Real men...

Clear out the drains on a Saturday morning with their bare hands and a stick.

Real men...

...have several pints of lager and a foot long meatball sandwich for lunch.

Poets day

Right I'm off to the pub. Anyone fancy a pint?

Life's Pretty Straight Without Neveratoss

Can’t think of a tag line for your blog? Generate an advertising slogan with this.

They also have a Dossier Sexupifier if anyone from Downing Street is reading this.

via Pobrecita

Feel drunk for free

Time to lower the tone...

Any complaints should be directed to one Tad Cooke (email address available on request).

Mr. Jones gets a call from the hospital. They tell him his wife's been in a terrible car accident. He rushes to the hospital, runs in to the ER and says his wife's been in an accident. They tell him Dr. Smith is handling the case. They page the doctor. He comes out to the waiting room to see a terribly upset Mr. Jones. "Mr. Jones?" the doctor asks.
"Yes sir, what's happened? How is my wife?" The doctor sits next to him and says, "Not good news. Your wife's accident resulted in two fractures of her spine." "Oh my God" says Mr. Jones, "what will be her prognosis?" "Well, Mr. Jones, her vital signs are stable. However, her spine is inoperatable. She'll have no motor skills or capability.
This means you will have to feed her." Mr. Jones begins to sob. "And you'll have to turn her in her bed every two hours to prevent pneumonia." Mr. Jones begins to wail and cry loudly. Then, of course," the doctor continued, "you'll have to diaper her as she'll have no control over her bladder and of course these diapers must be changed at least five times a day." Mr. Jones begins to shake as he cries, sobs, wails. The doctor continues: "And you'll have to clean up her faeces on a regular basis as she'll have no control over her sphincters. Her bowel will engorge whenever and quite often I'm afraid, Of course you must clean her immediately to avoid accumulation of the putrid effluent
she'll be emitting regularly." Now Mr. Jones is convulsing sobbing uncontrollably and beginning to wither off the bench into a sobbing pitiful mass.

Just then Dr. Smith reaches out his hand and pats Mr. Jones on the shoulder. "Hey, I'm just messing with you man , she's dead"

Wing Commander Neveratoss Hyphen Blogg

On this day in 1979 I took the Queen’s shilling and enlisted in the Royal Air Force, the start of a very mediocre seven year career in aerial reconnaissance. In saw inaction in many of the world's trouble spots, Norwich, Huntingdon, Lincolnshire, West Germany, Norway and Northern Ireland. I was described by one of my NCOs (who’s career I played a part in ruining) some seventeen years later as a "square peg in a round hole". I enjoyed my time in the RAF, I made some good friends, but it really wasn’t for me. One day I might discover what is.

Update: here's a link to my old squadron, eh what?

Limited companies unlimited

Jann and Gordon are considering setting themselves up Limited Companies for their freelancing activities. I’ve been doing it for years. My advice is to keep it simple, don’t try to buck the system, pay for a good accountant (get personal recommendations), don’t mess with the VAT man or Companies House.

Here are a few links to places where you will find useful advice and probably more links.

My accountant (free advert Phil)
The Professional Contractors Group
CWJobs First Timers Guide

Drop me an email guys if you need more information.

Half birthday

neveratossBlog is six month old today, here’s my first posting. Better go for a beer.

Press clipping

A young girl who was blown out to sea on a set of inflatable teeth was rescued by a man on an inflatable lobster. A coastguard spokesman commented, "This sort of thing is all
too common". (The Times)

sent to me by "Swiss" Tony (who really needs to get his blog going again)

Real men...

Have three pasties for lunch (two jumbo cornish and one cheese and onion).

and I'm still built like a racing snake.

Proper surfing

My friend Mark who lives in Australia is a proper surfer, he sent me this link to the Burleigh Heads, New South Wales, surf cam. We are not worthy.

Surf report...

The journey down to Newquay on Friday was easy peasy, we arrived at around 6:00pm, pitched the tents and schlepped into town for cleansing ales. After twenty or thirty ales in twenty or thirty bars we were feeling as cleansed as newts and started on the sambukas, vodkas, martinis and so on. The best bar had to be the Walkabout which was full of feral Aussies, Kiwis, Sith Efrikans and Northerners; we stayed there until it shut. "Swiss" Tony gave a mosh pit master class.

We crawled into our respective tents at around 3:00 am, didn’t want a late night as we had to be up and at ‘em for surfing. Top tip number one, never share a tent with "Swiss" Tony, he’ll piss in your water bottle and throw up outside your tent, he’s that kind of guy.

Saturday morning we were up with the lark for surf lessons and hanging ten. Unfortunately the people giving the surf lessons had a van problem so we didn’t get into the water until around midday. There followed two hours of trying to stand up on a surf board whilst the Atlantic Ocean a complete lack of fitness and skill conspired against us. We left the water grinning like idiots. What a great way to spend a couple of hours, we all managed to get some fleeting contact between feet and surf board at some stage.

Saturday afternoon was chill out time which involved wandering aimlessly around Newquay, going for a beer and crashing out in the tents whilst it rained very heavily. Then it was out on the town again, a few beers in a few more bars then we made the tactical blunder of going for a massive Mexican meal at 9:00pm. The rest of the night was spent drinking red wine slowly and trying to stay awake.

There was big talk about surfing on Sunday morning but the aforementioned lack of fitness prevailed, there was too much muscle pain to actually do it. We went shopping and drinking coffee instead. I fell in love with a work of art masquerading as a surfboard but resisted the urge to shell out £500.00.

All in all, a great weekend away. There might be a photo somewhere of four unfit blokes in wetsuits which I’ll post to scare away those of a delicate disposition.