Treat every road user as if they are complete idiots… until they prove otherwise.

Henry Rollins

The weather could only be described as typical Manchester weather. It was grey, it was raining and it was blowing a gale through the dirty streets.

I’d parked my car in the car park that I’ve used the last few times when going to concerts at the M.E.N. Arena, had something to eat and wandered around the shops to kill a little time.

I must have wandered up and down Oxford Road hundreds of times when I was attending Manchester Polytechnic, as it was then known. Nothing much has changed, just a few more coffee shops than I recall. There is a little square, past the main building, opposite the students union. I remember having lectures in a room in one of the buildings. The memory is especially vivid as it was one of the few times that I’ve had to speak in front of a group of people. Not something that I enjoy at all.

I managed to find the prestigious Manchester Academy and had a little wander around the block. Really to try to find Manchester Academy 2, which I think is in the students union building. I joined the queue of people and waited the 45 minutes until the doors opened, walked in, sat in a great seat dead-centre on the second row and waited another hour until show-time.

At 8:30pm sharp the lights dimmed and the orchestra started to play a be-bop arrangement of Henry’s hit ‘Liar’. The curtains opened and twelve dancing girls, the famous ‘Henriettas’ no less, high-kicked their way across the stage. Each one of them had legs up to their face and were wearing pink sequinned swimsuits which glimmered in the myriad of lights. Pink ostrich feathers in their headbands made them look even taller. Each of them were blonde, blue-eyed and big breasted, no doubt hand-picked by Henry himself. As the song reached its climax there was a drum-roll, Mike The Tour Manager said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Manchester Academy, in association with SJM Concerts proudly presents, the king of spoken word himself, Mr. Henry Rollins.” Mike dragged out the ‘Henry Rollins’ bit, similar to the way wrestlers and boxers are announced before fights. The ‘Henriettas’ split into two groups, high-kicking all the while and a huge lighted staircase lifted up from beneath the stage. The orchestra started to play ‘Liar’, again, and the man himself appeared in a spotlight at the very top of the staircase. Henry was resplendent in his white tie and tails, carrying his top hat and his silver topped cane. His thick mane of jet black hair shimmering in the lights, his deep California suntan, no doubt regularly topped up at the home of his Hollywood pal, George Hamilton, his teeth the kind of brilliant white that can only be seen at the polar ice caps. Henry’s high kicks timed to perfection with those of his dancing girls as he descended the staircase. The entire audience were on their feet, just basking in the glow of this legendary performer. Seeing this outburst of adulation Henry did a little soft-shoe-shuffle on each step, which only excited his adoring fans even more. Upon finally reaching the stage Henry tossed his top-hat and cane to two of the ‘Henriettas’, grabbed the microphone in his left hand, wrapping its cord three times around his fingers and said, “Good evening”.

This is the third time that I’ve seen Henry’s spoken word shows. They are always consistently funny, thought provoking and value for money.

You can never really re-count what has been said to a third person, you can only try to hit upon the subjects covered :- Bush, New Orleans, Basic Instinct 2, The Royal Family, Big Day Out, Visiting The Wounded, Ijaz, Siberia, Vomit, Liar, Black Lesbian President. Henry relates his experiences but instead of reciting them verbatim he fleshes them out with vocal mannerisms, impersonations and body language. Similar, in a way, to one of his heroes Richard Pryor. He even received a round of applause for saying, “Birmingham” using the correct accent for that locale. The revelation that one of his ‘man-sacks’ swings lower than the other should be safely filed under the category :- A Little Too Much Information.

Henry is someone that I admire a lot. Hell I even have a picture of him on the wall of my living room. If he didn’t travel so extensively then he wouldn’t have any experiences to relate when it came to his spoken word shows. Me, I’m not a big fan of travelling. When the chairs were set-up in the Academy for the show tonight they use a specially calibrated stick so that the rows are a consistent distance apart. This is the distance from my ass to my knee minus 6 inches. Not a comfortable situation for me. This yard stick is used by every theatre, bus, train, and aeroplane in the civilised world. In the uncivilised world the stick is snapped in half.

I still can’t quite believe that Henry just walks around Manchester during the daytime before a show. That is something that I would have to see to believe.

vista noun.
A distant view or prospect

Microsoft’s biggest fan packed up his tent, sleeping bag, laptop and stove today when he heard the sad news that the Windows Vista operating system had been delayed until January 2007. Adrian Jones of Stockport had the coveted first position in a queue of one waiting for the software’s release. “Since I knew that the OS was going to be released this year I packed up a few of my things and decided to camp out.” His spirits had been kept high by the people going in and out of the PCWorld store located in the town. “I just want to thank all the geeks and tech-heads who have kept me going over the past month”. It was his dream that he be the first person in the town to purchase the new product upon its release. “I’ve purchased every Microsoft operating system that has been made on the first day. To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement.” Jones had been writing blog entries from his laptop on his web-site www.iheartmicrosoft.com which was receiving a massive 42 ‘hits’ per day. “I had already chosen the one that I wanted to buy out of Windows Vista Starter, Windows Vista Home Basic, Windows Vista Home Premium and Windows Vista Ultimate.” Adrian was so saddened by this first delay that he decided to go home. “If they move the release date once then it’s possible that they could move it again. I could still be here this time next year!”

Morons

The people with the garage across from me started to park their car outside their garage instead of in it. This only really started at Christmas and obviously makes getting my car in and out of my garage tricky to say the least. Out of 18 flats in the 3 blocks this is the only flat that is rented.

Before I took delivery of my new car I posted a little note through their door, explaining that I use my garage for its intended purpose. This seemed to work for a while but the first working day with the new car and they were parked there again. I wasn’t best pleased. The new car only just fits in the garage with only about 2 inches either side the wing mirrors to spare. So reversing out in a morning I have one eye on each wing mirror and the other on the parked car behind.

What makes matters worse is that they are Mormons. Now, I have absolutely nothing against differing faiths or religions, but what I despise are people who stop you in the street or go door to door to peddle their beliefs. Christians don’t do it, Catholics don’t do it, hell even Satanists don’t do it. Can you imagine a figure in a black hooded cloak ringing your door bell and saying, “Do you accept Satan into your lives so that you too can be damned in hell for all eternity?”. I think not.

The Mormons must have had a squad change recently as the car that was parked there is different to the one that is there now. Walking back home on Saturday, hands in my pockets, listening to my iPod Shuffle, two young men were walking towards me. One of the men held out his hand to be shook. Of course I just ignored him, and it, and carried on. A few steps down the road later and I figured out exactly who they were, where they lived and what car they drove. The car was still parked there this morning so I decided to pay them a visit. A polite note obviously didn’t do the trick so I decided to use 1 or 2, well more like 5 or 6, of this weeks quota of expletives. The very self same expletives that I reserve for my fellow motorists. Yes, it was the very same chap that valiantly tried to shake my hand on Saturday. He came out surveyed the scene and said, “You could drive a bus through there!”. But he couldn’t drive so how would he know that? He said that they use their car a lot and so can’t put it in the garage (that was a lie, as the car hadn’t moved all day). I gave up, did a 5 point manoeuvre to get my car out of my garage, without hitting the garage walls or the car behind, and drove off to work. All the while this idiot was watching. I wish now that I’d slammed my car into reverse and reversed over him.

But all this has made me think more about the Mormons and what a strange little cult they are. The Mormon Boys have been sent here from their HQ in Utah, they obviously aren’t related, but they live in the same flat together. And how spooky it is that no living soul has seen the contents of their garage. Perhaps they are storing poorly printed pamphlets, try saying that without your teeth in? Perhaps it contains the bodies of those Mormons who didn’t fulfil their quota of souls for the month? Perhaps it contains The Lost Ark of the Covenant? That would explain why it has never been found.

Because I quite enjoy sending bizarre e-mails maybe I should have a little fun with Mormon HQ. They actually have a web-site, I mean they’re Mormon not Amish, so they must have an e-mail address. I could pose as a born-again Satanist who is looking to convert, but I would like to ask a few questions first :-

1. Can I still wear my black hooded cloak as I’ve only had it for a few years and would like to get some use out of it?
2. Do I have to have my 666 birthmark removed or can I just grow my hair over it?
3. Must I own the entire Osmonds back catalogue or is it okay to just own the early recordings?

Guinness® Surger®

Today I heard about a new product that Guinness® are bringing out. To get a perfect pint of Guinness® all you have to do is tip the contents of a can into a glass, place the glass on a special mat and ultrasonic sound waves pass through the glass and the liquid within and hey presto.

I thought that this was strictly hush hush and that I would get the scoop, that I would be the first person to leak this technological revelation onto the internet. I believed that this information was accurate as the brother of my undisclosed source indeed confirmed that it was true. As any investigative journalist would do I checked my sources. Of course then I found that it wasn’t such a huge secret after all as the Guinness® Surger® was already listed on the Guinness® web-site.

After looking at the little demonstration clip I can’t really see that it’s going to be all that much different from Guinness® Draught Cans. If you’re any thing like me the first pint doesn’t touch the sides, so I personally couldn’t really care how it is poured.

Now if Guinness® could do something about that unfortunate side effect, The Black Wind, then I’d be impressed. But, I’m not really all that concerned myself as my little semi-detached penthouse flat has many windows that can be easily opened on the morning after the night before. And I live on my own anyway so who cares.

One extraordinary property of the black stuff is that you can walk into a pub feeling that you have to point percy at the porcelain. Then, after the first pint, you feel in no desperate rush to drain your lizard. It is only after the third pint do you remember that you needed to answer the call of nature (I couldn’t think of any more good peeing euphemisms). Or maybe that’s just me.