programme is available to watch on Jack's website which I enclose below.

[caption id="attachment_317" align="aligncenter" width="430" caption="Shaken or stirred?"][/caption]

And I leave you with a picture that may have proved the inspiration for an L.A. based magazine editor's cover shot. Long may Mr Vettriano's career continue.

[caption id="attachment_316" align="aligncenter" width="434" caption="V x?"][/caption]

To learn more about Jack and his art I recommend his website:

http://www.jackvettriano.com/

Wight Zombies

2009-03-24T04:08:00.000-07:00

The Isle of Wight. England's pretty little front garden with it's Cowes Festival and Osborne House, home of Queen Victoria. And Zombies.

Hang on... ZOMBIES??!

Thats right, a whole tribe of them live alongside the seaside donkeys and daytrippers. Led by Darren Winter, artist, film-maker and zombie-in-chief, they have expanded to club nights, movies and even advertising beer.

So how does this fit into the teashop and candy-floss image of the Isle of Wight? Well, it doesn't to be honest. In fact the whole burgeoning horror scene is the island's counter-culture.

For the last two years they have held the Zombie march through Ryde and other towns, stumbling, swaying, peering in windows and generally scaring the living shit out of people. I so want to join in one year.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AArqM9Vo9Fs&hl=en&fs=1]

Most recently Darren and his team have been working on their feature film, Bad Place. The Isle of Wight's own Blair Witch? We wait with bated breath as it is now in post-production.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hvya9mQcfdk&hl=en&fs=1]

When he is not scaring the bejeysus out of the tourists Darren works on his art project, inked in the blood of his victims, presumably.

Actually no, some of them are cut from Vinyl. He also does comissioned portraits.

So I had a few questions for the King of the Undead:

I bet Halloween is fun in your house?

We do dress up with our daughter and have Halloween dinner but this year we hope to go trick or treating now she's older.

We usually do the Wightzombie march in the evening around
Halloween time which is always good fun but my dream would be to have a big house and lots of money to turn it into a haunted house for a week or longer, have people come in and scaring the hell out of them, maybe a competition where someone get money if they spend a whole night there........

How big is the horror scene in the Isle of Wight?

We have a large alternative scene on the Island (Dark Wight) so horror films go down well here. Most islanders are still quite naive and sceptical to new things, that's why the alternative island is so strong.

You either conform to the island way or you don't, its very black and white (pardon the pun) and as a horror film maker who has a deferent point of view I’m up against some resistance when it comes to ideas and the business side.

What fiendish plans have you made for 2009?

2009 is going to be a busy year with another baby on the way in May and a planned house move in with parents who are moving down from London.

I also want to get started on a new, scary as hell, horror film this year plus some music vids, 2 film festivals, finding a distributor for my first horror film Bad Place, hopefully a EWF Wrestling horror film with another film producer Joe Jenkins and various other scripts and film project in pre-production, Ahhhhhhh.

Tell us something about your art?

I mainly do it as a sideline; I do two types of art, abstract art (the graffiti artist in me) and a new style of art using Vinyl and Enamel.

The abstract art is all about flow and colour and the vinyl at is a technique I started in 1990 when i started work in a sign shop, basically i take a photo and I separate the photo in to a maximum of 4 colours, I then blow it up and hand cut each separation out of the coloured vinyl. Then i get a glass coated metal panel made by A.J.Wells that gets put in a furnace at around 500 degrees creating a tough as hell Enamel panel. Finally I lay the hand cut vinyls on the panel colour by colour and hey presto. its kind-a like posturizing a photo on the computer but without the pixelisation you get from those cheap looking, pop art style canvases you can get.

I’m hoping Sharon and Ozzy will buy me portrait of them so if anyone reading this knows them please let me know, he he.

If you want to see my stuff please go to www. darrenwinter. com

Motor Neuron Disease: Sarah's Crusade Continues

2009-03-24T04:07:00.000-07:00

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pe2F3F_26gM&hl=en&fs=1]

Pictures speak a thousand words don't they?

While some sufferers of terminal diseases throw their hand in and wait for their life to end, Sarah Ezekiel has declared all-out war on her illness.

She has raised funds, co-ordinated a long running campaign on facebook and now made a film to raise awareness. On top of that she has found time to squeeze in a spot of modelling and is due to visit Buckingham palace later this year.

Sarah was approached by Donna Cresswell of the MND association last year and asked if she would be interested in appearing in a short film to raise awareness of the disease. Naturally she was on-board right from the start.

It wasn't an easy film to make, the basement was cold and hard, which wasn't good news for Sarah. But the film wasn't easy to make. The advert is currently being shown at over 50 independent cinemas across England and Wales.

The 90-second film tells the story of a young woman who is suddenly ‘attacked’ by MND. An actress plays the part of Sarah and as her body deteriorates, illustrating the muscle-wasting effects of MND, the actress’s head is superimposed on the body of Sarah.

This is the first time the MND Association has produced a broadcast advert to raise awareness of this fatal, neurodegenerative disease which has relatively low recognition among the general public. Its hard-hitting style is likely to shock some audiences. The aim is to stimulate viewers’ curiosity to find out how they can help the charity fight back against MND.

About MND:
• MND is a rapidly progressive condition in the majority of cases.
• The cause of MND is unknown and there is no known cure.
• MND affects around 5,000 people in this country alone at any one time.
• In the UK five people a day die from MND.
• MND is the name given to a group of related diseases affecting the motor neurones (nerve cells) in the brain and spinal cord.
• As the motor neurones die, muscles weaken and waste. People lose movement in their arms and legs. The muscles that control breathing, speaking and swallowing can also be affected. The mind usually remains alert.

http://www.sarahsstory.org.uk/

Shaking up the Drinks Industry

2009-03-24T04:06:00.000-07:00

In spite of pubs closing nationwide at a rate of fifty a week (quoting the publican.com), one arm of the drinks industry in on the rise.

Shaker Bartending may be the S.S. Carpathia of the bar trade, and I am going to tell you a bit about them.

Founded in 2001 by Adam Freeth, they started out with a small office in Birmingham and a small portable bar. But their biggest asset was their knowledge of drinks, bars, and how to run them.

Over the years they have raised the standards of bar service throughout the country, established their first rate bar academy, and ran launch parties for some household names.

Their academy runs several courses, starting with the very basics, all the way up to 'flair' bartending, made famous in the Tom Cruise movie 'Cocktail'.

Adam and his company run a consultancy for bars and brands too, a much needed tool in the modern climate. They pass on their knowledge and skills in a classroom environment and behind a model bar.

But their most noted work is in the events industry. They have run private parties, weddings and launches for BMW, Deloitte, Diageo, Firebrand events, Luminar and PriceWaterhouse Coopers.

So to get you started we are going to leave you with some of their finest cocktails.

Just don't lick the screen.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZw24e_d4CE&hl=en&fs=1]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcK2UviHz9s&hl=en&fs=1]

The Power and the Passion of the Platinum Minds

2009-03-24T04:05:00.000-07:00

There is a real buzz in the air at the London-based Platinum Mind productions. They are entering 2009 with a sense of giddy excitement and anticipation more akin to a small child on Christmas eve, than the rest of us in the current economic gloom.

The brainchild of Derek Owusu, Platinum has built up a portfolio of artistic talent including music, film, design and dance. The main players of the team are Sarah Butler (Graphics and art) and Earl Williamson (Film and web design).

To meet Derek, or Del, is to come face to face with an enigma. On one hand a polite mannered, well spoken Londoner, on the other hand a force of nature whose energetic and passionate enthusiasm is as contagious as bird flu in a branch of Nando's. Platinum Minds are not his only project, he also works with East End Gospel choir, Charisma Fire.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ILbrb0izwg&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1]

He had reasonable success with the band London Calling in the Orange Unsigned try-outs. This in turn led to a recording with RAK studios.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aqf_CvSwt_U&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1]

What did you aim to achieve when you created Platinum Minds?

Well, the idea was to be able to put together a self sufficient team. Music production, film, video, photography the full Monty. And to be able to have at least one major project a year, whether it be for internal and external purposes. Since its creation in 2002, I think we've managed that, everything from producing a hit underground music video in "Bibles, Bibles" (Earl Williamson was director of photography for this), corporate projects for Orange PCS (I have personally taken part in two major events performing for Orange), and Sarah has undertaken some impressive photography gigs). Our aim was to make services, and facilities that were previously unobtainable in the right hands and it looks like we have.

What are your plans for 2009?
Writing more material! And finding more talent to work with. It's only the 2nd week in January and I'm still buzzing from meeting up with some talent at auditions last week, it's a very exciting time, and I just want to get back to basics of writing a song, you know?
What were your musical influences when growing up?

Well, the Beatles first and foremost. Especially the "Abbey Road" and "Let It Be" albums as well as their very early stuff. That was from my Dad, my mum gave me Elvis and Lionel Ritchie, and my Uncle and Aunt gave me Bob Marley. In between all of that, mix in African rhythms and you have what you hear today... My musical taste has varied over the years, it's hard to pin point what I really like more what doesn't influence me!

Are you/did you have a party for Obama's inaugeration?

No, I didn't but I called my Uncle in America to sing "Here Comes The Sun".... Very moving experience. When you've grown up hearing people say what's not possible - the end of Apartheid, the Berlin Wall coming down, a black president in the US, it's quite humbling to know that some things are possible. I'm very proud of what's happened just because it's happened in my generation. I'll have a celebratory coke for him!

This man knows how to party.

To see more of Platinum Minds follow this link:

http://www.myspace.com/platinummind

What credit crunch?

2009-03-24T04:04:00.002-07:00

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nF7jnCcKpPM&hl=en&fs=1]

How come my parties are never like this? Well if I had $35 Million at my fingertips then maybe I could splash out on more than a tube of Pringles and a case of Skol.

But the Emirates can afford to do a lot better with their multi-squillions, and they have decided to invest all their working capital in the tourist industry. Which takes rock-solid balls in the one of the most unstable areas in the world, when you consider that their main clients will come from Europe and the Americas.

But the hotel Atlantis is truely the icing on the cake. It boasts 2000 rooms, world renowned restaurants by Mitchelin-starred chefs, the most amazing bars I have ever seen (I am a bit of a bar geek, being a long time barman), with Whiskys sourced from Scotland, Japan, Kentucky, and Ireland.

Their opening party guest list read like the who's-who of anybody that matters. Robert De Nero to promote his restaurant, Kylie Minogue came and sang, Sir Richard Branson, Charlize Theron, Denzil Washington among others. Oprah Winfrey did arrive but had to dash back to the USA as her house was very near a forest fire. Now there is a dilemma, I think I would stay for the party and worry about the house after.

Not only that but it has the most lavish spa in the world, ideal to keep the wife/girlfriend/fiancee happy for hours on end.

Try the Dubai glamour ritual, girls. I don't know what it does but I am sure it will be worth the money.

But my personal favourite has to be the Lost Chambers suite. Straight out of a James Bond movie, it has one wall that is totally glass looking out to the Ambassador Lagoon.

So what can I do but recommend the place? That's if the credit crunch hasn't hit you and you have a spare £2000 a night. It makes you feel better about stealing that bathrobe...

Chicken Allasio

2009-03-24T04:04:00.001-07:00

[caption id="attachment_152" align="aligncenter" width="459" caption="A wholesome tasty meal"][/caption]

You need:

Two chicken breasts

One beef steak tomato

One mixed meat tapas packet containing choritzo and parma ham

One ball of fresh Mozzarella

Olive oil

Oregano

This one is a bit fiddly but it is worth it. Take each chicken breast and cut a pocket in them with a sharp knife. Roll up the choritzo and insert into the pocket of the breast. Then wrap the parma ham around the breast. Take an oven proof dish and add a table spoon of olive oil to the bottom. Add the chicken and ham carefully. Then using a fresh knife chop the tomato into small diced pieces and place carefully on top of the chicken. Then take the mozzarella ball and chop it into slices. Take equal amounts of Mozzarella and place on top of the tomatoes. This isn't as easy as it looks. Finally add a teaspoon of Oregano to the top of each.

Place the dish with the chicken in it into a pre-heated oven at 160 degrees and cook for 30 minutes or until you are certain it is cooked. Check the middle with a knife if you are not sure.

Allasio is a small town in northern Italy where I first tried a dish similar to this. I recommend a visit some day.

Buono appetito!

Roast Chicken with Lemon and Garlic

2009-03-24T04:03:00.000-07:00

You need:

One chicken, suitable for roasting.

Two lemons

Four cloves of Garlic

Olive oil

Tarragon, salt and pepper.

Roasting potatoes and root veg if you like

Switch oven on at 160 degrees. Place the chicken on a baking tray with a tablespoon of oil in the bottom. Grate a lemon and keep the zest on a small plate then cut it into wedges. Next remove the string or elastic binding the chicken and stick the lemon right up it's bum! Take your cloves of garlic, peel them to the bare flesh and shove them up it's bum too. You may alternate between lemon and garlic to ensure an even flavour.

Next rub a little oil into your fingers and massage it into the chicken breast and legs. Then sprinkle the zest over the chicken.

Follow this up with a tablespoon of freshly chopped tarragon and season with salt and pepper.

Chop several potatoes and place around the chicken, season with salt, pepper and tarragon.

Place in the oven and cook for approximately 40 minutes, or until the chicken has cooked through to the middle.

As it cooks the flavour of the lemon and garlic will seep out into the chicken flesh and into the potatoes in the baking tray.

And there you have a delicious healthy chicken dinner.

Enjoy!

[caption id="attachment_149" align="aligncenter" width="460" caption="Going in"][/caption]

Greek Salad

2009-03-24T04:02:00.000-07:00

[caption id="attachment_144" align="aligncenter" width="460" caption="Greek Salad"][/caption]

This is a lovely Mediterranean salad that is chunky and tasty.

You need:

One cucumber

Two beef-steak tomatoes

One block of Feta cheese (Total is best)

One small pack of Mint leaves

Cut the cucumber, tomatoes and feta cheese into dice-sized pieces. Roughly chop the mint and add all ingredients to a bowl with a tablespoon of olive oil. Stir all ingredients well and tip into a serving bowl. You may wish to add a sprig of mint for decoration.

Nothing to this one.

Olive oil

Tuscan Chicken

2009-03-24T04:01:00.002-07:00

I recently came up with an italian Chicken receipe on a warm summer night when I was having a bit of a cooking experiment day. I hope you like it.

Serves two.

You will need:

Six chicken thights, skinned and boned.

Four or five rashers of unsmoked bacon, finely diced.

One punnet of mushrooms.

One tin of tomatoes, chopped.

125ml of red wine.

Mozarella Cheese ball, nice and moist.

Worcester sauce, Oregano, Salt and Pepper.

Set a hob at 180 degrees

Take a hot wok and a dash of oil, and heat gently. Add the chicken and bacon to the wok and stir until they are just nicely cooked.

Add the punnet of mushrooms and stir-fry until they reduce or shrink.

Add the red wine and allow everything to soak.

Add the tin of tomatoes.

Allow mixture to simmer then add a sprinkle of Oregano, a dash of salt and pepper and a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce.

Take a taste with a teaspoon. If it is to your taste, great. If it is too sweet add more Worcester sauce (I use loads). If it is too sour add a sprinkle of sugar (sticky brown sugar is best).

Heat an oven at 180 degrees.

Take two earthenware bowls and spoon the mixture into the bowl.

Open the Mozarella packet and carefully slice it into four slices, then carefully add two slices to the top of each bowl. You may also add a pinch of Oregano for garnish.

Cook the two bowls in the oven for ten minutes or until the Mozarella is completely melted.

Carefully remove from the oven and serve with fresh Focaccia bread or potatoes and veg if you like.

Enjoy!

Turning Cartwheels in my Mind

2009-03-24T04:01:00.001-07:00

Facebook For Good Entry from Niall Hammond on Vimeo.

Imagine being trapped physically within the confines of your own body, held down by an invisible hand. Steadily, inevitably becoming unable to move or speak.

Such is the fate of those coping with Motor Neuron Disease., approximately 7 out of 100,000 people, or 5000 alone in the United Kingdom.

It does not affect the senses, or the intellect. You can still see, hear, smell and feel, and your brain will remain as sharp and focused as always. Instead it locks the person away inside their own body.

The most famous sufferer of Motor Neuron Disease is Professor Stephen Hawkins, who has, in spite of his illness, produced some of the most spectacular thesis of the modern age. He is a rare case, in that he has survived more than 35 years with the disease. Normally it is fatal within 3 - 5 years.

Strangely, twice as many men are affected as women. MND attacks the upper and lower motor neurons, leading to wasting of muscles, loss of mobility, and an inability to speak or swallow. It is not something that can be directly diagnosed, it is more a process of elimination.

Sarah Ezekiel was diagnosed with the disease in 2000, shortly before she gave birth to her second child, Eric. Within a matter of months she started to lose the movement in her arms and her speech began to deteriorate. Furthermore it ended her marriage and left her needing 24 hour care.

However none of this seems to stop her. Most recently she held a video conference for Coventry and Staffordshire Universities. The questions ranged from the technology she uses to communicate, to what bank she was with.

Her current method of communication with the outside world is her laptop. Indeed over the last eight years Sarah has become very adept with communication technology. She had a voice synthesiser with a Southern American accent - have a nice day y’awl! Nowadays she uses a chin switch to operate it, which has been causing strain on her jaw and neck muscles.

Organising and managing her own life is becoming increasingly difficult. Most of her carers are paid by cheque, and the facility of paying this is slowly being replaced by chip and pin.

Shopping is a problem, as she cannot use her arms she can neither pay or pack, so she needs her carer’s assistance for that.

Most recently she has been filming an advert to raise awareness of MND, and it is due to be on our screens by autumn.
Facebook For Good Entry from Niall Hammond on Vimeo.

Cajun Stirfry

2009-03-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

[caption id="attachment_57" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="An easy to make Cajun stir fry"][/caption]

Today we have a simple idea for a stir fry with plenty of scope for adaption. You will need:

One large onion

Two peppers (any colour)

a punnet of mushrooms

Three or four thin slices of parma ham

Four thin slices of chorizo sausage

Four slices of Pepperoni

Six frankfurter sausages

160 grams of fresh king prawns, cooked

One cup of rice

A good shaking of Cajun spices

[caption id="attachment_59" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="An interesting mix of cooked meat, seafood and vegetables"][/caption]

Method

Put a pan of boiling water on the stove. Once it is boiling add the cup of rice and stir gently. Next dice the onion as thin as possible. Then chop the peppers and mushrooms and roughly chop the frankfurters, and dice the cooked meat.

Take a large wok and add a tablespoon of olive oil. Add the diced onion and break it up with a spatula, stirring regularly until the onion is a light caramel colour. Then add the mushrooms and continue to stir until they have shrunk down. The peppers are added next and lightly fried.

[caption id="attachment_58" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Stir fry all the ingredients"][/caption]

After them you add the meats, the frankfurters and the prawns. Finally add two tablespoons of Cajun spices. Once the rice is cooked drain the water and add to the stir fry. Continue to stir well and taste a bit. If it needs a bit more spice add a sprinkle. Finally dish it up into a large bowl and serve. And thats your lot!

Uncle Mario's Meatballs

2009-03-24T03:59:00.000-07:00

Ok the guy wasn't really my uncle but he was my Mother's boyfriend for a long time. He was also an excellent cook and he passed down the recipe for light meatballs to me about ten years ago. You will need:

A full loaf of cheap bread for the bread crumbs.

Six Eggs

A kg of minced beef or pork. Even lamb can be used.

Three tins of tomatoes

A small amount of flour

Parmesan cheese

Good quality Spaghetti

A pinch of fresh Oregano

Freshly grated parmesan cheese

Method

First you need to lightly toast your bread on both sides

: Toast the bread lightly

Then use your hands to break it up into small pieces and break down into bread crumbs in a blender

: Break the toast down into small pieces

: Break the bread into crumbs using a blender

Then turn your over on at about 180 degrees. Then tip all your bread crumbs into a baking tin and place in the oven. Occasionally check they are not burning and shane the tray carefully to bring the crumbs at the bottom to the top. In about fifteen minutes they should be nice and brown.

: Nice brown dry bread crumbs will keep for weeks in an airtight jar.

Next you take a nice big mixing bowl. Unpack your mincemeat and add it to the bowl. Next you remove the egg white from the egg by breaking them very gently and pouring the egg white into a container. You do not need the yolk. When you have six egg whites add them to the mixing bowl. Add three good handfuls of breadcrumbs. Add a pinch of salt, a pinch of pepper, a good table spoon of Oregano and a tablespoon of parmesan cheese. Before you get your hands dirty, half fill a bowl with flour and place a frying pan with a little oil on the stove, alow it to heat gently. Have a plate ready for the meatballs when they are formed.

: A good size mixing bowl and the mince, egg, breadcrumbs and seasoning

Befor the next bit you first need to roll up your sleeves and wash your hands thoroughly, with soap, and under the nails. Now the bit you have all been looking forward to! Mix the ingredients of the bowl together thoroughly making sure the egg and the breadcrumbs mix into the mince. When you have one huge big ball of mince you roll it into smaller, golf or tennis ball size meatballs (depending on your appetite) and place them on the plate. Then place them in the bowl of flour, one at a time until they are covered and place them back on the plate.

: One big meatball needs to be rolled down into smaller ones and covered in flour

Now wash your hands again, getting all the ingrediants off, and from under your nails, and dry them. You may want to turn the ventalation on or open a window as the next bit can get a bit smoky. Next fry the meatballs in the shallow oil one at a time and place back on the plate.

: Coat the meatballs in flour

: Shallow fry the meatballs one at a time till they go brown

: The finished articles

And that is your meatballs themselves done. If you want to leave some to cool and freeze for another day feel free. They often feed you for two or three days! Anyway onwards and upwards, tomato sauce next.

Take a nice thick bottomed steel sauce pot that is oven resistant. Add three tins of chopped tomatoes, and add a cup and a half of cold water. Gently bring to simmer on the stove and add worstershire sauce, salt, sugar and a drop of tabasco. How much of each depends how you like it so I recommend that you take a teaspoon and keep sampling it until you have the taste just how you want it. If you like you can add salsa sauce or any 'secret' ingredient you prefer. Switch your oven on at 180 degrees. Carefully place two meatballs per person into the sauce and spoon the tomato sauce over the meatballs. Then when the oven is hot place the whole pan into the oven and leave it to bake for 30 minutes, checking occasionally and you may carefully stir the tomatoes and spoon them over the meatballs to prevent dryness.

: Allow the sauce to simmer and adjust the taste to how you like it

[caption id="attachment_46" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Bake the meatballs in the sauce for 30-40 minutes "][/caption]

Finally boil a pan of water and add enough spaghetti for two people. When it is al dente, or as soft and you prefer, drain it and add to a dish. Using a thick towel or oven gloves remove the meatball pan from the oven. Allow them to stand for a minute. Take a ladle and spoon the meatballs over the spaghetti. Finally drizzle the tomato sauce over the meatballs. You may add a little Parmesan or Oregano for garnish.

Finally serve and enjoy.

Buono Appitito (As Mario would say)

Malta: It's big, it's clever, it's grown up

2009-03-24T03:58:00.000-07:00

We had an absolutely brilliant, brilliant time in Malta. Something we needed so much, we finally got a chance to let our hair down.

Easyjet flew us out there early on a sunday morning out of Gatwick. As an airline, Easyjet is sometimes thought of as a bit of a gamble, but we found them both punctual and their aircraft spacious. The only snag was an extra £20 baggage fee which we were made to pay.

Malta airport was small and clean with a lot of it's history framed on the walls.

The capital, Valetta, isn't a place for youngsters or small children, nor is it truely for the elderly and infirm (too many hills).

The Valetta does however, exude drama and romance. It was here that the Christian Knights held out against an overwhelming Ottoman Armada. Centuries later it held on in the face of Hitler's Stukas and potential starvation.

It is the only country to have been awarded, as a whole, a British bravery decoration, the George Cross, which is presented on the national flag.

A brief run down of what we did included the following. Monday we did a tour of the capital, Valetta, on foot. It is a beautiful place, with boroque balconies and faded grandeur. (I know what I am talking about, I have seen Grand Designs..)

Tuesday we just chilled out in the sun. Our hotel, the Fortina had a lovely lido deck where we could lounge in the sun and sip cocktails.

Wednesday we took a bus tour around the coast, finding ourselves in Marasokk bay, which was full of little market stalls and brightly painted fishing boats. We loved it.

Thursday we did a boat trip to Comino. On any other day it would have been fantastic, a chance to see a turqoise lagoon, but the sky was gray and the weather was cold! We spent most of the time on the boat trying to keep warm.

Friday we did a smaller harbour boat trip, exploring the three cities, the Grand Harbour and gawping at the rich people's yachts.

Saturday we had a walk around Valetta and did a bit of souvineer shopping, then chilled out on the hotel's lido deck for the afternoon.

Sunday, we came home..

Our hotel, the Fortina Resort, was, even by my standards, extremely impressive. It has two parts, the four star part and the newer five star part. We stayed in the four, but we had access to the five star part. We had an outdoor lido deck with a seawater pool in front of the harbour, with an outdoor bar. We went all-inclusive so all our drinks were included, including cocktails... heaven!

The food was of a very high standard. Maltese cuisine is virtually none existant, but they take a lot of influence from British food, which they do rather well, and italian food.

Valetta and in particular, Sliema, are highly commercial. They have every shop you would find on a British high street, including BHS, Marks and Sparks, Evans, Burger King, KFC, and most high street retailers.

The Maltese themselves are a nice sort of Mediterrainiean people. They are not as arrogant as the French or the Spanish, nor as Hawkish or grasping as the North Africans. Nor are they as boisterous as the Greeks, they are just nice, slightly reserved well brought-up children of Empire.

They don't hassle you to go into their bars or shops. You could walk around, even at night, and feel completely safe.

I set myself the slightly sad task of photographing as many people as I could who wear socks and sandles. My target was twenty, but if had been quick enough, I could have easily doubled that. My poor travelling companions were rather embaressed by my strange quest, but it didn't stop them acting as my spotters or getting very excited when one came my way.

Anyway all in all, it was the best holiday we have had in ages and I cannot recommend the place enough.

The Real Hotel Babylon

2009-03-24T03:57:00.000-07:00

From 1995-2004 I worked for a succession of top range hotels both in the UK and Ireland. Some anecdotes I would like to share with you here..

I once had my own little late-night poolside bar, all to myself. I used to dim the lights and play old soul classics, feeling like Humphrey Bogart. The trouble was the customers I usually got at the end of the night were usually drunken obnoxious salesmen with nothing better to do and nobody else to annoy.

Anyway I pick up some very drunken advice from various odds and sods. Such as:

"Three things to stay away from, Nick, Hard drugs, Homosexuality and Bungee jumping.

..and never have sex with a girl with the same name as your sister."

One time I served breakfast to the ’ladies’ under 21 rugby team. I have never seen a more ferocious bunch of dykes in my life. Thighs like my waist. Tattoos like popeye and stubble like george michael. Remember Mutha Bacon in Viz? Exactly like her, all of them.

I met the Italian boys under 21 football team. The waitresses were drooling, you have never seen such a bunch of pretty boys. They acutally brought their own chef, who was like Jabba the Hutt, and his food was amazing.

After Leeds played Galatasaray from Turkey in 1998 the turks came back to Leeds to play the second leg. Now this was the time when two Leeds fans were stabbed in Istanbul during the riots. So security was tight, I got searched several times by Turkish secret police who thought they owned the joint.

One time I was given bags to take up to a room. When I went in there was nobody there but the room was filled with camera equiptment and lights. It was obvious they were filming a porn film in there. If you ever see a porn film with dreadful canary yellow floral curtains, it was filmed at my place.

One time in Dublin two old ladies came down to the bar to see themselves on the news, and they wanted me to tune the TV into the correct station. After lots of fumbling with dials I managed to find the hotels porn channel for them! Oops.. I covered the screen with my body and made my excuses. The old girl actually said "Was that me there?" I bloody hope not, love.

So if you want a hard, underpaid job that teaches you an incredible amount about people please go work for a hotel, you will love it, you sickos.

My sister is called Rebecca by the way.

Peach and Passion Cocktail

2009-03-24T03:56:00.000-07:00

Pride and Passion Cocktail

This is what I was making in the photo ;)

You need, one measure peach schnapps, one measure passion fruit syrup, half a measure of freshly squeezed lime, half a measure of cointreau and two measures of cranberry juice. For the garnish you need one slice of kiwi, one star shaped cookie cutter and one snip of cranberries and a cocktail stick.

Add the peach schnapps, passion fruit syrup, cointreau, lime and cranberry juice to a shaker and shake well. Strain into a martini glass.

For the garnish cut one slice of kiwi with the cookie cutter. Cut a small incision into the kiwi deep enough to hold it onto the glass. Snap a 2cm length of cocktail stick and stick it into the high side of the kiwi.

Drink and enjoy!

Regards

Nick

Italian Sausage & Chips

2009-03-24T03:55:00.000-07:00

[caption id="attachment_139" align="aligncenter" width="460" caption="Italian Sausage & Chips"][/caption]

This recipe is so simple I didn't even buy the book, I just memorized it!

You need four sausages, three large potatoes, one onion, olive oil, two garlic cloves, parsley, oregano, salt and black pepper.

Pre-heat oven at 200c Take a baking tray and drizzle olive oil over the base, just a very thin coating.

Prick sausages and chop potatoes into large chips with the skins on. Place them all in the baking tray. Dice the onion and coarsely chop the garlic, and sprinkle both over the sausages and chips.

Sprinkle a tablespoon of oregano, and one of parsley over the sausages and potatoes. Season with the salt and pepper. Drizzle again with olive oil.

Bake in the oven for 30 minutes or longer, occasionally checking the hardness of the chips with a small knife.

As soon as they are nice and soft in the middle, serve.

Mediterrainian Lamb

2009-03-24T03:53:00.000-07:00

Ingredients: Two Lamb fillets, Potatoes, Garlic, Rosemary twigs, Lemon and Olive Oil.

First off you dice your potatoes quite small and boil them in a pan of water until they are quite soft.

Then you take a baking tray, add a splash of olive oil, roughly chop the garlic and take two sticks of Rosemary. Add all the above ingredients and shake gently till they mix well. You can add a slice of bacon or proscuto ham for flavour if you like. Add another splash of Olive Oil over the top. Set the oven to 180 degrees and cook the potatoes until golden brown

Going in..

Coming out

While they are cooking you can grate and juice two lemons. Drizzle the zest and the juice of the lemons over the Lamb, and add two twigs of Rosemary. Then leave it to marinade in the fridge for about twenty minutes.

Finally grill the lamb for no more than five minutes on a medium heat, until it is brown on the outside and just pink on the inside.

Finally take the potatoes out of the oven once they are brown and serve with a fresh stick of Rosemary.

The Potatoes I nicked from Jamie Oliver, the lamb is all my idea. Yes Jamie, you can borrow it.

Yorkshire Independance Day

2008-04-24T04:34:00.000-07:00

The other day worryingly, I was in the foreign foods section of Sainsburys and was amazed to see Yorkshire Tea bags proudly stacked there. Since when had Yorkshire gained independance from the UK? Why didn't somebody tell me? I was shocked, even though I have little contact with my county of birth. This raises a whole lot more questions?

Who is the President of Yorkshire? Ed Balls? Arthur Scargill?

What is the national language? (Ay-up arr kid? Arrss leefe treeting ya cocker?)

Do we have a national currency? (what about a 99p coin or a £5.00 coin?)

If so, who is on the front of the coin? Thora Hird? That Jane Woman from The Cruise?

What is the national anthem? (Glory, glory Leeds United?...)

What is our foreign policies? (Drink, fight and get laid?)

Can we smoke in the pub again?

Do we have an Embassy? Hang on am I sat in it?

Now you mention it, am I the Yorkshire Ambassador?

Growing old disgracefully

2008-04-22T04:49:00.000-07:00

It is a sign of turning thirtysomething that you start to wonder how your twilight years will turn out.

I am actually starting to look forward to it, the only time you can really do what the hell you want.

Firstly I am looking forward to my forties and fifties. I have strong features and thick hair, so I won't go old and blotchy. Maybe a little gray around the temples but I can live with that, it is dignified. I doubt I will get fat because I have a fast metabolism which makes me a ball of nervous energy.

But it is only when you get into your seventies and eighties that you can really let rip. Firstly you can fake deafness and/or dementia. I have a family history of Athzeimers disease so I have a plausable case. I can call people by any name I like just to wind them up. Call the son by the nephews name, call the wife by the ex-girlfriends name.

I am going to develop a new interest in folk music and morris dancing. I am going to mow the lawn at 8am on a sunday morning. I am going to buy an uncontrollable dog and insist somebody else walks it because I am too old.

I am going to wear what the hell I damn well want. Tartan bodywarms, red neckchiefs, yellow shirts and turquoise trousers, with white socks and sandals. The last items are very important, they are a sign of senior status. Top that off with a sunvisor and off I go.

I am going to go into the trendiest bar I can find and berate them for not serving real ale. I am going to try and get away with smoking indoors, because you could do that when I was a lad before the world went mad. Kids today, pah! What do they know? Have you got an ash tray cocker?

I am going to go on holiday in the UK for the last ten years of my life, and insist a cold weekend in Ilfracome is better than a week in Florence.

Or I might just go the other way and spend long holidays at the drop of the hat in foreign climates just because I am retired, and I can.

My politicals are going to shift slightly to the right of Enoch Powell. I am going to hold court in front of the whole pub and harp on about how great England was before they let all the Poles and Chinese and Nigerians in. I am going to explain how an African-American can still be a white person if your mum or dad is American and the other parent is Afrikaaner. I am going to bore you lot senseless.

I am going to get some incontinence pants and threaten to shit myself if I don't get taken to the front of this queue immediately. And then I might just do it anyway. Or I might do it in a lift on the way to the top floor of a hotel. On a hot day.

And finally I am going to get one of those Motorised carts. Oh yes, one of those. And I am going to pimp it up, get flags and tassles, scythes on the wheels like a Roman Chariot, and an air-horn, just so people hear me coming.

I am going to drive it on narrow pavements, down precincts, towards people with clipboards, and when they ask me questions, I am going to blast them with the air horn. I am going to drive it down driveways, down one-way streets the wrong way and across motorways.

And, no matter how much you want me to, I am never ever going to die.

St George and Patriotism

2008-04-22T03:45:00.000-07:00

So St George's day is coming around again and we are faced yet again, with the case for making it a national holiday.

Is anybody adverse to a day off to be spent down the pub? Not me.

But the reason I don't want to do it is that St George has absolutely nothing to do with England.

He was a saxon saint who was martyred for christianity somewhere in europe. He never knew England, never visited it, never spoke the language or contributed anything to our culture, politics or religion. He was an imported saint when the Saxons were trying to put their mark on this land.

Not that England is short of home-grown saints. We have St Alban, who was another christian martyr. We have Edward the Confessor, who was so nearly a Saint until the Normans arrived. Why do we never celebrate them instead? They are ours for heavens sake.

In parallel, although Saint Patrick wasn't Irish, at least he had the courtesy to turn up there and do his bit for the church and nation. We celebrate his day by holding parades and getting lashed on Guinness.

But English patriotism is completely different. We have this habit of either being too polite or being too lairy and arrogant.

The polite ones don't want to offend non-Britains, and they certainly don't want to be associated with some skinhead in a Union Jack T-Shirt. I don't blame them. The lairy, arrogant ones don't want to be associated with the far left who seem hell-bent on giving our country away to the immigrants.

The real stigma is our Imperial past that we seem so keen to dissassociate ourselves from. Yes we did terrable things which we have never been accounted for. Yes we did dominate a third of the globe and bleed resources from every country we ever saw. Yes we did take slaves, riches and power from many tribes in many places. We did all these things and more and we can't change any of it.

But that is no reason to give the country away. England is the property of future generations of English, be they white brown or yellow. That last part is significant. The English have always evolved. Once we were all pale white with dark brown hair. We interbred with the Romans and some of our skin went a little darker. Centuries later the Celts arrived and we had red hair and freckles. In later years Asians arrived and West Indians. We all interbred and our gene pool became a vast paint pallet of world tribes. We must remember that it always was this way and always will be.

The English religion is in a constant state of flux. As I have previously stated, we have, in our day, worshiped the Sun, the Moon, Mars, Jupiter, Woden and Thor. In later years God arrived to weld it all together

England is an incredibly sophisticated country that has done some amazing deeds down the years. We achieved more than our Roman mentors ever did.

Should we have a national day? Yes, absolutely. But first we need to re-unite the country, and get our little armed camps from the pub, the club, the mosque, and the china districts talking together again. We must remember what makes us great, what makes us better people.

England should not be a country, but a state of mind.

Best regards

Nick
(An Anglo-Irish catholic grandson of an immigrant mick).

Nick's Lamb and Rosemary New Potatoes

2008-04-16T13:01:00.000-07:00

Ingredients: Two Lamb fillets, Potatoes, Garlic, Rosemary twigs, Lemon and Olive Oil.

First off you dice your potatoes quite small and boil them in a pan of water until they are quite soft.

Going in..

Coming out

Finally grill the lamb for no more than five minutes on a medium heat, until it is brown on the outside and just pink on the inside.

Finally take the potatoes out of the oven once they are brown and serve with a fresh stick of Rosemary.

The Tigers and the Treasure Map

2008-04-15T11:33:00.000-07:00

The Tiger's Tale
Once upon a Tiger, there was a time..
..no hang on, that's a bit wrong..
Once upon a time, there were two Tigers, called Tarquin and Tiges who lived in a green and pleasant land called England. They were not scary big Tigers, just little ones that preferred burgers to human flesh. They liked fishing and computer games. And both Tigers had a special power, you will hear more of that later. Their zoo had closed a few years ago so now they lived in a house by a river, with their human pets. The humans were out a lot so the tigers had time to themselves.
On one hot afternoon they were fishing on the river near home when they saw a bottle bobbing towards them. At first they didn't think much of it, until it came closer. Inside the bottle was a little boat and what appeared to be a piece of paper.
Tiges managed to grab it with his paw and bat it towards the shore. He picked it up and shook it, there was definitely a little wooden boat inside. With his big sharp teeth he pulled the cork out and took out the piece of paper.
Tarquin had a look at it. On the front it was a ships report log. That means it would say where the ship was, and where it was going, what was onboard, who was in charge, and all the other important stuff. On the back there was a map.
They laid it down on the ground and had a proper look.
"Hhmm… what does that bit there say?" Said Tiges, who wasn't a great reader.
"It says.. The boat was called the Portabello.. It was a golden treasure ship sailing back to Spain from America back in the year 1532. Wow, that was a very long time ago."
"You're right, it sure was. Now what's on the back?"
They turned the paper over carefully
On the other side was a big map with pictures of England, France, Ireland and an arrow pointing towards America. Next to the big map was a small sketch of an island near America, with the letter X on a beach. The words THE TREASURE IS HERE were written underneath.
Tiges and Tarquin looked at each other in amazement. "Do you think.. The buried treasure is really there?"
They were giddy with excitement. Not so much about the chance to get rich, they just liked the idea of a big adventure. But first they needed to be sure.
They packed up their equipment and headed back home in a hurry.
"Wow, just think, there must have been pirates and galleons and parrots in those days. What do you think happened to the ship?"
"Well, lets stick the computer on and find out matey."
They powered up the computer and logged on to the internet. They looked on a few history websites and put the ships name into a search engine.
After a few seconds it came up:
The Spanish Galleon, the Portabello, was shipwrecked off the coast of Bermuda in the year 1532, after it was attacked by the evil pirate, captain More-rum. He shot the ship up with cannonballs, tied up the crew and made them walk the plank to a watery grave. He then hid their treasure on a small island in the Carribean sea, and noted it down on a map on the back of the captains log sheet. Later his ship hit a storm and sank, but before it did, Captain More-rum put the map into a bottle and threw it over board.
That was nearly five hundred years ago! And the treasure chest must still be there, surely, buried under the sand on a small island for all that time.
Tiges and Tarquin were thrilled, this was exciting stuff. But now they needed some advice from a gold expert.
Tarquin typed in http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnBhZGR5Y29tLmllLw== and waited for the screen to light up. He pointed his webcam at himself.
A few seconds later a little face in a big green hat appeared on the screen, it was a leprechaun, sat at his computer somewhere in Ireland, the famous little people were experts on gold and treasure.
"Hello Declan, how are things on the Emerald Isle?" Said Tiges, meaning Ireland. He had known the leprechaun since the last time he visited there.
"Good heavens! Tigey boy, how the devil are ya? Is life treating you grand?" The leprechaun said.
"It is, mate, we're all good here. Listen, we found this map today , pointing towards buried treasure."
"Wow, are you pulling me leg?"
"No, seriously, it washed up on the river Thames."
"Well hold it up to the camera and I'll have a look."
The two Tigers grabbed a corner each and held the map up for him to see.

"Hmm..right….right…yeah, ok. Now turn it over."
The Tigers turned the map around carefully so Declan could see the writing on the Captain's log page.
"Let me see that.. Hhmm.. La Portabello.. Columbia to Espania.. Muchas muchas bling bling.. 1532. Well it looks genuine enough. The treasure, if this is right, is buried and marked by an X somewhere on an island in the Carribean sea."
"Are you sure it will still be there?" Asked Tarquin.
"Well has anybody seen the map except for you two and me?"
"No."
"Well then it is very likely that the treasure is still there."
"Do you want to help us find it?"
"Only if we can split it. I need a new crock of gold. I lost my last one when I hid it under the Northern Rock, and it got wiped out somehow.."
"OK matey, you're on. We will get a boat and pick you up in Ireland in a few days. Over and out."
The next few days were very exciting. Tiger and Tarquin got all the money they could out of the bank and bought all the tinned food and wet weather clothes they could find. They bought a little gas stove to cook on, lots of really big bottles of water to drink, a radio, a decent map, some sailing bits like rope, lifejackets, maps and compasses so they knew the way,
Now all they needed was a boat. As everybody knows, the best place to buy a boat was Mr Salty's boat yard, on the river Thames. The river they lived near.
Mr Salty came out to greet them. He looked like a cross between Captain Birdseye and a used car salesman.
"Harr-harr, two young Tigerrs, Oi sees? And what can Oi be dewing for you today?" He talked like a pirate.
"Erm.. Pardon?"
"Can I be of any help sir?"
"Oh, right, yeah, well we need a boat to sail to the Carribean sea"
"Oh very good sir, well I have a small clipper over there, it is a boat that sleeps five, goes quite fast and doesn't use up too much petrol."
"And how much is it?" Asked Tiges
"£80,000 sir."
Tiges jaw dropped, they didn't have that kind of money!
"Have you got anything cheaper?"
"No, no, that's the cheapest. I have the rowing boats if you don't mid doing all the rowing."
Tiges and Tarquin had a quick emergency meeting, they couldn't row all the way to the Carribean. Could they do some kind of deal? After a few seconds whispering they went back over to Mr Salty.
"Well Mr Salty, we can't pay you that kind of money now, but we have an idea.."
"Aarrr.. What that be?"
"Well since you know so much about boats you could sail us to the Carribean, and help us find the treasure."
Mr Salty's eyes lit up. "Treasure you says?"
"That's right, lots and lots of it. Gleaming gold and pearls, rubies and diamonds."
Mr Salty suddenly seemed a lot keener.
"Alright, you got my services. But we ain't taking any old ship though, we will take my own good ship, the H.M.S. Matilda."

He led the Tigers over to take a look at her. She was indeed a beauty, half wooden, half metal, with a huge mast and wide billowing sails. On her foredeck (the front) she had a huge cannon, and on the back she had nets and cabins big enough to sleep ten. She also had a little rubber boat on a crane hanging over the back for sailing close to a beach.
The very next day they fitted out the boat, brought the supplies on board, extra clothes, big barrels of petrol for when there was no wind. On the bridge (which isn't a bridge at all on a ship, it is the name of the main control area where the steering wheel is located), Mr Salty was wiring up a new piece of equipment. Tarquin came up to have a look at it all.
"What does that do?"
"Arrr.. That, my Tiger friend is the latest in navigation instruments. The Norm-norm, it will show you how to get anywhere. I bought it off a Monkey called Raffles at a car boot sale."
Just before they set off they had a little ceremony on the main deck. Mr Salty poured them a drink in a little cup and they all bashed them together.
"A toast, to good fortune, lads." Said Mr Salty. He then pulled out three sailors hats and put them on everybody. "And from now on you call me Captain Salty. If I give you Tigers an order you say 'aye aye Captain' and do it straight away. Sailing can be very dangerous so we must work together as a team, understand?"
"Aye-aye Captain!" Chorused the Tigers.
"And off we go. Raising anchor." He pulled a huge rope on a crank and the huge metal anchor rose out of the water. He went onto the bridge and steered the boat down the river towards the sea.
The river Thames took them east first, towards London. They waved as they went past the houses of Parliament. Then they went under Tower Bridge, that raised the road up so they could pass under. They stopped for Coffee and had a look around, to stretch their legs. Tarquin and Tiges had a ride on the biggest wheel in the world, the London Eye. After that they sailed on and the river got wider and wider. Other ships passed them, going to and fro. Pleasure craft, Container ships, huge Battleships. Some hooted their horns to say hello. At the rivers entrance they turned south to sail around the coast and into the channel. They sailed past Dover, taking pictures of it's pristine white cliffs. They sailed past Hastings, where William the Conquerer landed. They sailed past the Isle of Wight, where lots of people were out sailing for the day. From there they sailed on down the coast past Plymouth, where more Battle ships sat at anchor. Then they went on past Cornwall and stopped for tea at Lands End.
"So Captain Salty, how long have you been a sailor now?"
"Oh since I was a boy, I have always loved the sea. I served on Merchant ships, carrying coffee and sugar. I worked on Cruise ships, for people on holiday. We took them to Italy, Spain, Greece and Russia. They all loved our ships and had a great time."
Then his face looked a bit sadder
"I also served on Battleships many years ago. Once people from another country invaded the Falkland Islands and we went to war."
"Where's that?" Asked Tarquin.
"They are near the bottom of the world, but English people live there on little islands, believe it or not. After the invasion they were held on the island. The queen sent her vast fleet of Battle ships and many soldiers to free them and bring the country back under British control. It took many months and a lot of fighting, and we won in the end but.. My ship was sunk by a rocket. It was terrifying, many of my friends died in the sea."
Tiges and Tarquin were saddened by this but glad that at least Salty had survived. They soon cheered up, put their picnic away on the boat and sailed on out to see, heading north west now, towards Ireland. They had one last crew member to pick up.
Hours later they saw land again, a deep green colour with rugged rocks. Salty checked the Normnorm and the maps, which showed that they were exactly where they agreed to meet Declan, in Cork city. They sailed round the cliffs and up the river Lee. Soon they saw the leprechaun on the bank, waving a red flag to attract their attention. The red flag was the emblem of cork, with a white band and three castles on it.
"Howya lads! Glad you could make it on time." Shouted Declan from the bank. The tied the boat up with a thick rope and let him throw his belongings aboard. He brought no less than five suitcases, big ones too.
"Good grief, Declan, what do you need that lot for?" Asked Tiges
"Ah well I didn't know how long I would be out there, so I brought all my own stuff. Proper tea bags, Potato cakes, good Irish chocolate, and my Irish sports magazines. Oh and of course my fishing rods. Might have to catch dinner for you lot."
By now it was dark so they decided to spend the night in Cork before setting off in the morning. Declan showed them the best places to eat and drink, and gave them a tour of the city. It was from near here that the Titanic had made her final stop before her unfortunate meeting with an iceberg. For many years people had left Ireland, where there was little food in those days, to a new life in America. Declan took them to his favourite pub, Up the Craic, and bought them a hearty bowl of Irish stew, washed down with Rock Shandy, which was fizzy and tasted of Orange and Lemon.
Bright and early the next morning the H.M.S. Matilda set off out into the Atlantic. Many leprechauns stood on the banks to see them off. The bright sunshine soon cut through the Irish mist. Further and further they went, away from Ireland now and out into the deep Atlantic sea.
It soon got rough, and rougher still. Huge waves shook the boat, and the terrible wind blew all around.
It was freezing and soon they were all wet through. Tiges could think of nothing better than being in his warm bed. The boat rocked back and forth, side to side.
Soon Declan, Tiges and Tarquin were taking turns to be sick over the side. They puked their little guts up over the side of the boat. Yuck!
Eventually it settled down and the sun came out between the clouds. Tarquin, still feeling yucky, went up onto the bridge to see Captain Salty.
"Well that wasn't much fun, all those big waves. Does it get like that a lot?" Asked Tarquin.
"Not generally but it can happen out of nowhere. Anyway, your turn to take the wheel. Here you are, just keep the boat steady and the Normnorm will tell you the way to go. I am having a lie down."
"Ok." Said Tarquin, pleased to be given such a responsible job.
Captain Salty went below deck to the cabin he was sharing with Declan, who was fishing off the back. He lied down and looked at the pile of baggage the leprechaun had brought. One open bag contained nothing but tea bags for heavens sake. Who would think that a leprechaun would drink so much tea? He felt inside the bag and felt something like glass inside. He pulled it out and to his delight he found it was a bottle of Irish whiskey. He felt around in the tea bags and found three more bottles of Powers Irish Whiskey. This kind was so good that it is rarely sold outside Ireland. Well he had to try a little drop, the leprechaun wouldn't mind, he had four bottles after all. Hmm, nice stuff this whiskey. Perhaps he might have a little drop more…
On deck Tiges and Declan were struggling with a little fish they had caught. They had managed to reel it in and sling it on to the deck, but now it was slithering everywhere and they couldn't catch it.

Tarquin kept the boat steady, pointing west. The Normnorm said they were 230 miles from their treasure island. Still a long way then.
Tiges and Declan finally caught the fish and put it on a table so Tiges could take the skin off with his claws. Declan then showed him how to gut it with his nails and finally they baked it in tin foil over the stove. Declan boiled some potatoes in sea water mixed with fresh water. When dinner was ready Declan went down to the cabin to wake up Captain Salty.
Ah, there he was, lying facing the wall, snoring away. Declan gave the old sea dog a nudge, then a shake. He didn't budge, just snored away. Then Declan noticed an empty bottle under his arm. He lifted it up. "Ahhh now, Salty ya little gob sheen you have had away with all my whiskey." He checked around, indeed all three bottles were empty. He wouldn't be waking up any time soon. Declan's anger was punctured by mild panic. Salty was the only trained sailor out of all of them!
On the bridge Tarquin heard the Normnorm bleep a weather warning. Heavy storms coming in from the south, all shipping beware. Just at that moment Declan came bursting in.
"Tarquin, we have a bit of a problem, boyo. That old sea dog is fast drunk down there, three sheets to the wind, so he is." He panted.
Tarquin gulped, his sea skills were about to be tested to the limit.
Soon the boat was rocking again, thrashing back and forth. The pots and pans clattered in the galley. Equipment and provisions fell off shelves. The dark clouds in the sky were lit up by dazzling lightening. The rain lashed down hard on the boat.
Tarquin gripped the wheel and turned it into the wind. Tiges went on deck and lowered the sails, so they could not be pulled the wrong way by the wind. Declan scrambled down to the engine room to start the main motor. He pulled the start cord again and again. On the third attempt it spluttered and chugged into life.
The waves washed the sea water over the decks, soaking everybody. Tarquin swung the wheel round, forcing the front of the ship hard into the huge waves, forcing it up and down the waves. Tiges grabbed the radio and called for help.
Declan came back up from the engine room. He went through the emergency kit, looking for something helpful. He found an emergency rocket, which is no different to the ones you see on bonfire night. At sea they are used to ships to cry for help when they are in distress. He fired it into the air with a big Whoosh! Followed by a BANG that could be heard for miles.
Captain Salty started to stir and stretch. By heavens, that Powers Whiskey was good stuff. He stood up, feeling really queasy.
Tiges and Tarquin struggled to keep the ship from sliding over on it's side, and it was hard work. Declan was feeding petrol into the engine, which wasn't easy in a rocky boat.
The Captain dragged himself up the ladder onto the bridge. He was seeing double and his knees were weak. "Can I be of any help lads?" He asked, weakly.
The two tigers looked at each other then back at him. "Yeah, help us get out of this storm."
"Aye-aye lads!" And with that he was back to his old self. He took the wheel, pulled the ship through the waves north away from the storm. "More power Declan, bring it up to maximum revs!"
"Aye-aye Captain" Yelled Declan, hitting the engine with a large hammer. Smoke billowed out of the workings, covering the leprechaun in soot.
Eventually the storm got less and less, the sea less choppy, and then finally it was flat as a pancake. They all relaxed for an hour and tidied up the mess. Then they sat Captain Salty down for a good talking to.
"Listen, you so-called Captain, you let us down at a very dangerous moment back there. You got drunk on someone else's whiskey which is stealing, and nearly let us drown at sea." Declan was more cross than most, it was his flipping whiskey.
"I know, I am really sorry lads, it was an awful thing to do. It is just that I had not had a drink of whiskey for such a long time. I couldn't resist it. I promise it won't happen again."
"Well you must buy Declan some new whiskey the next chance you get. And you are not having another drop till this voyage is over, understand?"
"Aye aye Tarquin, that's a promise." He looked very solumn.
"Now apologise to Declan."
"I'm sorry Declan mate, I will make it up to you I promise."
The sailor and the leprechaun shook hands.
Later that afternoon when it was warmer The tigers and the leprechaun had a swim in the sea. Captain Salty was still a bit queasy so he stayed on deck and watched. They had a game of water football and did a bit of swimming underwater, looking at all the brightly coloured fishes.
After that Captain Salty cooked them a fish supper, which they ate hungrily. After dinner he pulled out an accordion, which is like a musical squeezebox, and treated them to a song.
"I'll treat you to an old song called a sea shanty now.. Alright here we go. You do the doodlebug…" He began to do a little dance as he sang and played "..you do the doodlebug into my heart.. You get my love life started when the music starts.. You doodlebug into my brain.. You get the bang bang feeling when my love is insane.."
The tigers and the leprechaun looked at each other in amazement. Wasn't this a Wham! Song? Was he still drunk?
He carried on.. "Wake meeeyyuupp before ya go-go, don't have me hanging on like a yo-yo."
Eventually he stopped and everybody clapped like mad. Captain Salty was truly off his rocker.
After that they all went to their hammocks for the night. A hammock is a swing made into a bed like a sling. They move with the ships motion so you don't feel sick in your sleep. You would be surprised how comfortable they are. Normnorm was left to do the driving.
Bright and early the next morning Captain Salty took the controls. He checked the weather, fine, no problems there, nice and sunny. He checked the wind speed and direction, quite strong north west wind, perfect. He checked the direction on the Normnorm, and gulped hard. The tide was taking them straight into the Bermuda triangle!
This was not good at all. The Bermuda triangle is an area of sea that extends from Bermuda in the Carribean, to Florida and The Azore Islands. For hundreds of years it has been a centre of strange happenings. Strange lights and shapes have been seen on the horizon. Compasses go mad. Huge ships and flights of aircraft have vanished without trace, never to be seen again.
They had to work fast. Captain Salty woke up the others and put them on battle alert. The took the sails down, battened down the hatches, closed the inside doors, and Declan turned the engine back up to full power. The huge machines began to chug and whirr. He turned dials up, and valves open. He fed petrol into the tank, and oil into the engine.
Captain Salty and Tarquin turned the wheel with all their might, bringing the ship about turn. It wasn't working! Tiges looked on, concerned. Then he noticed the Normnorm was printing off worrying messages.
BERMUDA TRIANGLE AHEAD! BERMUDA TRIANGLE AHEAD! ALERT ALERT
BREMUNA TWYUNGLE HEAD BER BER BER BER BER BER.. ZZZZZZ
Oh no! The triangle had sent the Normnorm mad!
"Can't you turn the wheel?" Tiges asked.
"We are, it isn't doing anything!" Yelled back Tarquin. Him and Salty were pulling the wheel with all their might but it wouldn't turn. It was taking them all the way into the triangle.
Declan shouted up from the engine room; "Engine at full power captain! She can't keep this up for much longer."
There was nothing they could do to stop it. Captain Salty made a decision. "Declan, cut the engine, switch it off."
Then he turned to the two Tigers. "Break out the weapons lads." He led them to a chest at the back of the boat. He opened it and pulled out huge curved swords called cutlasses, just like pirates use. He also armed himself with two old muskets, really old fashioned handguns that find single tiny cannon balls and took about half an hour to load. He also took a spear gun, normally used to spear sharks, and slung it over his shoulder.
Captain Salty took his binoculars and stood at the front of the boat. Tiges took the left and Tarquin took the right, neither sure what they were supposed to be looking for. It was quiet, the only noise was the waves lapping at the boat.
Salty scanned the sea with his binoculars. He went left to right, then back and saw a spot of green light coming from under the water.
"Shiver me timbers! It's the Kraken!" This was not good.
"Wh-whats a Kraken?" Asked Tiges, knowing it wouldn't be nice.
The green under-sea light made straight towards the boat. Now bubbles were rising from it, and then foam…
"What's that?" Said Tarquin, suddenly wishing he could go home.
A huge tentacle, as long as football pitch shot straight up out of the water, then another and another.
"Sweet mother of pearl!" Salty took aim at the first tentacle and fired. He missed, it moved that fast.
From under the sea now a huge body appeared, with eight long tentacles and two big black eyes. It had a huge mouth with sharp teeth.
Tiges jaw dropped. He really wanted to go home now.
Tarquin tried to remain calm, and remembered his Tiger training. What was the Tiger's first rule? A Tiger never charges if he can scatter his enemies with a roar.
He jumped onto the roof of the bridge and gave his best "RRROOOOOAAAAAARRR!!!"
The Kraken batted him off the roof with a sweep of a tentacle. Pow!
Tiges charged with his cutlass and slashed at the first tenticle. He cut it first, then tried sawing through it, it was tough and leathery.
"Lads try and - Oh help!" Salty cried as a tenticle wrapped around his waist and lifted him up.
"Salty!" Cried Tarquin, trying to grab the Captain's ankles.
Declan arrived on deck and was hammering away at the tentacles with his hammer. Tiges felt a tenticle grab his tail. He chopped hard with his cutlass, but it dragged him backwards down the deck. He dug his claws into the wood, trying to stop it dragging him.
On the bridge a tenticle swept around Declan, smashing the Normnorm to pieces. He grabbed a fire extinguisher and used it to batter the tenticle until it withdrew. He ran to the front and pointed it into the face of the monster. "Here, have a taste of this!" He yelled and blasted it in the eyes with dry powder. It let go of the boat, but it still held Salty fast. It was pulling him towards it's big slimy mouth.
Salty took his spear gun and poked it right in the mouth, again and again, and then in the eye. The thing howled in pain and threw him back on to the boat. Tarquin picked him up and checked he was ok. He was shaken but otherwise ok.
Declan and Tiges joined them at the front of the boat. The thing had backed off, but it was coming back now, and it was very angry!!
The first tenticle broke into the boat just under the waterline. The second pulled down the rigging poles, where the sails were held. The third ripped the bridge to shreds , sending bits of wood and computer flying everywhere.
Water gushed in, flooding the cabins, and the galley, where the cooker and fridge were. The ship started to sink.
"This is it boys, we're lost at sea!" Yelled Declan.
"Get to the lifeboat at the back!" Called Salty. He fired into the Kraken at close range with his old musket. Declan fired a good shot with the spear gun. It hit the thing right in the big black eye. The spear had a length of rope to it, and Declan tied the rope to the boats mast. If they were going down they were taking this thing with them.
Tarquin and Tiges had one last trick up their stripy sleeves. The old Tiger magic trick, which they had never really tried.
They each pushed their paws together and rubbed them hard. As they did so they concentrated as hard as they could. They thought of warmth, of heat, of power and courage. They thought harder and harder. They rubbed their paws harder and harder.
In between their paws something sparked, then flashed. Then a ball of blue light appeared in each of them. They concentrated harder and the ball got bigger and brighter. Then finally when each had a ball of blue light humming in front of them they took it in one paw each and threw it right at the Kraken.
Whoosshhh!! Pow! Pow! Smash!
The balls of blue light hit the Kraken hard in the body then bounced off. The bounced back off the boat and skimmed over the water like a skimming stone and smashed back into the Kraken again and again. It Roared a terrible roar! As it did so a power ball caught it right in the mouth and went down into the Kraken's belly.
The Kraken whimpered and moaned as it had the worst case of belly-ache imaginable. The other ball hit it hard against the back of the head. Then finally it stretched it's tentacles out as far as it could as it started to glow with blue light. Then the whole thing exploded in a big green yucky shower! Gallons and gallons of green gunge rained down on the boat and the sea.
"YYEeeaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!" The Tigers hugged each other in glee!
"Come on lads, we have to get off this boat before it sinks!" Yelled Salty. He had the lifeboat ready to go, Declan was already there with him.
The two tigers jumped into the lifeboat as the H.M.S. Matilda broke up and sank quickly into the water. The only problem was the lifeboat was still attached to the Matilda by the rope crane. Salty had lost his knife, Declan didn't have one either.
"Quick!" Tarquin yelled, as he and Tiges bit and clawed the rope as hard as they could with their razor sharp teeth and claws.
Finally the rope snapped and the H.M.S. Matilda slipped slowly beneath the waves. Captain Salty stood up and gave a last salute to his best ship, tears in his eyes.
For hours the lifeboat chugged it's way out of the Bermuda triangle. Lucky for them Salty had had the sense to pack the lifeboat with food and water, petrol for the engine and a blanket to share.
Night fell and the four of them huddled under the blanket, shivering and cuddling each other. The full moon reflected beautifully off the water. They ate some of Declan's Irish chocolate and drank fresh water. A group of Dolphins came over and gave them a friendly nudge. They were nice dolphins who said hello in Dolphinese. The tigers waved back as they went away to play in the Caribbean sea.
Early next morning the burning sun rose. Tarquin was the first to wake up. He rubbed his sore eyes and looked around. Was that land over there? It was. "LAND AHOY!" He shouted, waking everybody up with a start.
Soon all four were paddling away towards the land. The engine chugged away as hard as it could. It got closer and closer, and finally the lifeboat landed on the beach. They were finally safe.
They got out and had a look around. This island had a big beach and mountains further back. In front of them was a little wooden bar, called Bob's bar. They were certainly thirsty enough for a drink.
The owner came over to meet them, he was another Tiger "How's me brother tigers today? Are we all good ha ha? You want a drink?"
"Gosh, yes please."
Come here den, I got just de t'ing." Bob had a strange accent.
They sat down at the bar while Bob took out four heavy coconuts and cut into them with a knife. He then added some milk into them and some strawberry sauce. Then he shook them and stirred them and put them on the bar for everybody to drink.
Mmmm they were absolutely delicious. Strawberry coconut milk. Definitely worth fighting a giant squid for. They paid for their drinks and spent the next hour telling the story to Bob of how they had come all the way from the UK, fought through storms and finally defeated a giant squid in a sea battle. Bob was amazed.
Tarquin took out the map and told them about the treasure. Bob frowned, he had never heard of any treasure on this island, and he had lived here all his life.
When they were feeling full they said goodbye to Bob and had a look around the beach for an X on the ground. Unfortunately they found nothing, not a single X on the ground. Just lines of palm trees.
That night they went back to Bob's bar feeling sad. Perhaps there was no treasure here after all. "Never mind, lads. You can all sleep in my spare shed tonight, no problem, man."
They spent the night in Bob's spare shed, which was big, with chairs and sleeping bags. He used to live here himself apparently.
In the morning they had breakfast at Bob's bar. He made them Salt fish with Ackee, which looked like banana but tasted like potato. They also had deep-fried dumplings and a glass of coconut juice.
After breakfast he told them he had a sea plane hooked up on the pier and would they like a tour of the island? Why not indeed, it was a lovely day.
Bob's seaplane was a plane with wings but it also had pontoons to float. It didn't need wheels to land because it took off and landed on the sea. What a good idea eh?
They took off and flew over the coast. They saw huge cruise ships anchored up in the main port. They saw little fishing boats working away out at sea. They flew over the coast and the misty mountains, where people grew coffee plants. They flew past a waterfall and a crocodile infested river.
As they flew back towards Bob's place Tiges noticed something about the palm trees. From the air he could see they were formed out in perfect line, as though they had been planted that way. He looked closer and the two lines crossed in the middle..
..that was in, they were in an X shape.
X MARKS THE SPOT
This was it! The treasure must be down there! Bob brought the plane into land and the passengers were out before he had even stopped. They grabbed spades and made their way to the spot where the two lines of palm trees met. The four of them dug like mad, sending sand flying everywhere. Bob looked on, scratching his dreadlocks.
Finally Declan's spade his something hard. He felt down and knocked on it with his knuckles, it was wooden and hollow. Was it..?
The four of them dug around it, finding the corners and the edges. They dug the chest out and stuck ropes around it. They pulled and heaved on the rope and the chest slowly rose.
They opened the chest with a hammer and chisel, borrowed from Bob and opened it.
Inside was endless gold coins, pearls, rubies, sapphires and diamonds. Jewels of every description and colour. They had found it! They had found the buried treasure! They were rich!
That night there was one heck of a party at Bobs bar, the likes of which Jamaica had never seen. They paid Bob well for his hospitality and picked out a new boat for Salty.
After a week in a luxury hotel they flew home first class, as happy as Tigers can be.

THE END

The Story of Pat and Margaret

2008-04-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

"Dear Pope, I want to leave the holy order and marry a nun. Not a problem I hope."It is not a widely known fact that I am not the first member of my family to bring down controversy on my poor belegured family. I am just the latest.. But the bad thing about being a Good Boy is that any indiscresion, no matter how small, just seems to get headlines, or at least a deluge of text messages. Anyway I used to have an uncle Patrick, a great big calm happy giant of a man, who loved me and my sister to bits. He was a male nurse, and also a monk, believe it or not. Monks, as you know are the male equivalent of nuns, a holy order who live chastely, not not always seperately from nuns. The monestry and the nunnery ofter were part of the same building, and shared laundry facilities. On one memorable occasion a nun mistook his laundry for clothes destined for a jumble sale, underpants and all. She offered to buy him a whole new set as apology and the story made the local papers. Really But Pat was getting tired of the order, I think he felt life was passing him by, and he was really close with a nun who worked at the hospital. Away from the order, at work in the hospital, their relationship was a lot easier, and naturally a lot closer. As nature intended, they fell in love.Now all they had to do was tell everybody.....To get a dispensation from the order you have to write a letter to the head man himself, at the time it was Pope John Paul II. How the hell do you start a letter like that?I can imagine him sitting down to breakfast, opening his mail when he comes across this little gem."Your esteemed Holiness, Brace yourself.Right, I have been doing the holy order thing for over a decade now and it really isn't my bag anymore, I want a life, family, kids, mortgage, the works. I want friday nights out with my mates, days in the park, christenings and confirmation parties to organise.So I know you are dying to know who the lucky lady is... wellIt is Sister Margaret."At this point I can imagine the sistine chapel was pebble dashed with half eaten cornflakes. I don't know what Latin is for Fucking Hell, but that would be the day to learn it.Nonetheless after informing the rather stunned relatives including one flabbergasted nephew (me), we all had a big wedding in Liverpool. Pat and Margaret lived very happily for nine years until uncle Pat died when I was nineteen. Naturally I was distraught, I loved the old rascal, and he loved me like his own son. He taught me how to fish, how to drive and gave me a great love of all things Irish.Never in my life will we see the likes of him again.

A story to scare your mates/kids with..

2007-11-26T14:06:00.000-08:00

Here is a scary story to hold people spell bound. Please adjust facts, names and places as you wish for extra authenticity, abridge the parts you don't need and make it your own.

A few years ago me and my mate Dave were driving back from Manchester to Wakefield one cold foggy Sunday night in January. We had been watching Leeds get beat as usual that day and we were on our way back in Dave's big white transit van. It had been freezing and foggy all day and as we rose over the foothills of the Pennines the wraith-like mist swallowed the road ahead. Out of nowhere came an endless trail of red lights indicating what is known to the Great British motorist as a sodding great tail back. We joined the queue and inched our way along in the darkness, listening to the charts on the radio to keep our spirits up, and taking the mickey out of the latest X factor acts, as always.

After five minutes of that we came to a slip road which took us across the Pennines on an old road known as Snake path. We could sit in this tail back and go numb or we could take our chances on a bit of adventurous navigation that might just get us to our beds an hour earlier. Oh and Dave had his new sat nav that he wanted to try out. This bit of kit had cost him £300, and he reckoned it was worth every penny. I was too knackered to argue so off the road we went. Several cars ahead of us had taken the same option, so maybe it wasn't a bad idea.

Snake path is a trecherous road on it's best days so we took it really steady, minding the snake like twists and turns that gave the road it's name. The fog got thicker and thicker, even with the lights on high beam we could see barely twenty years ahead. The cars ahead of us became strung out further and further until we were left alone on this cold dark path, trying to squint through the fog.

We were brought to a screeching halt by something three feet high standing in the road. For a second it was stock still in the distance, then it moved it's head and went 'baaa'. Bloody sheep. A parp of the horn and off it went, unaware of how close it came to making us a collision statistic, and itself into a tasty kebab.

As you pass over the Pennines your radio tends to jump from station to station and go mental, and this occasion was no different. Chris bloody Moyles... some girl laughing.. classic fm.. some little girl laughing again.. I changed the channel.. and there was this little laugh again. Not a nice one, a really mean haha showed you kind of laugh. I turned the radio off, it wasn't improving my mood.

We passed a car parked up for the night. Why they parked it in the middle of the moors, I thought little of. I just wanted to get home. The fog lifted a little as we mounted a hump-backed bridge over a brook. Just as we did we came across a car in the middle of the road, parked diagnally. It's hazzard warning lights were blinking away into darkness and the passenger door was ajar.

Dave was a trained paramedic so he instinctively grabbed the green bag he kept in the space between the seats and got out to investigate. I was straight after him, grabbing a dirty blanket out of the back and my mobile out of my pocket. He poked the door open with his foot, and peered inside. It was empty, and cold. Frost had gathered on the inside of the windshield. We looked around and shouted at the tops of our voices. A ground frost had turned the ground white, and should have illuminated any foot prints away from the car, but there were none.

With a start I realised that I recognised the car, it had been two in front of us in the tail back. Dave thought I was mistaken but I recognised the stickers on the rear window. Neither of us could get phone reception on our mobile, which was no surprise. We decided to phone the police from the next phone box we came to. In the meantime we just wanted to get down off the moors. We followed the path, metre by metre, eyes on stalks. The sat nav indicated we were only twelve miles from the motorway, and a cup of granada services tea suddenly sounded very inviting. Then the bloody thing started to die, much to my annoyance. Dave was so angry that he tore it from it's cradle and threw it out the window. I cracked up laughing and it broke the tense atmosphere. We spent the next half hour howling and doing Brian Glover imitations. 'Beware't moon, lads!" I was still laughing when THUMP

My side, high up on the metal side panel THUMPTHUMPTHUMP, further back each time, as though we were driving past the source. Dave slammed on the brakes, and I looked back through the door mirror. Some figure was standing there, and this time it was way too tall to be a sheep. It was man sized.

Somebody was definately standing just off the road, about ten yards back from where we were now stopped. We didn't discuss anything, we just got out. I took the tire handle and slid it up my sleeve. I was taking no chances.

This guy had to be about forty but looked older, most of him was hidden under a donkey jacket, like the miners used to have. A huge hood hid most of his face, the lower half was illuminated by the red brake lights, which gave his unshaven visage a demonic appearance. He had dirty jeans and dirty boots, he had obviously been hiking across the fields. But that wasn't the strangest thing about him. At his feet was a long black bag, about five feet long in total with six handles on the edges. "Alright mate, where's tha going?" said Dave. The guy shook his head, and I wondered if he was deaf. "You need a lift?"

I shot a look at Dave to say 'are you mad?', he just looked back to say 'it's ok'. I was far from convinced. "Just gizza lift to't next town." The man had spoke. Mancunian accent, gravelly and deep. "Right, gerrin". Dave was already opening the rear doors to his van. Inside it was full of wood he was collecting for some stupid building project. It would have been a bonfire if I had any say in it. I got the other end of this guy's bag and lifted it. Christ, it was bloody heavy. "You moving house then?" I tried to make light of the situation. "What you got in here, the mother-in-law?"

He turned to face me square on in the red brake light. "None of your business." He hissed..
Christ, alright. I dumped my end of the bag in with him pushed up the far end of the van, never taking my eyes off him. I really had a bad feeling about this, and I gripped the tyre handle. I got back into the passenger side and off we went into the night.

I resumed my job of peering into the thick mist, trying to call out the turns, which came thick and fast. I checked back in the rear view mirror once and the guy was still there, though all I could see was his shadow.

I don't know what made me do it but I felt the hairs on the back of my neck flutter, and I started to turn my head. As I did so I heard the splintering of wood, loud and close then the rear doors flew open, filling the cabin with freezing air. Dave turned his head as he slammed on the brakes, and brought the van to it's third emergency stop in an hour. I reached up and switched on the internal light. The rear doors were definately open, and some of the wood was scattered about the back, and splintered. The guy was gone, he had bolted. We jumped out of the cabin and walked down each side, losing sight of each other for a second. I went round the back, my tire handle now gripped in my white knuckles. Dave appeared out of the gloom a long second later. He picked up a piece of wood as a weapon and stood back to back with me, peering into the darkness. We could see sod all, absolutely nothing. Nor could we hear anything, except each other's quickening breath. I have never been so terrified in my life.

"Should have bloody listened to you, cocker" said Dave with a nervous laugh, then he froze on the spot. I followed his gaze. In the back of the van, barely visable in the dark, and part buried under splintered wood was the man's bag.

Adrenaline pumped through me as I advanced towards it, my tire handle held high. Was the bag moving or was it my tired eyes in the dark? "Nick.." Dave sounded nervious, which was unheard of. He had seen it all in his day as a paramedic, all the horrors a saturday night in Leeds can throw at you. And yet now, I knew he was scared.

I put my hand on the zip and felt it loose in my hand. I opened it scarely an inch. My heart was beating in my chest fit to burst. I opened it further and further and reached in.

"What's in it?" Dave's voice was trembling.

I rounded on him, my face rough,my body stinking and my eyes glowing red, full of undue fury, the tyre handle held high as I advanced and in this gravelly mancunian accent I growled "NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS"

Anyway sleep well.

The Mystery of D.B. Cooper

2007-11-22T03:30:00.000-08:00

I read this true story in a trashy tabloid paperback years ago, so I may not be translating it right but here goes.

On Thanksgiving eve 1971 a flight to San Fransciso was boarding on a bright autumn morning. One by one the passengers made their way to their seats, anxious to get to where they were going to do what they do. But one man had a different agenda, for him today was most definately not business as usual. His passport named him as Mr D B Cooper.

In 1971 airport security in America was not too tight on internal flights. Palastinian terrorists were a middle eastern issue and nobody had even heard of Black September.

The first three hours of the flight went without hitch. Captain Mike Richards made his final approach into Denver, Colarado to refuel. Just as the plane was beginning nose down Cooper, or whoever he was, started to cough and retch. He got out of his seat, part doubled over and made his way down the aisle to the front of the plane where the bathrooms were located. He passed the hostess, who he nearly retched on, and she quickly dove out of his way. However instead of going into the toilets he opened the door to the flight deck, drawing a weapon as he went.

"Everybody stay calm. The aircraft has been highjacked. Nobody may leave." Words that send a shiver down any spine. But now the passengers of this flight were hearing them for real, not in a nightmare. The plane was under the control of a mysterious madman.

The announcement had been made shortly after the plane had taxied to a halt at Denver international. The usual airport vehicles, refueling trucks, baggage trucks and so on were well away from the plane. Instead patrol cars of the Denver sheriff's department screeched to a halt in a loose cordon around the plane. Bullets were checked, and shotguns were cocked and aimed. In those days counter-terrorism techniques left a lot to be desired. If anybody had actually shot the plane they could have blown them all sky high.

D B Cooper made his demands over the aircraft radio. He did not claim membership of any known groups, he seemed remarkably calm, and his accent was American. He said he wanted two million dollars in used notes and two parachutes delivered to the plane before he would let the hostages go.

After consulting with the District Attourney the Sheriff ordered the release of the money and had it delivered to the airport within the hour, along with the parachutes (but why two?).

The money arrived shortly after two a.m. Cooper then allowed the passengers and the hostesses to leave the plane. The flight crew had to stay on board. It was time for phase two.

Cooper then reached into his jacket and pulled out a very professional looking map with exact co-ordinates and flight time to a set destination. Furthermore, curiously, he insisted that the plane take off with the rear pressure door open. This lack of cabin pressure meant that the plane would be very heavy, would have to fly very low to avoid the crew blacking out through lack of oxygen in the air, and it would definately use more fuel.

A fuel truck arrived shortly and refuelled the plane. On the underside of the truck was a deputy sheriff who managed to get under the aircraft fuselage.

Cooper had left the pilots alone in the cockpit while he returned to the freezing cold cabin. They had debated various options. They could not call out as Cooper had now smashed their radio. They could use their oxygen masks and fly higher than he had instructed. This would cause his to pass out through lack of oxygen (known as hypoxia). They could try and tackle him, but he was armed with what appeared to be a pistol, so that wasn't a good idea. They could circle back to the airport but he probably had a compass on him so they would soon be found out. The high altitude idea seemed the best option.

The next thirty minutes of flight seemed like a lifetime. They flew over the rocky mountains at hair-raisingly low altitude, seeing white mountains appear out of the darkness time and again. They flew higher and higher till the mountains dissappeared from view. The flying time Cooper had instructed came and went. He had left no further instructions as to what they did next. The Captain, first officer and navigator drew lots and the navigator lost. He left his wallet with the pilot and went aft to deal or deal with the mysterious Mr Cooper. He opened the door, feeling a blast of freezing cold air hit him, and peered into the dimly lit cabin.

It was empty except for one ripped parachute and an empty sports bag.

His heart skipped a beat and he checked all the seats, nothing. He grabbed a window-smash hammer as a weapon and checked the small bathroom. Again, empty. The Galley too was empty. D B Cooper, the crazy bastard, must have jumped out of the plane with his ransom money.

"He's gone, Mike, he - he jumped I think." The navigators lungs heaved with the cold air. Captain Richards circled around, his co-pilot searching the dark air for a parachute. Nothing to see but blackness.

They altered course back towards the airport. The radio was unrepairable so Captain Richards flashed morse from his running lights C-L-E-A-R-1. Clear runway one.

The gathered police, national guard, who had turned up late looking for action, ground crew, police negotiators,T.V. crew and anybody else pulled back to a safe distance. The aircraft touched down without a hitch, and police cars raced to catch it as it taxied to a halt. Not that it did them any good as it took a further minute for a stair truck to arrive, by which time the navigator was standing in the doorway with his hands up.

In the privacy of the airport police station the sheriff took their statements. The map suggested that he had jumped in a heavily forested area of the colarado river. The hunt for the highjacker D B Cooper had swung in motion.

Over the next week the area was scoured. Sheriff's department, airport police, national guard, local mountain guides, volounteers, media, everybody was on the hunt. The possible drop zone consisted of over a hundred square miles of inaccessable woodland, craggy hills, unpassable creeks, and inhabited by wild animals.

The search turned up absolutely nothing. Then one day about a fortnight later an announcement was placed in the Denver Herald, supposedly from D.B. Cooper. It read 'I was forced into this action by an uncaring government, I needed the money to cure my illness, I wish no harm to anybody'. Very odd, and possibly a hoax or a red herring. A million dollars was placed on Cooper's head.

The F.B.I. was called in to deal with the case. Who was this man? Possibly a nutcase, but they never knew for sure. They simply had no leads. Whoever he was before this action he would have been a very law abiding and very clever man.

So who could have possibly have the skills to pull this off? Only the fire department's smoke jumpers had that kind of ability, and furthermore that kind of brass balls. Several were brought in for questioning but none were charged.

In the media opinion was divided by Cooper, some wanted him on death row, others had a grudging admiration for this audacious man. After all he had got away scot free with millions without harming a soul.

Or had he? Nearly a year later a woodland tracker was out hunting with his hounds when he noticed some tell-tale yellow tarpaulin in a tree. The straps had been cut and there was no body. Any foot prints would have long since washed away. And in those days D.N.A. profiling was two decades away.

On the other side of the mountain the following summer a family camping came across some used $20 bills on the bank of a stream. Further up they found ten more. The notes were examined by the F.B.I and found to be part of the ransom money. They were covered in silt and red clay mud which indicated that they had washed downstream from one of the Colarado tributaries.

The media intrested was renewed. D.B. Cooper - Where Are You? T-shirts were sold in Denver and the man was becoming a local folk hero. Local D.J.s dedicated songs to him. But in the end it all came to naught and the case on D.B. Cooper has remained open since 1970.

Italian Sausages and Chips

2007-11-22T03:17:00.000-08:00

This receipe is so simple I didn't even buy the book, I just memorised it!

You need four sausages, three large potatoes, one onion,olive oil, two garlic cloves, parsley, oregano, salt and black pepper.

Pre heat oven at 200c Take a baking tray and drizzle olive oil over the base, just a very thin coating.

Prick sausages and chop potatoes into large chips with the skins on. Place them all in the baking tray. Dice the onion and coarsely chop the garlic, and sprinkle both over the sauasages and chips.

Sprinkle a tablespoon of oregano, and one of parsley over the sausages and potatoes. Season with the salt and pepper. Drizzle again with olive oil.

Bake in the oven for 30 minutes or longer, occasionally checking the hardness of the chips with a small knife.

As soon as they are nice and soft in the middle, serve.

Enjoy

Nick

Genuine things a barman hears..

2007-11-22T03:01:00.000-08:00

"Jeysus, nobody goes in there cos it is always packed."

"I didn't know what anal sex was till I was thirteen, I thought it was a man and a woman rubbing their arses up and down each other."

"What happened when you became thirteen?"

"Oh I became an alter boy."

During a minute's silence for 9/11 "WHATS THE MINUTES SILENCE FOR NICK?"

"For all the dead of september 11th" Says I, trying to whisper.

"AH ROIGHT."

"Jeysus darling you're ugly enough to be my girlfriend. Don't worry luv, you're not fat enough!"
And they went home together..

The same guy the week earlier "Hi baby, you're good looking enough to be a model. For Evans."
He meant it as a compliment, he told me as I passed him an ice pack.

Me and Frank stood at the bar in a quiet period. "We buried the mother in law the other day." After a moment I replied: "Is she dead then?"
Frank looks at his watch and says "Aye probably."

When I hear more I will pass them on. I sometimes contribute to www.overhearedindublin.com
Some of the stuff on there is priceless!

Nick

Pride and Passion Cocktail

2007-11-21T06:49:00.001-08:00

Pride and Passion Cocktail

This is what I was making in the photo ;)

Add the peach schnapps, passion fruit syrup, cointreau, lime and cranberry juice to a shaker and shake well. Strain into a martini glass.

Drink and enjoy!

Regards

Nick

My life in pictures

2007-11-21T06:06:00.001-08:00

Me in a cocktail competition in 2003

Murder in Normanton!

2007-11-21T05:48:00.000-08:00

MURDER IN NORMANTON!
A True Story
Well guys and girls, cos it is just after the witching season I thought I would share with you the true story of the Cross Keys murder. This is a tale passed on from my grandmother to my father, and now I pass it on to you.
In 1954 a bus driver was making his usual route from Normanton to Featherstone through a small hamlet called Old Snydale. It was a dark miserable night when somebody standing in the middle of the road caught his headlights. It was a young man in strange period dress covered in dirt and blood, clearly bleeding from the neck and mouth. His eyes were full of horror. The driver slammed on his breaks, almost making his bus jackknife, and shut his eyes, waiting for the crunch of metal on bone. It didn't come. He got out and checked the front of the bus. Nothing. He took a deep breath and checked under it. Still nothing, and nobody was around, save for a dog howling in the distance.
The year was 1805 and two men were walking from a labouring job in Aberford to another in Wakefield. One was William Longthorne, a young man who lived clean and worked hard. His travelling companion was one William Mosey, a man of darker character who had laboured with Longthorne on the previous job. Now they had agreed to travel on to the next job together. In those days nobody had bank accounts so they had no option but to carry their wages about their person while they drifted from job to job.
Their route took them through the hamlet of Snydale on their way to Castleford. Longthorne's large purse jangled temptingly on his belt, and it never left Mosey's sight. He would bide his time and then strike. As night fell their route took them through a small wood, hidden from the sight of the people of Snydale. Mosey let Longthorne lead the way and pulled out his razor. This is the weapon of choice he had been sharpening all the previous day in preperation for the act he was about to carry out. He took two deep breaths, steeled himself, and struck.
The first Longthorne knew was a dirty hand cupping his mouth. The a cut on his neck, then a deep gouge on his windpipe. His mouth and throat filled with hot sticky liquid he knew could only be his own blood. He panicked and kicked out, trying to fight for his life. Mosey's foot hooked behind his knee making the victim fall backwards. In a second Mosey was on his, his eyes demonic, his face distorted with murderous rage. He slashed again and again with the razor and Longthorne's neck till the young man lie still.
He grabbed Longthorne's purse, and cut the cord with his bloody razor. He dragged Longthorne into a small stream and left him to drown. Then he vanished into the night.
Did the story end there? No, for Longthorne slowly regained a most painful conciousness. It is said that the cold water of the stream lowered his blood pressure and slowed the bleeding. Inch by inch, slowly and painfully he dragged himself out of the stream. In the distance he saw a glimmer of light coming from a house.
The house was Alsop's public house and here it's name enters murderous infamy. Longthorne dragged himself to the back door where a dog came to investigate the smell of sweat and blood, and started barking the alarm.
Guests of Alsop put aside their drinking vessels and dice and went to see what the fuss was about. The sight that met them haunted them to their deaths. Two men lifted Longthorne onto the kitchen table while one went to the house of the local doctor .
Longthorne could not talk, merely gurgle blood, so a chalk and slate was found for him to write. He managed only one word. Mosey. Seconds later he stiffened, his breathing increased, making horrible gurgling and sucking noises, before he breathed his last.
The constable of Normanton arrived on horseback within the hour and organised every man and dog he could find into a search party. But night had fallen and the trail had gone cold. The next day the search resumed at dawn and the early frost showed a set of footprints leading away from the murder site. A glimmer of sun reflected off something metal in the deep grass. It was a bloody razor. Nearby they found an empty purse and finally a set of crossed keys.
Mosey had vanished, he was not seen from that day to this. Rumour has it he hid far to the south of Yorkshire, to escape the hand of justice.
Longthorne was buried the morning after the murder in Normanton graveyard. His weathered tombstone I have seen with my own eyes, the only bit still clearly legible says 'murdered most foul'.
The bus driver was not the last person to see the ghost of William Longthorne. Alsop's house, now know as the Cross Keys of Old Snydale, has had it's share of thumps, bumps and noises in the night. Cries of pain have been heard in the woods near the murder sight and on the anniversary of the murder the people of old snydale have a wake in the ghosts honour.
Anyway sleep well.
Warmest regards

Nick

Limoncello Tirimisu

2007-11-21T05:33:00.000-08:00

Limoncello Tiramisu Current mood: creative Category: Food and Restaurants
Here's my simple little receipe for a light dessert.
You will need:
Two tubs of Mascapone cheese
One packet of sponge fingers
Two lemons
75ml of Limoncella (available in most supermarkets, it's the yellow spirit)
Firstly grate the rind of the lemons and leave it on a seperate plate. Then cut the lemons in half and juice them, making sure you filter out all the pips.
Take a large dish and then cut the sponges down the centre carefully so that they split in half. Use them to cover the base of the bowl.
Gently heat the lemon juice until it is just steaming and then drizzle it over the sponges.
Spoon the Mascapone cream into a mixing bowl and add the limoncello. Mix it with a fork, until the mixture goes smooth and a pale lemon colour.
Now, using the spoon and fork spoon it over the top of the sponges and flatten it with a spatula.
Sprinkle the lemon rind over the top and leave to set for about half an hour.
Eat and enjoy.
Regards

Nick