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» I'm your biggest Fan
My brother
Back when I was a youngster my eldest brother was my hero. He was so cool with his black clothes, crimped hair, eyeliner, skinny jeans and biker jacket. I looked up to him and emulated his taste in music, clothes and make-up. This led me to becoming a mini-goth and, having access to my brother's music collection, I became a huge fan of The Cure, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Cult, Sisters of Mercy etc.
As I was still too young to go to gigs I used to stay up late when Drew went out, eagerly awaiting his return so I could question him and try to get an idea of what it was like to see a live band (what songs did they play? how close did you get? did you get to meet them?). He'd always have great stories about the ingenious ways he'd find to blag his way in for free and get backstage to meet the band, and he would always come home with some kind of souvenir, a towel, a setlist, a plectrum, which I would take in my little hands and shiver in awe at the greatness of holding such a valued item that only hours before had been in the hands of the gods. I couldn't wait until I was old enough to start going to gigs.
Fast forward a few years and I was finally old enough (well, I was 15 but could easily pass for over 18 if I applied enough of the old warpaint) and one of my favourites, The Cure, were coming to play in the Glasgow Barrowlands. We lived about 20 miles from there and I knew I would never be allowed to go to the big smoke on my own so I begged and pleaded for my brother to take me. Thing was, it was sold out by the time I heard about it and we had no money for tickets even if we had known earlier but a minor detail like that wasn't going to stop us.
On the afternoon of the gig Drew and I jumped the train to Glasgow and made our way to the Barras to see if there was some way we could blag our way in with the roadies. There were already loads of people queueing outside and there were a lot of security around that hindered our attempts to sneak in through the back door. We asked quite a few roadies but it seems we weren't the first to ask and they were unable to help anyway, they were under strict instructions not to let in the riff raff. I was disappointed to say the least but Drew wasn't disheartened, we went and got a bottle of cider and hung around outside the venue waiting for a miracle.
Several hours later and almost opening time we wandered up and down the (by now round the block) queue asking if anyone had spare tickets and wanted to take pity on us but to no avail. At this point the tour bus pulled up outside the main door and a dozen huge security guards formed a guard of honour between the bus door and the venue, holding back the screaming fans who'd just realised they were about to get their first glimpse of Robert Smith in the flesh.
I was trying to squeeze through the crowd with Drew so I could lay my own eyes on my hero when I suddenly lost Drew. A bit panicked in the crushing mob, I frantically scanned the faces around me and then I spotted him. My jammy brother had somehow managed to push through the security straight into the path of Robert Smith. I was dumbstruck! How the hell did he manage that? Being the cool individual that he his, my bro put out his hand and said "Hi Mr Smith, my sister and I couldn't get tickets for the gig, don't suppose you could put us on your guest list?"
Robert Smith asked his name and reached into his coat pocket. He brought out an envelope which he autographed and handed to my brother before pushing him aside and entering the venue. When Drew finally made his way through the security and back to my side he opened the envelope.
Inside were 2 tickets for the gig.
Length? he was pretty short actually...
(Fri 17th Apr 2009, 5:02, More)
My brother
Back when I was a youngster my eldest brother was my hero. He was so cool with his black clothes, crimped hair, eyeliner, skinny jeans and biker jacket. I looked up to him and emulated his taste in music, clothes and make-up. This led me to becoming a mini-goth and, having access to my brother's music collection, I became a huge fan of The Cure, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Cult, Sisters of Mercy etc.
As I was still too young to go to gigs I used to stay up late when Drew went out, eagerly awaiting his return so I could question him and try to get an idea of what it was like to see a live band (what songs did they play? how close did you get? did you get to meet them?). He'd always have great stories about the ingenious ways he'd find to blag his way in for free and get backstage to meet the band, and he would always come home with some kind of souvenir, a towel, a setlist, a plectrum, which I would take in my little hands and shiver in awe at the greatness of holding such a valued item that only hours before had been in the hands of the gods. I couldn't wait until I was old enough to start going to gigs.
Fast forward a few years and I was finally old enough (well, I was 15 but could easily pass for over 18 if I applied enough of the old warpaint) and one of my favourites, The Cure, were coming to play in the Glasgow Barrowlands. We lived about 20 miles from there and I knew I would never be allowed to go to the big smoke on my own so I begged and pleaded for my brother to take me. Thing was, it was sold out by the time I heard about it and we had no money for tickets even if we had known earlier but a minor detail like that wasn't going to stop us.
On the afternoon of the gig Drew and I jumped the train to Glasgow and made our way to the Barras to see if there was some way we could blag our way in with the roadies. There were already loads of people queueing outside and there were a lot of security around that hindered our attempts to sneak in through the back door. We asked quite a few roadies but it seems we weren't the first to ask and they were unable to help anyway, they were under strict instructions not to let in the riff raff. I was disappointed to say the least but Drew wasn't disheartened, we went and got a bottle of cider and hung around outside the venue waiting for a miracle.
Several hours later and almost opening time we wandered up and down the (by now round the block) queue asking if anyone had spare tickets and wanted to take pity on us but to no avail. At this point the tour bus pulled up outside the main door and a dozen huge security guards formed a guard of honour between the bus door and the venue, holding back the screaming fans who'd just realised they were about to get their first glimpse of Robert Smith in the flesh.
I was trying to squeeze through the crowd with Drew so I could lay my own eyes on my hero when I suddenly lost Drew. A bit panicked in the crushing mob, I frantically scanned the faces around me and then I spotted him. My jammy brother had somehow managed to push through the security straight into the path of Robert Smith. I was dumbstruck! How the hell did he manage that? Being the cool individual that he his, my bro put out his hand and said "Hi Mr Smith, my sister and I couldn't get tickets for the gig, don't suppose you could put us on your guest list?"
Robert Smith asked his name and reached into his coat pocket. He brought out an envelope which he autographed and handed to my brother before pushing him aside and entering the venue. When Drew finally made his way through the security and back to my side he opened the envelope.
Inside were 2 tickets for the gig.
Length? he was pretty short actually...
(Fri 17th Apr 2009, 5:02, More)
» Customers from Hell
Health food nuts
I used to work in a busy, over-stocked health food store that sold everything from pointless placebos (sorry, health supplements) to body-building products to organic fruit and vegetables.
Now, as anyone who's ever worked in a health food store can tell you, those places are magnets for weird customers so I wasn't as surprised as I could have been when I encountered this lady, we regularly had to comply to random nonsensical requests from odd customers....
One day while serving a customer at the counter I saw out the corner of my eye another lady who looked like she was waiting to be served but was standing a good 8-10 feet behind the customer I was currently serving. I finished the first lady's transaction and turned to the other lady who waited until the first was well on her way out of the shop before approaching the counter. As I reached out to take her basket from her she pulled back and asked me if I wouldn't mind turning away from her and the food as I was ringing it through the checkout. Initially I thought this was some kind of ploy to allow her to shoplift but, on seeing the confused expression on my face, she enlightened me as to the reason I had to perform these mild contortions while serving her: you see, when food gets handled too much it apparently picks up 'energy' from every person it's been in contact with. This particular lady was extremely sensitive to such 'energies' and if she consumed said over-handled food it made her Very Sick Indeed. She informed me she had deliberately chosen the fruit and vegetables that were nearest the back of the display so as not to pick up the energy of all the other customers and staff who had walked past the fresh produce department (obviously not taking into account the number of people who had previously handled said food through farming, picking, packing and shipping). The weighing machine for the veggies was at a right angle to the counter which meant I had to actually stand with my back to the counter and twist my upper body just enough to grab stuff out of her basket, weigh it and enter it into the till, all the while being careful to never let it cross the front of my chest lest it should be contaminated with my energy. When anyone else came into the shop while I was serving her she'd run away from the counter until they had passed then rejoin me (at a safe distance) when the coast was clear. She wouldn't even hand me the money to pay for it directly, she had to put it on a piece of brown paper bag and slide it across the counter to me in case I accidentally touched her hand or she came into contact with the (swarming with energy) counter.
I was convinced for a while that I was being filmed for candid camera or something as all my colleagues had noticed what was happening and were standing just out of her line of sight taking the piss. It turns out they'd all had to deal with her at some point in the past and had deliberately left me as the only one on the tills when they saw her come in. Bastards!
(Tue 9th Sep 2008, 5:48, More)
Health food nuts
I used to work in a busy, over-stocked health food store that sold everything from pointless placebos (sorry, health supplements) to body-building products to organic fruit and vegetables.
Now, as anyone who's ever worked in a health food store can tell you, those places are magnets for weird customers so I wasn't as surprised as I could have been when I encountered this lady, we regularly had to comply to random nonsensical requests from odd customers....
One day while serving a customer at the counter I saw out the corner of my eye another lady who looked like she was waiting to be served but was standing a good 8-10 feet behind the customer I was currently serving. I finished the first lady's transaction and turned to the other lady who waited until the first was well on her way out of the shop before approaching the counter. As I reached out to take her basket from her she pulled back and asked me if I wouldn't mind turning away from her and the food as I was ringing it through the checkout. Initially I thought this was some kind of ploy to allow her to shoplift but, on seeing the confused expression on my face, she enlightened me as to the reason I had to perform these mild contortions while serving her: you see, when food gets handled too much it apparently picks up 'energy' from every person it's been in contact with. This particular lady was extremely sensitive to such 'energies' and if she consumed said over-handled food it made her Very Sick Indeed. She informed me she had deliberately chosen the fruit and vegetables that were nearest the back of the display so as not to pick up the energy of all the other customers and staff who had walked past the fresh produce department (obviously not taking into account the number of people who had previously handled said food through farming, picking, packing and shipping). The weighing machine for the veggies was at a right angle to the counter which meant I had to actually stand with my back to the counter and twist my upper body just enough to grab stuff out of her basket, weigh it and enter it into the till, all the while being careful to never let it cross the front of my chest lest it should be contaminated with my energy. When anyone else came into the shop while I was serving her she'd run away from the counter until they had passed then rejoin me (at a safe distance) when the coast was clear. She wouldn't even hand me the money to pay for it directly, she had to put it on a piece of brown paper bag and slide it across the counter to me in case I accidentally touched her hand or she came into contact with the (swarming with energy) counter.
I was convinced for a while that I was being filmed for candid camera or something as all my colleagues had noticed what was happening and were standing just out of her line of sight taking the piss. It turns out they'd all had to deal with her at some point in the past and had deliberately left me as the only one on the tills when they saw her come in. Bastards!
(Tue 9th Sep 2008, 5:48, More)
» Why I was late
Why do we have to be there on time?
I quite frankly can't understand why we have to be in the office by 9am on the dot anyway. Everyone's way too hung up on schedules. I mean, I know that in some jobs some people have to be there on time to drive buses or fly planes or open shops or whatever but I sit at a computer all day drawing pretty pictures. I have no responsibilities in the company so I see no critical need to be there right on the button. As long as I do my 7 and a half hours a day, what is there to complain about?
BTW I do actually turn up on time every day just to stop the w@nker of a boss from having a dig, just don't think I should have to.
My lame excuse for being late... I was abducted by aliens. It didn't work but at least I put a smile on the w@nker's face.
(Mon 2nd Jul 2007, 4:24, More)
Why do we have to be there on time?
I quite frankly can't understand why we have to be in the office by 9am on the dot anyway. Everyone's way too hung up on schedules. I mean, I know that in some jobs some people have to be there on time to drive buses or fly planes or open shops or whatever but I sit at a computer all day drawing pretty pictures. I have no responsibilities in the company so I see no critical need to be there right on the button. As long as I do my 7 and a half hours a day, what is there to complain about?
BTW I do actually turn up on time every day just to stop the w@nker of a boss from having a dig, just don't think I should have to.
My lame excuse for being late... I was abducted by aliens. It didn't work but at least I put a smile on the w@nker's face.
(Mon 2nd Jul 2007, 4:24, More)
» Festivals
Free festies are the best festies
I've never paid for a ticket to a festival yet have been to many. This is mainly due to my older brothers who made an art of getting into festivals and gigs for free for years by jumping the fence, getting on guest lists, blagging etc. So I followed the family tradition and soon was doing every festival and gig I could get away with. It always makes for a more exciting festival when you make the huge journey there and don't even know if you'll get through the gates.
One such occasion I went to T in the Park with a mate (who already had a ticket), convinced that I'd be able to get over the fence or something. I'd never been to that particular festival so didn't know the set-up but was sure I'd manage it.
On the Saturday morning my friend and I wandered the entire circumference of the festival trying at various point to scale the fence but to no avail. The first bands were starting up so I told my ticketed friend to get herself in and I'd meet her in there somehow. Long story a bit shorter, I met a band who gave me a (Glastonbury!) wristband that I got in with, met my friend and had a great day.
Leaving for the campsite that evening we were stopped by some wasted guy who needed help finding his car. We duly laughed at him pointing out that there were tens of thousands of cars spread among several car parks and the chances of finding his, in the dark, while drunk, were slim to none. He said he was the guitarist from Texas and if we helped him he'd give us access all areas guest passes. Well, I didn't know if he was bullshitting as I had no idea what the guitarist from Texas looked like (do you?) but the chance of getting a free pass to get in the next day was too good to miss so we set off on our hunt.
I still have no idea how but we found his car, he opened the boot and produced 2 of the most dodgy looking passes you've ever seen - Obviously made on his home computer, printed and laminated with a hole punched in the top, through which was threaded a black shoelace:
TEA (yes, TEA not T)
IN THE
PARK
ACCESS ALL AREAS
GUEST PASS
In Times New Roman font on plain white paper, approx. A5 size.
Naturally I was disappointed as this crap wouldn't get past the wily scrutiny of the gate staff but he insisted that he'd gotten through earlier on the same pass. He said it helps if you have a back-up story (like being the guitarist from Texas) to convince the gate staff so off we went, unconvinced.
Next morning we toddled off to the gate nervously sporting our dodgy passes, we walked up to the gate and waved our passes. The gate staff didn't blink and let us through but then there was a shout from security behind them "Oi! you can't go in with that!".
He came running over, took our opened cans of beer off us and chucked them in the bin.
(Thu 11th Jun 2009, 1:11, More)
Free festies are the best festies
I've never paid for a ticket to a festival yet have been to many. This is mainly due to my older brothers who made an art of getting into festivals and gigs for free for years by jumping the fence, getting on guest lists, blagging etc. So I followed the family tradition and soon was doing every festival and gig I could get away with. It always makes for a more exciting festival when you make the huge journey there and don't even know if you'll get through the gates.
One such occasion I went to T in the Park with a mate (who already had a ticket), convinced that I'd be able to get over the fence or something. I'd never been to that particular festival so didn't know the set-up but was sure I'd manage it.
On the Saturday morning my friend and I wandered the entire circumference of the festival trying at various point to scale the fence but to no avail. The first bands were starting up so I told my ticketed friend to get herself in and I'd meet her in there somehow. Long story a bit shorter, I met a band who gave me a (Glastonbury!) wristband that I got in with, met my friend and had a great day.
Leaving for the campsite that evening we were stopped by some wasted guy who needed help finding his car. We duly laughed at him pointing out that there were tens of thousands of cars spread among several car parks and the chances of finding his, in the dark, while drunk, were slim to none. He said he was the guitarist from Texas and if we helped him he'd give us access all areas guest passes. Well, I didn't know if he was bullshitting as I had no idea what the guitarist from Texas looked like (do you?) but the chance of getting a free pass to get in the next day was too good to miss so we set off on our hunt.
I still have no idea how but we found his car, he opened the boot and produced 2 of the most dodgy looking passes you've ever seen - Obviously made on his home computer, printed and laminated with a hole punched in the top, through which was threaded a black shoelace:
TEA (yes, TEA not T)
IN THE
PARK
ACCESS ALL AREAS
GUEST PASS
In Times New Roman font on plain white paper, approx. A5 size.
Naturally I was disappointed as this crap wouldn't get past the wily scrutiny of the gate staff but he insisted that he'd gotten through earlier on the same pass. He said it helps if you have a back-up story (like being the guitarist from Texas) to convince the gate staff so off we went, unconvinced.
Next morning we toddled off to the gate nervously sporting our dodgy passes, we walked up to the gate and waved our passes. The gate staff didn't blink and let us through but then there was a shout from security behind them "Oi! you can't go in with that!".
He came running over, took our opened cans of beer off us and chucked them in the bin.
(Thu 11th Jun 2009, 1:11, More)
» Amazing displays of ignorance
Radio waves
A guy I used to work with swore that they got the listening figures for radio and viewing figures for TV by measuring how many radio/TV waves were being sucked out of the air.
(Fri 19th Mar 2010, 2:59, More)
Radio waves
A guy I used to work with swore that they got the listening figures for radio and viewing figures for TV by measuring how many radio/TV waves were being sucked out of the air.
(Fri 19th Mar 2010, 2:59, More)