Archive for March 2009
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEP BEEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
It is the familiar sound of a text message.
At the thankfully unfamiliar time of 7:15am.
“Please can you bleep out all my swearing? Please?” asks Fat Jim in the message itself.
It is the morning after the night before, and after spending thirty minutes dropping the C-bomb like a seven year-old who has just learnt his shocking first swear word, Fat Jim is remorseful.
“No.” is my swift response.
It is important that people know what he is like. It is all well and good people thinking he is funny, but then they don’t have to welcome him into their home after two bottles of red wine.
“Please take out the swearing. Please please please. I have a hangover.” he continues in his reply.
Making him beg whilst suffering a hangover creates an entertaining mental picture, but in reality it is too late. The podcast had gone on-line during the night and many iTunes users had already downloaded it. I would not be making any edits.
“People are going to think I am a complete tit.” he concludes.
It is possibly the most insightful comment he has made in all the years I have known him.
Podcast 23 is here and already I am regretting my decision to ask Fat Jim to stand in for Cliff during his holiday.
We hardly touched the news, completely skipped ‘On This Day In History’, and I was forced to let Fat Jim record his own jingle. It was a bit like trying to get an ASBO-wielding ape to sit still and be good for half an hour.
The fact that he drank nearly two bottles of red wine during the recording should give you a clue to its shambolic nature.
I can only apologise, and say we will try harder in future.
It is finally here!
Today, you can log in to Twitter and post your bad jokes adding the phrase ‘#badgag’ at the end. This hashtag will let other people, including non-twitterers, follow the day’s gags as they appear.
If you don’t use Twitter, you can use the search function to read any joke posted that adds the #badgag hashtag. Click here to see what I mean.
It will refresh automatically giving you a stream of bad gags throughout the day. If this goes badly, that link will take you to about 20 of my jokes, and nothing else. If it goes well, then you can expect to see bad jokes from the finest minds of the world’s Internet users.
In the unlikely event that you see any good jokes, feel free to re-tweet them.
Table below should show a rolling feed of the day’s gags
I have discovered this brilliant thing on the Internet called Twitter. It is a bit like text messaging, but to everyone on the Internet. You should really go and have a look, it is going to be massive when everyone else finds out about it. I am on it here. I have got over 160 followers now, which makes me probably the most popular person on there.
I was chatting to the excellent Scaryduck on it yesterday about a magnificent penguin joke he had told, when he came up with a most excellent idea.
Bad Gag Monday.
So, this Monday, 23rd March 2009, Twitter will be the official home of the Bad Gag. The good news is that all the jokes will have to be mercifully short, so it won’t take much effort to read them, or in fact write them.
Which is where you come in.
We’ve all written or told jokes worthy of a loud groan. As hard as it is to believe, I have too. But now we have somewhere to put them.
On Monday, you can log in to Twitter and post your bad jokes adding the phrase ‘#badgag’ at the end. This hashtag will let other people, including non-twitterers, follow the days gags as they appear. I must have at least 20 ready to go that I will release during the day.
If you don’t use Twitter, you can use the search function to read any joke that adds the #badgag hashtag. Click here to see what I mean. It will refresh automatically giving you a stream of bad gags throughout the day. If this goes badly, that link will take you to about 20 of my jokes, and nothing else. If it goes well, then you can expect to see bad jokes from the finest minds of the world’s Internet users.
If you are wondering what constitutes a bad gag, this is one I will be posting on Monday:
“I’ve got this mate who keep putting laxatives in my drinks. With friends like that, who needs enemas.”
B’dum tsh.
So get thinking. Monday is closer than you think…
The first, and quite possibly last, alcohol-laden podcast hits your Internets as Cliff and I enjoy the last few hours of Saint Patrick’s Day whilst chatting into microphones about stuff in the news.
There’s Josef Fritzl, the Pope, and my seemingly unwarranted hatred of pandas. I’m not sure what else is in there as I’m currently enjoying my fourth Guinness and I simply can’t remember. It is probably a bit waffly though.
Have a listen. I will have to in the morning, just to make sure I’ve not said anything too slanderous. Though I’m already pretty sure the Pope is going to be pissed when he hears it.
iTunes users can subscribe by clicking here or you can listen to the podcast by pressing the play button below. Clever people can subscribe in their player of choice with the feed which is here.
Twitter updates and sneakily-taken photos from during the show can be found if you follow us here.
Or, you could join our Facebook group here and drop us an email at podcastREMOVE_THIS_BIT@iamlivid.com.
This morning, struck by the sunshine and the bathroom scales’ most recent verdict, I decided to go for a run.
I used to go running at least once a week, which combined with playing football and reasonably regular visits to the gym, kept me in shape.
But the scales have been telling me something very different recently. I am currently just over a stone heavier than I was a year ago. I blame the event of my twenty-fourteenth year. And the fact I haven’t played ninety minutes since October. And I don’t go to the gym very often at all anymore. And Tesco giving me vouchers for my favourite biscuits all the time.
So this morning I decided to go for a run.
There is a short route from my flat which takes me a short way into Windsor Great Park and lets me run back towards the castle. It is scenic, and just over two miles. I would take this route when I was in a hurry, didn’t have time to exercise properly, or had eaten a big meal fairly recently. It is a 16/17 minute route, maybe 18 if I’m feeling sluggish.
When I’m fit.
This morning it took me 24 minutes. And I had to stop to catch my breath.
Twice.
You have no idea how unhappy this makes me.
I now sort of understand why fat people do not exercise. It is a fucking god-awful experience when you are not fit. It is actually painful. Almost half a hour after getting home I was still wheezing.
The new regime starts here.
And I’m sorry Tesco, you can send me all the clubcard vouchers you like, but no more chocolate cookies for me.
At 21 the podcast could run for office, but instead it chooses to spend thirty minutes in your ears discussing Comic Relief, criminal chimps, and how I nearly won a free phone from a cold caller. Sort of.
It’s worth listening just to hear Cliff’s take on the job of a tabloid sub-editor in 1702.
As always iTunes users can subscribe by clicking here or you can listen to the podcast by pressing the play button below. Clever people can subscribe in their player of choice with the feed which is here.
Twitter updates and sneakily-taken photos from during the show can be found if you follow us here.
Or, you could join our Facebook group here and drop us an email at podcastREMOVE_THIS_BIT@iamlivid.com.
This week has been a little bit busy, I had a few posts in mind, one including a visit to the post office, which is always worthy of a few hundred words.
But now I’m thinking I might just talk about it on the podcast tonight as it’s a lot less effort, and I can then spend my lunch hour eating and reading the papers instead of typing it up on here.
I am officially a lazy bastard now, aren’t I?
No tags
This week the podcast reaches it’s twenties, and on such an occasion we attempt to reach a new level of maturity as Cliff and I discuss the best way to disguise a fart, a 28 year old Russian’s perfect death, we create a formula which allows you to mock every single profession in the world ever, whilst also divulging some never heard before secrets about our private lives. Or do we?
As always iTunes users can subscribe by clicking here or you can listen to the podcast by pressing the play button below. Clever people can subscribe in their player of choice with the feed which is here.
Twitter updates and sneakily-taken photos from during the show can be found if you follow us here.
Or, you could join our Facebook group here and drop us an email at podcastREMOVE_THIS_BIT@iamlivid.com.
If there is a social networking site we are NOT prostituting ourselves on, then we WANT TO BLOODY KNOW ABOUT IT!
My friend TOWTAL (The One Who Talks A Lot) is in hospital with a broken leg and ankle, sustained whilst playing football on Saturday.
This meant a trip to the hospital on Sunday to visit him after his ankle had been pinned.
I don’t like hospitals. I never have. They are nothing like the television would have you believe, nothing at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the makers of Scrubs have never set foot in a real hospital.
Towtal was in a bed in a room with four others, he had no television, or even a bulb in his reading light, so time was passing very slowly. He is a member of Bupa, but he had not been able to reach them to sort out a private room as they are not available from Saturday lunchtime until Monday morning (if you pay for private medical care, please make sure you get sick during office hours).
Whilst I was there trying to take his mind off his injury by telling him about the run I had been on that morning, a lady came round with a menu.
This would be my first experience of hospital food. Even if it was vicarious in nature. The menu itself didn’t seem to bad, and certainly didn’t conjure images of prison food as I had imagined. I pointed out that some of the options looked almost as tasty as the delicious take-away that I would be having later that evening.
After a brief perusal, a frankly starving Towtal settled on Fish and Chips with strawberry trifle for dessert. A choice I was quite impressed with.
A short while later, it arrived.
I am not sure that words can truly do it justice, except to say that I now know why no-one ever gets fat in Hospital, and it appears the NHS has done a deal to procure the global stocks of square fish.
This photo has not been digitally enhanced in any way.
