Here in the eastern bit of Sydney and more specifrically around Bondi we've started to experience the oncoming tide of the seasonal Irish/Brit ratsacker infestation. "Hit 'em high, hit 'em low, hit with the old elbow" doesn't quell what is a tidal force. Its gonna be bad this season because of The Ashes. The Barmy fucking Army are coming back and they are a right fucking bunch of pommy tourist bastards. Any national group on tour is best avoided, just look at what happens when a Contiki bus rumbles through Rome. The Caribineri lock and load and wield their machine guns with suitable menace when they that bus full of aussies and Kiwis rock into town. The Barmy Army is if anything, slightly more organised and more mature but more loud and obnoxious 'cos they know its the last hurrah of youth. After an Ashes tour its settle down with kids time so its no bends, straight on it and stay on it. The silly fuckers drink VB. Just shows you how fucked they really are. Now the problem is we don't have gun-toting crazy wogs in uniform like the Caribineri to scare the poms. The only gun toting wogs we have are too busy shooting up houses in the south western suburbs of Sydney or playing at being hitmen in places like Rushcutters Bay and Hornsby. Well, not really Hornsby, just sort of threw it in because I like that name. Horsnby. Sounds trustworthy, sort of solid. Anyways our lot are either doing those things or are already serving time for drug and weapons related offences. And the only uniforms they wear are taken straight off the shelf of Athletes Foot. So what to do about summer? Go to the beach in non peak hour periods, get used to stereo battles and make sure I'm well stocked in beer and whiskey. And maybe play a couple of away games. I just hope that Michael Clark gets adopted by England and they take him home with them. The dozey tosser.
Okay, fuck the spell check, straight to publish.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Sweet Whisky
Okay, this starts with whisky and ends with whisky. Last night after boozing up in grand style I decided to do a taste test to decide which is best, Jamesons or Bushmills. For the life of me I can't really remember which of the liquids came up trumps but I'll take a wild stab at this and go Jamesons. It was the last one I had and by jingies I'm still drooling 15 hours after the fact.
Backtrack a bit to a couple of week-ends ago when the old family home went up for auction. We smashed the reserve and did really fucking well so my bro and my sisters were very fucking pleased and I was so chuffed I went and bought a bottle of an old fave, Makers Mark. Its since disappeared. Lovely stuff. So last week-end was a public holiday week-end in Sydney and we ordered a big fuck-off rubbish skip for the old house and did some major trashing of the old contents. It was hard at times as my sis, my bro, my bro-in-law and I went through everything we hadn't previously dispersed. I'd grown up there and was still going there once a week until the furniture was taken by the Salvos, bless their Red Shield hearts. I found all sorts of crap under the house. My bro had this big sledge hammer and by fuck it was fun smnashing shit up. Really taking big hard swings and releasing all this balled up emotional angst. It was a hard day both physically and emotionally so on the way back to my shoebox I stopped off and bought a bottle of McKenna bourbon. Most of that has since disappeared. This fucking bourbon I buy doesn't last the fight.
So on my way home tonight I'm fixing to buy another bottle to go with beers to go with the Bathurst 1000. Fuck yeah! This year as always I'll be supporting Holden. What does Ford stand for? Found On Rubbish Dump. Backwards it means Driver Returning On Foot. Unfortunately for the blue boys they're running out of half decent pilots ever since Craig Lowndes and his homies went back to Holden. Fuck Ford anyway, go Holden!
Before I forget, props to Dr Yobbo for wanting to tease out the best testicle jokes, given that he's doing a Lance Armstrong over the next couple of days. Best wishes Doc, recover well! And we'll definitely crack on about it next time you're in town, down at The Rocks,
Did everyone know that Spy Nat has taken up Scientology? She's a funny one that chick.
Now its time to go and replenish the bourbon. Gotta love shopping. Hooroo!
Backtrack a bit to a couple of week-ends ago when the old family home went up for auction. We smashed the reserve and did really fucking well so my bro and my sisters were very fucking pleased and I was so chuffed I went and bought a bottle of an old fave, Makers Mark. Its since disappeared. Lovely stuff. So last week-end was a public holiday week-end in Sydney and we ordered a big fuck-off rubbish skip for the old house and did some major trashing of the old contents. It was hard at times as my sis, my bro, my bro-in-law and I went through everything we hadn't previously dispersed. I'd grown up there and was still going there once a week until the furniture was taken by the Salvos, bless their Red Shield hearts. I found all sorts of crap under the house. My bro had this big sledge hammer and by fuck it was fun smnashing shit up. Really taking big hard swings and releasing all this balled up emotional angst. It was a hard day both physically and emotionally so on the way back to my shoebox I stopped off and bought a bottle of McKenna bourbon. Most of that has since disappeared. This fucking bourbon I buy doesn't last the fight.
So on my way home tonight I'm fixing to buy another bottle to go with beers to go with the Bathurst 1000. Fuck yeah! This year as always I'll be supporting Holden. What does Ford stand for? Found On Rubbish Dump. Backwards it means Driver Returning On Foot. Unfortunately for the blue boys they're running out of half decent pilots ever since Craig Lowndes and his homies went back to Holden. Fuck Ford anyway, go Holden!
Before I forget, props to Dr Yobbo for wanting to tease out the best testicle jokes, given that he's doing a Lance Armstrong over the next couple of days. Best wishes Doc, recover well! And we'll definitely crack on about it next time you're in town, down at The Rocks,
Did everyone know that Spy Nat has taken up Scientology? She's a funny one that chick.
Now its time to go and replenish the bourbon. Gotta love shopping. Hooroo!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Burgering in Sydney
Remember that old Readers Digest stuff, I am Joe's Adenoid, I am Joe's Skeletal Disfigurement, I Am Joe's Hypothalamus, I am Joe's Squashed Testicles? You can't? Well, here's the etsts I put to my brain cells and liver.
Wednesday. You Am I played at the Oxford Art Factory with the gig being "Exile On Main Street" played from beginning to end. Featured guests were Venetta Fields (sang backing vocals on the original album), Tex Perkins, Nic Cetser (Jet), Adalita and others including some bloke who looked like Rob Schneider. Timmy Rogers rocked! The whole gig was a slammin' affair from beginning to end with Tex Perkins adding his Rock God act to the whole thing. Spotted in the audience was a Wiggle which begged the question were The Cockroaches gonna get up for a surprise special guest appearance? Nup. The beers flowed swiftly and we left the venue well satisfied. On the way home I had to stop in at the side bar of the Teagardens hotel for a quick bourbon settler.
Thursday. This was the day of the Russian Spy Invasion so I arranged to meet young Natski at the Metropolitan Hotel around 6.00. I arrived early hoping to catch up with the publican and his wife but they weren't in. I was hungover like a bastard, and a couple of boney schooeys later I received a call from the Russian Spy She was somewhere near Jersey Boys or something so I gave her further directions. She ended up down The Rocks almost at the Harbour Bridge and called again. After redirecting her I walked down to perform a rescue mission. Next call was from Natski and she was on teh roof bar of the pub and I was walking along George St looking for spies. As I walked back I saw her leaning over the railing of the Roof Bar, waving. We met up and had some drinks, catching up, shooting the breeze and marvelling at the wonders of electronic gaming. The smoking deck was in the poker machine area. Nifty huh? And no, I didn't gamble. Nat was jet lagged and I was topping up the fuel tanks from the night before and slowed right down. Yep, I admit I was probably struggling a bit.
On the way home I dropped in to the side bar of the Teagardens for a quick bourbon settler.
Friday. I was feeling fuzzy after a couple of days on the sauce but still up for another night. This time we met up at the Edinburgh Castle Hotel. I walked in to find Nat and Abe Frellman at the bar getting a round of drinks. Great timing, so we set in for a few settlers awaiting the arrival of Doc Yobbo. Unfortunately Mr Lermontov was unable to join us due to changed travel arrangements. We sat at an outside table for a while debating his likely arrival as he'd been off to Newtown the night before to have beers with some old friends. Abe went on a mission to do some internet/email/twitter searching to no avail. We had a final drink and headed off to Diethnes restaurant for some Greek chow. Just outside we ran into our fave Doc and ventured inside. The meal was fine, my roast lamb was suitably tender and mouth watering, the others had lamb stew (that right Abe?), a mixed platter for the Doc and Nat went for the Haloumi. We tried some god awful Greek beer before settling into a more local and palatable brew. We saw The.Best.Combover.Evahh! Man, it was classy in its ambition and FKN funny in its effect. The second funny bit was that at one stage they had the bloke's dunnies blocked by a chair and some bloke acting like a bouncer. There'd been some unpleasantness inside, unpleasantness on a large scale it seems, but the antics of the staff gave us some comedy gold.
Our resident Smallgoods Providore, the Hon. Abe Frellman took carte of the bill. What a man. Many thanks for that Abe, much appreciated. (Remember to email me the address to send that shirt.).
Then we went wandered off to a pub. It was Friday night, they had some loud music, beers poured in plastic cups and an unwelcoming atmosphere, as did the pub across the street which didn't want to let me in. We turfed that and cabbed it down to the Lord Nelson hotel which brews its own beers. Ahhh, yes. Nice choice Abe!
The Lord Nelson closed its doors and we scattered. On the way home I dropped into teh side bar of the Teagardens for a quick bourbon settler.
Saturday. A free day, no work, no commitments, sleep in. Yep, did that, some chores then got a beer call.
Some blokes get booty calls, I get beer calls. I answered this one, watched football on TV, shot the shit and on the way home stopped in at the side bar of the Teagardens for a quick bourbon settler.
Sunday. Had to make Avalon beach for lunch at the Starfish. Beers, bubbly, wine, beers and a walk around teh northend of Avalon to fling flowers in the ocean to remember my dad. Its where his ashes had been cast a few years ago. Noice.
On the way home I didn't stop in at the side bar of the Teagardens hotel for a quick bourbon settler.
Monday. Went to work and am now on my wayyfor a birthday drink, a steak and some red wine, most likely a shiraz. The beat goes on.
Tuesday will be nothing. Zilch, zero, blot. Wednesday we have a bar voucher to work through from a previous pub trivia win. Oh well, I should be fine by then
One more thing, I'm getting fucking pissed off with this persistent cold weather, Usually by now we'd have some warm days and mild nights but noooooo. Someone do a fucking sun dance please and get rid that crap Tasmanian weather which insists on hanging around, sort of like a stinking ratsacker who's camped on your lounge and doesn't like the concept of deodorant.
Fuck the spell check, this is going out live.
Nat, Abe, Doc Y, - it was really FKN tops meeting you and hopefully it won't be too long before it happens again. Burger get togethers FTW!
Wednesday. You Am I played at the Oxford Art Factory with the gig being "Exile On Main Street" played from beginning to end. Featured guests were Venetta Fields (sang backing vocals on the original album), Tex Perkins, Nic Cetser (Jet), Adalita and others including some bloke who looked like Rob Schneider. Timmy Rogers rocked! The whole gig was a slammin' affair from beginning to end with Tex Perkins adding his Rock God act to the whole thing. Spotted in the audience was a Wiggle which begged the question were The Cockroaches gonna get up for a surprise special guest appearance? Nup. The beers flowed swiftly and we left the venue well satisfied. On the way home I had to stop in at the side bar of the Teagardens hotel for a quick bourbon settler.
Thursday. This was the day of the Russian Spy Invasion so I arranged to meet young Natski at the Metropolitan Hotel around 6.00. I arrived early hoping to catch up with the publican and his wife but they weren't in. I was hungover like a bastard, and a couple of boney schooeys later I received a call from the Russian Spy She was somewhere near Jersey Boys or something so I gave her further directions. She ended up down The Rocks almost at the Harbour Bridge and called again. After redirecting her I walked down to perform a rescue mission. Next call was from Natski and she was on teh roof bar of the pub and I was walking along George St looking for spies. As I walked back I saw her leaning over the railing of the Roof Bar, waving. We met up and had some drinks, catching up, shooting the breeze and marvelling at the wonders of electronic gaming. The smoking deck was in the poker machine area. Nifty huh? And no, I didn't gamble. Nat was jet lagged and I was topping up the fuel tanks from the night before and slowed right down. Yep, I admit I was probably struggling a bit.
On the way home I dropped in to the side bar of the Teagardens for a quick bourbon settler.
Friday. I was feeling fuzzy after a couple of days on the sauce but still up for another night. This time we met up at the Edinburgh Castle Hotel. I walked in to find Nat and Abe Frellman at the bar getting a round of drinks. Great timing, so we set in for a few settlers awaiting the arrival of Doc Yobbo. Unfortunately Mr Lermontov was unable to join us due to changed travel arrangements. We sat at an outside table for a while debating his likely arrival as he'd been off to Newtown the night before to have beers with some old friends. Abe went on a mission to do some internet/email/twitter searching to no avail. We had a final drink and headed off to Diethnes restaurant for some Greek chow. Just outside we ran into our fave Doc and ventured inside. The meal was fine, my roast lamb was suitably tender and mouth watering, the others had lamb stew (that right Abe?), a mixed platter for the Doc and Nat went for the Haloumi. We tried some god awful Greek beer before settling into a more local and palatable brew. We saw The.Best.Combover.Evahh! Man, it was classy in its ambition and FKN funny in its effect. The second funny bit was that at one stage they had the bloke's dunnies blocked by a chair and some bloke acting like a bouncer. There'd been some unpleasantness inside, unpleasantness on a large scale it seems, but the antics of the staff gave us some comedy gold.
Our resident Smallgoods Providore, the Hon. Abe Frellman took carte of the bill. What a man. Many thanks for that Abe, much appreciated. (Remember to email me the address to send that shirt.).
Then we went wandered off to a pub. It was Friday night, they had some loud music, beers poured in plastic cups and an unwelcoming atmosphere, as did the pub across the street which didn't want to let me in. We turfed that and cabbed it down to the Lord Nelson hotel which brews its own beers. Ahhh, yes. Nice choice Abe!
The Lord Nelson closed its doors and we scattered. On the way home I dropped into teh side bar of the Teagardens for a quick bourbon settler.
Saturday. A free day, no work, no commitments, sleep in. Yep, did that, some chores then got a beer call.
Some blokes get booty calls, I get beer calls. I answered this one, watched football on TV, shot the shit and on the way home stopped in at the side bar of the Teagardens for a quick bourbon settler.
Sunday. Had to make Avalon beach for lunch at the Starfish. Beers, bubbly, wine, beers and a walk around teh northend of Avalon to fling flowers in the ocean to remember my dad. Its where his ashes had been cast a few years ago. Noice.
On the way home I didn't stop in at the side bar of the Teagardens hotel for a quick bourbon settler.
Monday. Went to work and am now on my wayyfor a birthday drink, a steak and some red wine, most likely a shiraz. The beat goes on.
Tuesday will be nothing. Zilch, zero, blot. Wednesday we have a bar voucher to work through from a previous pub trivia win. Oh well, I should be fine by then
One more thing, I'm getting fucking pissed off with this persistent cold weather, Usually by now we'd have some warm days and mild nights but noooooo. Someone do a fucking sun dance please and get rid that crap Tasmanian weather which insists on hanging around, sort of like a stinking ratsacker who's camped on your lounge and doesn't like the concept of deodorant.
Fuck the spell check, this is going out live.
Nat, Abe, Doc Y, - it was really FKN tops meeting you and hopefully it won't be too long before it happens again. Burger get togethers FTW!
Monday, September 13, 2010
This Week In Sydee
Two posts inside a week? I'm just down at a kwikee-mart with internet gear to ask those coming in later this week to pop in and confirm that we'll be going to a pub which serves food, for those wanting to eat. I have a couple of venues in mind - The Edinburgh Castle and The Metropolitan. The big thing for me being drinkiness and both pubs fit the bill, the Metro probably has the better steaks, the EC has beer in jugs if you're that way inclined and for Doc Y they have Uncle Ted on tap.
Nat - I'll let you know the Thursday venue tomorrow.
Wednesday night I'm going to You Am I's recreation of Exile On Main Street at the Oxford Art Factory starring guests such as Nic Cester (Jet), Tex Perkins and others. Should be tops as long as the tickets came through.
That's all for now, cop yez later.
Nat - I'll let you know the Thursday venue tomorrow.
Wednesday night I'm going to You Am I's recreation of Exile On Main Street at the Oxford Art Factory starring guests such as Nic Cester (Jet), Tex Perkins and others. Should be tops as long as the tickets came through.
That's all for now, cop yez later.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Slackness and Being
Well folks, I know I'm slack. Basically I'm fracked for getting into some blogs, commenting on others and doing fun stuff but that's all down to work computers. Its also because I'm a neglectful and lazy fucker whose motivation centres on having a laugh, a drink and farnarkelling around.
So what's happening? Doc Yobbo, Abe Frellman and maybe the Lermontovity will be catching up in my hometown of Sydee next week. We'll have a couple of beers, maybe even with each other and then see who's best at tweeting the results. Rules me out 'cos I don't be tweetin'.
Now that I've rediscovered this blog stuff I may even post something a tad more substantial. And ya gotta know that the motivation for this reanimation of Therbs on line is due to the aforementioned pissup. Hats off to Doc Y and Abe Frellman.
And Nat if you're lurking, hope you got my email.
Now if anyone wants to stir up Hav leave him be I just sent him an email, part of which took the piss out of his cricketingness and wonky deck.
Shouts out to those mentioned above and also to Yankee Dog whose page I visit but can't lodge comments, similarly with Moko, Nat Spy, Doc Y, Mr Barnes, Bangar, GBob, NBob, Jennicki, Big Bad Al, and a heap of others. If yez are in Sydney next Fridee come and have a beer with us. Should be fuckin' tops, ay!
That's it, I'm off to the boozer to practice for next week.
So what's happening? Doc Yobbo, Abe Frellman and maybe the Lermontovity will be catching up in my hometown of Sydee next week. We'll have a couple of beers, maybe even with each other and then see who's best at tweeting the results. Rules me out 'cos I don't be tweetin'.
Now that I've rediscovered this blog stuff I may even post something a tad more substantial. And ya gotta know that the motivation for this reanimation of Therbs on line is due to the aforementioned pissup. Hats off to Doc Y and Abe Frellman.
And Nat if you're lurking, hope you got my email.
Now if anyone wants to stir up Hav leave him be I just sent him an email, part of which took the piss out of his cricketingness and wonky deck.
Shouts out to those mentioned above and also to Yankee Dog whose page I visit but can't lodge comments, similarly with Moko, Nat Spy, Doc Y, Mr Barnes, Bangar, GBob, NBob, Jennicki, Big Bad Al, and a heap of others. If yez are in Sydney next Fridee come and have a beer with us. Should be fuckin' tops, ay!
That's it, I'm off to the boozer to practice for next week.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Catch Up, World Cup, Tax, Bicycles and Booze
I'llget the booze and catch upstuff over with first. Booze mainly because at JB'sgig in Sydney last Tuesday we started off at the 3 Weeds in Paddo, across the road from Ariel Books where the book gig played out. There was beer at the book gig! Fucking tops. Then we had beer with plates of grilled bits of meat at The Balkan. Then more beer at The Beauchamp Hotel back down the road. I finished with a large straight up Makers Mark and that was me done. It was a fine evening where I caught up with other Cheeseburger Gothic followers, namely Savo, AgeingGamer, Darkman and BondiBoy. I'd met Darkman once but not the others. Its funny how we managed to click at least at that superficial "hail fellow and well met" level. I've previously split beers with Lermontov, Nautilus, Chaz (and Mrs Chaz), JB, Unicorn (where the fuck has he gone?) and Bedes. It all ends up pretty well. On Tuesday it was also good to see the merge of Burgers and Tweeters. By the time JB puts out another book I don't think it will be groups of less than fifty coming along. Wouldn't surprise me if his gigs become unmanageable in terms of doing the smaller scale feed'n'pub happenings. That's what happens when someone's popularity starts hitting that next level.
Oh yeah, back at The Beauchamp Hotel I was when I realised it was the same pub in which David Ireland wrote "The Glass Canoe", his Miles Franklin Award winner about a bloke who drinks at a pub. I read it years ago and found it again back at my mum's place when we weredoing some cleaning out. Its a good read, giving what are now echoes of a late 60's-70's life in a semi-industrial suburb of a big city in Oz. Its mainly a series of vignettes but warms up to some good narrative. And a lot of it happens in a pub which to my mind is sheer fucking genius. Mind you The Beachamp these days is not really a pub having been well and truly renovated to cope with the pink dollar then more recently the boom of the Noughties.
World Cup. Fuck it was a poor one. Vuvufuckenzelas are The. Worst. Things. Evvaahh! Santo Sam and Ed however were pure gold. I seriously want the DVD to come out. Les and Foz were fucked. They stink, big time. They are so fucking insular it ain't funny. I watched five minutes of the arseclowns before giving up on them.
Bicycles. Tour de France. Fuck it annoys me. Its that thing of yeah, I'll watch a half hour and then go to bed. Fucking bullshit. End up watching a couple of hours and getting in a nice warm fug in front of the heater with a glass of something tasty by my right arm and daydreams of sick leave running through my mind. So Cadel has the yellow guernsey today and this is his Big Chance. It could be Cadel's Year.
Those fucking cobblestone bits early on were a laugh. Well, I laughed anyways, especially when a large part of the Peloton went arse over tit. You just gotta laugh at cyclists falling over and then wanting to go the biff. Must be roid rage.
Tax. Did it in record time. Took me one hour to download it, fill it out on line and send it back via the interwbez to Mr Tax Refund Man. Did it just now as a matter of fact in this interwebz cafe. If Mr Tax doesn't argue with my reasonable deductions then its whoopee time! Cigars and single malt plus a new bit of sound gear for the car. And maybe some new shoes. Really, just threw that in for any chicks who may drop in. Its really about the whisky and cigars and maybe DVDs of the Cricket World Cups back in Seth Efrika (2003 when Punter went ballistic) and the West Indies (2007 when Haydos went crazy and Bob Woolmer tragically died of a heart attack in his hotel room). Maybe. But its really about the whisky and cigars, hopefully in time to celebrate Cadel getting the winner'scheque in Paris.
Speaking of drinks, I'll be on me way now.
Oh yeah, back at The Beauchamp Hotel I was when I realised it was the same pub in which David Ireland wrote "The Glass Canoe", his Miles Franklin Award winner about a bloke who drinks at a pub. I read it years ago and found it again back at my mum's place when we weredoing some cleaning out. Its a good read, giving what are now echoes of a late 60's-70's life in a semi-industrial suburb of a big city in Oz. Its mainly a series of vignettes but warms up to some good narrative. And a lot of it happens in a pub which to my mind is sheer fucking genius. Mind you The Beachamp these days is not really a pub having been well and truly renovated to cope with the pink dollar then more recently the boom of the Noughties.
World Cup. Fuck it was a poor one. Vuvufuckenzelas are The. Worst. Things. Evvaahh! Santo Sam and Ed however were pure gold. I seriously want the DVD to come out. Les and Foz were fucked. They stink, big time. They are so fucking insular it ain't funny. I watched five minutes of the arseclowns before giving up on them.
Bicycles. Tour de France. Fuck it annoys me. Its that thing of yeah, I'll watch a half hour and then go to bed. Fucking bullshit. End up watching a couple of hours and getting in a nice warm fug in front of the heater with a glass of something tasty by my right arm and daydreams of sick leave running through my mind. So Cadel has the yellow guernsey today and this is his Big Chance. It could be Cadel's Year.
Those fucking cobblestone bits early on were a laugh. Well, I laughed anyways, especially when a large part of the Peloton went arse over tit. You just gotta laugh at cyclists falling over and then wanting to go the biff. Must be roid rage.
Tax. Did it in record time. Took me one hour to download it, fill it out on line and send it back via the interwbez to Mr Tax Refund Man. Did it just now as a matter of fact in this interwebz cafe. If Mr Tax doesn't argue with my reasonable deductions then its whoopee time! Cigars and single malt plus a new bit of sound gear for the car. And maybe some new shoes. Really, just threw that in for any chicks who may drop in. Its really about the whisky and cigars and maybe DVDs of the Cricket World Cups back in Seth Efrika (2003 when Punter went ballistic) and the West Indies (2007 when Haydos went crazy and Bob Woolmer tragically died of a heart attack in his hotel room). Maybe. But its really about the whisky and cigars, hopefully in time to celebrate Cadel getting the winner'scheque in Paris.
Speaking of drinks, I'll be on me way now.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Ariel Gig
If anyone's going to JB's Ariel gig on Tuesday next week the plan is to meet at the 3 Weeds (Rose Shamrock and Thistle - the Paddo one, not the Balmain one). I'll be there around 6.00, depending on bus times from the CBD most likely watching whatever sport they have on the plasma. I'll be the one booing either Manly, Collingwood or Germany, depending on what's showing. Ariel Bookshop is just across the road from The Weeds and JB's gig goes from 7.00 until 8.00. No need to book a seat, just show up. We will however need to book The Balkan for the post gig feed and I'll need numbers asap. The Balkan is this Croatian grill restaurant where you get chunks of meat, cooked Balkan style. They also do a seafood grill which is very tasty. My advice is to skip lunch that day.
And remember that its Dry July so no drinkees 'nkay? Yeah, right. Poor joke I know but if you do get all self righteous about giving up the sauce for no other reason than some c-list git is trying to get numbers for their wanking attempt to expand their fading celebritiness then you can buy me drinks. Lots of them 'cos I'm the best fucking charity ever conceived.
Doc Yobbo has done a good job on this nonsense here.
Cheers!
And remember that its Dry July so no drinkees 'nkay? Yeah, right. Poor joke I know but if you do get all self righteous about giving up the sauce for no other reason than some c-list git is trying to get numbers for their wanking attempt to expand their fading celebritiness then you can buy me drinks. Lots of them 'cos I'm the best fucking charity ever conceived.
Doc Yobbo has done a good job on this nonsense here.
Cheers!
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