Nikk Farr. A cross between Mad Max and The Kurgan from Highlander. Nick owned a Matt Black Ford Capri -i'm sure if you looked closely you could see the Book of the Apocolypse etched into the paint work. Nick had the terryfing skill of being able drive at 80MPH through the singletrack back lanes of Devon with a bottle of Manns Brown Ale in one hand whilst rolling a spliff with the other and overtaking a tractor.
What ever you do... don't get in that car!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Bomber Harris Returns
TWOC wasn't the first time i had a visit from Bomber Harris. Next time I saw him he was Detective Inspector Bomber Harris and he had a Lemmy from Motorhead type moustache. He now reminds me of D.I Burnside from The Bill.
In about '84 I was in bed about to struggle up and go to my crappy job when I suddenly hear an agressive pounding at my front door. I look out the window to see the newly promoted D.I Bomber Harris and another officer. Harris is telling me to"get down here now" rather aggressively.
I go down, open the door and the interogation begins. I am being accused of breaking in to my local; The Beer Engine. I remember well his interogation technique -guilty before presumed innocent. I felt like one of the Birmingham Six about to go down, about to crumble under the pressure and just say "yes it was me, i broke in and emptied the fruit machine" But no, its ludicrous, it wasn't me, I was in there drinking last night, i work there sometimes and I am good freinds with the Landlord. I may be a dumb teenager but I wouldn't piss for too long on my own doorstep.
Eventually Harris sees reason, and that I am not his guy. I make him take me too work as I am well late by now. He moves on to interogate most of my freinds and gets no where. Pete the landlord gave him a good bollocking, what a tosser.
In about '84 I was in bed about to struggle up and go to my crappy job when I suddenly hear an agressive pounding at my front door. I look out the window to see the newly promoted D.I Bomber Harris and another officer. Harris is telling me to"get down here now" rather aggressively.
I go down, open the door and the interogation begins. I am being accused of breaking in to my local; The Beer Engine. I remember well his interogation technique -guilty before presumed innocent. I felt like one of the Birmingham Six about to go down, about to crumble under the pressure and just say "yes it was me, i broke in and emptied the fruit machine" But no, its ludicrous, it wasn't me, I was in there drinking last night, i work there sometimes and I am good freinds with the Landlord. I may be a dumb teenager but I wouldn't piss for too long on my own doorstep.
Eventually Harris sees reason, and that I am not his guy. I make him take me too work as I am well late by now. He moves on to interogate most of my freinds and gets no where. Pete the landlord gave him a good bollocking, what a tosser.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
TWOC
First Court Appearance.
1983. Taking and Driving Without Owners Consent (TWOC). Totally pissed, owner left keys in car at petrol station. I drove off -managed 80mph just outside Credition Devon. Car bounced off kirb a few times but managed to keep it in a straight line and on the correct side of the road. Drove through back lanes of Devon for a little while and eventually a massive tree on top of a hedge jumped out and wrapped itself around the bonnet -car totaled. I walk home and go to bed -had a good nights sleep.
A week later Officer Bomber Harris knocks on my parents doors and busts my ass. It was a very inconvenient time as I was doing my hair in the bathroom. He lets me finish my hair though. I am taken to the Police Station -my mug shot is taken as are my finger prints.
Another week passes -I have to go see Mr Carey, the car owner, and apologise for totaling his car. I explain I was pissed and give him a cheque for £800. He is more than happy with my explanation and wishes me all the best.
A few more weeks pass and I am in court. The magistrate gives me a bollocking -fines me £400 and puts 8 points on my licence. I pay about £5 a week for eternity, this is a lot as I only make £25 per week -an eighth of the sticky is £16 so you get the picture. The press bench is empty, which is a relief, as at the time I worked for a company that installs car alarms .
Two weeks later I pass my driving test.
1983. Taking and Driving Without Owners Consent (TWOC). Totally pissed, owner left keys in car at petrol station. I drove off -managed 80mph just outside Credition Devon. Car bounced off kirb a few times but managed to keep it in a straight line and on the correct side of the road. Drove through back lanes of Devon for a little while and eventually a massive tree on top of a hedge jumped out and wrapped itself around the bonnet -car totaled. I walk home and go to bed -had a good nights sleep.
A week later Officer Bomber Harris knocks on my parents doors and busts my ass. It was a very inconvenient time as I was doing my hair in the bathroom. He lets me finish my hair though. I am taken to the Police Station -my mug shot is taken as are my finger prints.
Another week passes -I have to go see Mr Carey, the car owner, and apologise for totaling his car. I explain I was pissed and give him a cheque for £800. He is more than happy with my explanation and wishes me all the best.
A few more weeks pass and I am in court. The magistrate gives me a bollocking -fines me £400 and puts 8 points on my licence. I pay about £5 a week for eternity, this is a lot as I only make £25 per week -an eighth of the sticky is £16 so you get the picture. The press bench is empty, which is a relief, as at the time I worked for a company that installs car alarms .
Two weeks later I pass my driving test.
Virgin Galactic
I couldn't resist -it might get me a free flight, you never know! Any way here is a copy of the email I sent;
Dear VG
I just wanted to share with an idea I had for your first flight. Just for a second imagine the look on your customers faces when they return to earth only to find that all your ground crew have put on ape costumes carrying rifles and are mounted on large black stallions. Surely this would be the best practical joke ever?
King Regards
Giuliano Broccato
Dear VG
I just wanted to share with an idea I had for your first flight. Just for a second imagine the look on your customers faces when they return to earth only to find that all your ground crew have put on ape costumes carrying rifles and are mounted on large black stallions. Surely this would be the best practical joke ever?
King Regards
Giuliano Broccato
Friday, June 15, 2007
The Words of Cann Continued. The Hyslops
Robin Maxwell Hyslop was a Conservative Member of Parliament.
I can't remember when this first originated but I do know I was very stoned at the time. All I can remember is whilst being totally caned on the icky sticky black I witnessed Cann continuously running his fingers through his hair. When I inquired as to what he was doing he simply informed me he had the "Hyslops."
I can't remember when this first originated but I do know I was very stoned at the time. All I can remember is whilst being totally caned on the icky sticky black I witnessed Cann continuously running his fingers through his hair. When I inquired as to what he was doing he simply informed me he had the "Hyslops."
Thursday, May 10, 2007
A Shortcut to Mushrooms
Drugs, I've done a few. I have left reality behind and sampled temporary insanity on a few occasions. The brain is clearly not to be fucked with, holding on to reality when the effects of acid or too many magic mushrooms are pumping round your head is impossible to control. These drugs are way too powerful. I remember feelings and emotions getting magnified to a level too intense to bear, one minute far too happy and the next in the depths of depression, worry and paranoia. The ups and downs of micro manic depression took place within the blink of an eye. One one occasion, after too many mushrooms and in an uncontrollable state of paranoia, there was knock at the door, it was the police, I freaked. But of course this meant I had a reason to be paranoid, it wasn't the drugs after all. I also remember on this occasion the kitchen stretching off into infinity, which is pretty cool really. You're probably thinking; "what the fuck was he thinking? This sounds like hell!" Well there is a method to this madness. My first hallucinogenic trip took place as a teenager. A friend of mine at the time had a load of magic mushrooms, these I had to try. After taking shit loads I was disappointed to find nothing was happening, so we smoked a load of sticky black instead and I eventually went home stoned off my head to my parents. It was about four or five on a Saturday afternoon, I was watching Dickie Davis round off Sports Day with my Dad in the front room. Dad was in his chair, he's still there to this day, just like Davis's Moustache. I remember the boring patterned covering on Father's chair, the covering was a dull green with even duller horizontal and vertical corduroy outlines forming an irregular pattern of squares and rectangles. I glanced over at dad and it was then that to my amazement the crappy chair had suddenly come to life. The dull corduroy stripes were now bright red. Result. At this juncture I realised it was time to retreat to the confines of my then bedroom.
My parental home is a rather quaint thatched cottage in Devon. And as such this means that walls and ceilings are never even; covered in lumps, oak beams, and bumps; decorating is a pain. The place has character and seems to have a life of its own; a four hundred year old life. Shortly after entering my room and lying face up on my bed with my Furguson Tower System blasting Ritchie Blackmore's Difficult to Cure, I notice the room coming to life. First the paint on the ceiling starts to kind of shift and smudge, it moves up and down like it's breathing. Okay, now shit is happening, I glance over at the walls. The wallpaper in my room at the time was a simple brown flower outline pattern on a white background repeated in vertical fashion, so you could trace the same patern from top to bottom. What happened I will never forget. In the years that followed I tried repeatedly to get back to this moment, but it never happened, this was the basis for the method to my madness. From the ceiling the most amazing vibrant rainbow colours fell and uniformly filled the pattern on the wallpaper. They gushed from the ceiling like a waterfall of colour, ran all the way down the wall and disappeared in to the carpet, which by now was heaving.
By this time I am laughing hysterically, I've gone mental but I don't give a shit. Blackmore is sounding very strange but I'm loving it. I glance back up a the ceiling, my head hits the pillow. Why are the neon minature people doing a tango to Blackmore in my Attic? And more importantly where did that mountain range come from? You see there was a whole other world in the attic of our old cottage, a neon fantasy landscape where people made of light tangoed the night away to heavy metal. A world where uncharted neon capped mountains stretched off into an infinite distance and beacons of light stretched off uniformly into nowhere. And the wallpaper, the psychedelic wallpaper, perhaps the world in my attic is feeding the wallpaper with colour? Yes that's it. The colour is now saturating the carpet, the hysteria continues, the colour moves closer to my bed. Where is it going? It gets even closer, it's going to envelop the bed and then me and I will become part of this new world, I will be absorbed into this new dimension. I will be neon, i will tango with my new neon friends to Blackmore. The colour pours like a torrent from the ceiling, soaks the carpet and encases my bed touches my hands and starts to retreat. The bed sheets return to their cream colour, the colour in the carpet washes out. The waterfall of colour slowly dries up, the mountains crumble away, the lights fade and the dancers slowly vanish. My hysteria falls away and I find myself back in my cottage bedroom, I go downstairs, Dad is still in his chair, I watch Bullseye with him. And I never return to that special place.
My parental home is a rather quaint thatched cottage in Devon. And as such this means that walls and ceilings are never even; covered in lumps, oak beams, and bumps; decorating is a pain. The place has character and seems to have a life of its own; a four hundred year old life. Shortly after entering my room and lying face up on my bed with my Furguson Tower System blasting Ritchie Blackmore's Difficult to Cure, I notice the room coming to life. First the paint on the ceiling starts to kind of shift and smudge, it moves up and down like it's breathing. Okay, now shit is happening, I glance over at the walls. The wallpaper in my room at the time was a simple brown flower outline pattern on a white background repeated in vertical fashion, so you could trace the same patern from top to bottom. What happened I will never forget. In the years that followed I tried repeatedly to get back to this moment, but it never happened, this was the basis for the method to my madness. From the ceiling the most amazing vibrant rainbow colours fell and uniformly filled the pattern on the wallpaper. They gushed from the ceiling like a waterfall of colour, ran all the way down the wall and disappeared in to the carpet, which by now was heaving.
By this time I am laughing hysterically, I've gone mental but I don't give a shit. Blackmore is sounding very strange but I'm loving it. I glance back up a the ceiling, my head hits the pillow. Why are the neon minature people doing a tango to Blackmore in my Attic? And more importantly where did that mountain range come from? You see there was a whole other world in the attic of our old cottage, a neon fantasy landscape where people made of light tangoed the night away to heavy metal. A world where uncharted neon capped mountains stretched off into an infinite distance and beacons of light stretched off uniformly into nowhere. And the wallpaper, the psychedelic wallpaper, perhaps the world in my attic is feeding the wallpaper with colour? Yes that's it. The colour is now saturating the carpet, the hysteria continues, the colour moves closer to my bed. Where is it going? It gets even closer, it's going to envelop the bed and then me and I will become part of this new world, I will be absorbed into this new dimension. I will be neon, i will tango with my new neon friends to Blackmore. The colour pours like a torrent from the ceiling, soaks the carpet and encases my bed touches my hands and starts to retreat. The bed sheets return to their cream colour, the colour in the carpet washes out. The waterfall of colour slowly dries up, the mountains crumble away, the lights fade and the dancers slowly vanish. My hysteria falls away and I find myself back in my cottage bedroom, I go downstairs, Dad is still in his chair, I watch Bullseye with him. And I never return to that special place.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
The words of James Cann
James Cann now married living in a small village with his family in Devon will undoubtedly be responsible for future entries in the Oxford English Dictionary. Words and phrases coined by Cann in the late seventies through to the mid-nineties took resonance with the Devonshire locals and his peers. His self made lifestyle led to a distinct distaste for "wasters" and those not "pulling their weight." This coupled with an emotional restraint and a quirky but harmless temper led to an artistic Tourette like ability to insult individuals at the core of their being without them knowing or having a clue as the severity of the insult.
Words and Phrases
Wondering Nomad Lapp.
This lies at the core of the Cann philosophy that states that we are all responsible for ourselves and need little help from others. Cann firmly held the view that anyone on unemployment benefit is a twat and should get a job. This phrase refers to those whom are somewhat lost in life, having no motivation, drive or commitment -i.e. a hippy.
Use; "that boy is a bloody wondering nomad lap -he'll make no good of himself"
Pakes
This is a very difficult word spell, the spelling of which has been a subject of contention for a number of years. Even Cann who created this word in collusion with his close friend Mark Styles in the early eighties has no idea has to spell it. However a number of scholars have recently decided on the above connotation. On pronunciation the "a" in "pakes" is somewhat intonated.
Use; "oh you fucking pakes, what have you done?"
Winky
A "winky" is derivation of "wanker" though the meaning holds no relationship betwen the two words and such a somewhat less offensive word is created. Winky may refer to a weakness in the context of camp or a lacking physical strength or unmanly presence. This word is usually thrown at those who appear weak, not confident and annoying or arrogant with it.
Use; "he's a bit of a winky he is" or "you winky twat"
Winkyshatstain
This takes "winky" implants a greater insult through use of more common swear word derivation. With this clever insult Cann was able not only to clearly indicate his dislike for weakness and lack of Independence in people, but also confuse individuals by implanting the thought in the recipients mind, which went something like this;
"mmm..shatstain? what is that? Shit -is that what he means? But surely shit is not that effective when it comes to staining? Did that bastard call me a shit stain? no, can't be, shit does not stain...does shit stain?"
And so forth. This invariably leaves the subconscious of the of the insulted in a confused, fragile, unsure and damaged state.
Words and Phrases
Wondering Nomad Lapp.
This lies at the core of the Cann philosophy that states that we are all responsible for ourselves and need little help from others. Cann firmly held the view that anyone on unemployment benefit is a twat and should get a job. This phrase refers to those whom are somewhat lost in life, having no motivation, drive or commitment -i.e. a hippy.
Use; "that boy is a bloody wondering nomad lap -he'll make no good of himself"
Pakes
This is a very difficult word spell, the spelling of which has been a subject of contention for a number of years. Even Cann who created this word in collusion with his close friend Mark Styles in the early eighties has no idea has to spell it. However a number of scholars have recently decided on the above connotation. On pronunciation the "a" in "pakes" is somewhat intonated.
Use; "oh you fucking pakes, what have you done?"
Winky
A "winky" is derivation of "wanker" though the meaning holds no relationship betwen the two words and such a somewhat less offensive word is created. Winky may refer to a weakness in the context of camp or a lacking physical strength or unmanly presence. This word is usually thrown at those who appear weak, not confident and annoying or arrogant with it.
Use; "he's a bit of a winky he is" or "you winky twat"
Winkyshatstain
This takes "winky" implants a greater insult through use of more common swear word derivation. With this clever insult Cann was able not only to clearly indicate his dislike for weakness and lack of Independence in people, but also confuse individuals by implanting the thought in the recipients mind, which went something like this;
"mmm..shatstain? what is that? Shit -is that what he means? But surely shit is not that effective when it comes to staining? Did that bastard call me a shit stain? no, can't be, shit does not stain...does shit stain?"
And so forth. This invariably leaves the subconscious of the of the insulted in a confused, fragile, unsure and damaged state.
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