Posted 3:23 PM by Gobbler
Buenos Blogges

my current emporium is Hostel Clan. I have had considerable trouble remembering the name of any of the staff here and have now taken to calling them all Tony. the girls get confused andthink im a bit wierd but theyll struggle through. this is a pretty hip`hop and hap hap happening place where the party never stops. tonight is pizza night, i mean how rocking is that. Tony is cooking the pizzas, assisted by tony and tony. if nothing else the beer should be drinkable.

my dorm is full of ladies. im not quite sure how this intriguing state of affairs came about but im happy to report that they just love my snoring. they were somewhat shocked the other night to see me asleep ijn bed the other night snoring away with a beer in one hand and my walkman in the other. it really made them glad they are sharing a room with me. what they did not realise is that the beer bottle had water in it, in a last bid attempt to stave off yesterdays hangover which ended ultimately in failure. largely becasue only a small amount of the water was the drunk the rest being spilt on my bed. awaking in a distinctly damp environment it occured to me that an unfortunate drink related accident had occured (The Wrong Trousers A bit like what happened to a friend of a friend. he was at a party and ended up in someone elses bed. at some point in the evening he removed his undergarments and at another point, obviously some time later, put the undergarments and trousers back on. next day a girl at the party, looking for her undergarments and trousers, noticed that he was wearing them. Accidentally in the course of his inebriation he had appropriated the wrong trousers and entirely inappropriate g-string. but inexplicably he refused to give them back and soon left the premises with the girls trousers still on and his own in his arms. refusing to explain why, he promised that he would give them back the next day, which he duly did. Possible likely explanation: a big fan of this ladies underware, bit of a dirty perv, and fond of ladies clothing. Actual unlikely reason: Due to being battered beyond belief he had shat himself in the night.) but there was a difficulty with this analysis: unless i had urinated iout of my right ear the logistics vis a vis the location of the wetpatch did not add up. it was just water. adult diapers not yet required.

Last night a friend of mine from those wacky zany far out and damned hippy-esque days in thailand, a certain Miss Aldridge of Koh Tao diving failure fame, flew in to buenos ayres, and arrived at the hostel at about half one in the morning. one of the best things about miss aldridge is that, being english, she is not a damned foreigner, and fond of a solid beverage. after a quick beer in the hostel we headed off to Kilkennys Irish Pub for a few beverages, for a dab of local culture, and returned home to be in bed at a respectable 7 am. the bizarre thing, i mean really far out, isd that ive only known miss aldridge for four days, the duration of my diving course on koh tao, but remarkably contact ahs been maintained and now it is like were old friends. a lot of peculiar things have happened since koh tao back in mid july, not a few of which have been chronicled here, and miss a has herself been around a bit. we still seem to get on marvellously, which is jolly handy. let me explain, the reason is very simple: Fray Bentos.

As you will all immediately recall, i first heard about Fray Bentos from a northern fellow called tom. his principle incentive for coming to south america was the Fray Bentos Pie Factory in Uraguay. i had never heard of the things before, but i developed a fascination for the place and resolved to go. Im a big fan of pies, and while at uni was lucky enough to win a pie competition which earnt our house a years supply of pies. i dont know how 100 pies, puddings and pasties are supposed to last you a whole year but thats by the by. and now i hear about the holy grail of pie lovers everywhere, the mystical land of Fray Bentos. But you see pie lovers, there was a problem. i was scared of the pies, of the fray bentos factory. all those lovely pies might have been too much for me, i might have been overwhelmed by the pie factor, my pieometer might have gone through the roof, like a pie in the sky. i might have been all pied out, unable to ever gaze upon a pie again except with revulsion, a pie too far. but with Miss Aldridge, a fellow pie devotee, i will be safe.

good heavens, how the pie flies. the pizza party is beginning! and afterwards we're going out for some local culture, Kilkenny's irsh pub!

Mind you, miss aldridge is taking me to a tango class tomorrow. little does she realise how dangerous an enterprise this is, but she will not be stopped. yo tngo mucho tango. no talk backkage today o my punkers, but thanks for caring. your humble blogger.

last night

Posted 5:16 PM by Gobbler
The National Blog-spress

When youre sad and feeling blue
With nothing better to do,
Dont just sit theyre being depressed,
Take a trip on the National Express.

All human life is here
From the fragile old dear
To the screaming child
From the student who knows
That to have one of those
Would be suicide,
To the family man,
Manhandling the pram
With Paternal Pride.

On the National Express,
Theres a jolly hostess,
Serving crisps and tea.
She'll provide you with drinks
And theatrcal winks,
For a sky-high fee.

Miniskirts were in style
When She'd danced down the isle
Back in sixty three.
But its hard to get by
When your arse is the size
Of a small country!


Im back on the blog cos im waiting for a messenger message thing with someone, and unsurprisingly that someone is late.

Its ten o-clock in the pm, the night is just beginning. i need at some stage to get some dinner and at around one o-clock. yep got to go again

back for a second. im not in the mood to write i regret, the headache that has been grinding me down akll day is still grinding me down and its past midnight. however, as one mustnt let the b***ards grind one down i shall battle on. but there is something i haave wanted to say for a long time. it deserves a 10000 word treatise but a few dozen will have to suffice for now.

CLOSURE

Have you ever 'achieved closure'? probably (and this isnt meant to be more gratuitous yank bashing, its just the way it is in my experience anyway) if youre female and american you have. lots of times. you see, friends, closure is important. we need 'closure' at certain times sio that we can move on emotionally. you see, its no good dragging around all that emotional baggage, youve got to let go and move on. gotta get yourself some of that 'closure'.

well now, this is all well and good, and probably largely true, but i have a gripe. I dislike 'closure' in fact i hate 'closure'. the word 'closure' when used to indicate that someone has achieved 'closure' is one of the most despicable words ever conceived by man or beast. applying such a cold, technical term to emotions (and 'closure' is used exclusively to deal with emotions) is frankly not on at all. 'closure' should be banned. Someone told me i had achieved 'closure' once. well, in truth they may have been right but i still had no time for the word 'closure'. i had a disturbing urge to grab them by the scruff of the neck and scream at disturbingly high volume "Does not compute! i am not a flipping robot! I do not get 'closure' Program incomplete!" Thats not quite true. lets face it, in truth i would have said 'fucking' not 'flipping'. just being pc for the dear reader.

Hockey Rich: that songs jsut for you mate. all the rest, 'closure', treat yourself

Posted 2:55 PM by Gobbler
In the name of Blog

Ha! you cannot stop me! the talkbacks have been conquered at last! there was a very unpleasant moment when the screen went fuzzy and then died leaving me thinking i had just lost everything, but it was only a loose cable.

i didnt manage to do any blog yesterday, despite being online for three hours. i got locked into some messenger convos, one after the other. the first was withn a peruvian mate of mine, always fun because half the time i cant understand a word of what he says and on this occassion i forgot my dictionary. and then i chatted to oh a couple of other punks;).

A Faux Pas

so i have arrived in buenos ayres, argentina, party pantry. My journey from the falklands took a little over 24 hours and included a splendid ten hour stop over in santiago international airport. From 11pm to 9am. didnt go to sleep because i was worried about getting my stuff knicked or not wakingup in time (my alarm clock is a crock of chite). i am now painfully familiar with santiagos bus station and airport. i recommend neither for an extended stay. i know virtually nothing about santiago outside of these establishments, but the word on the street is that im better off in buenos ayres.

Last night we (a coulple of sorted yanks, called ed and Randy (yes, i have met a randy!! another of lifes objectives complete!) took in a fine pepper steak to kick off the eveining at about 10 pm. the waiter didnt appear to like our sort very much; it was a posh joint and we were conspicuously underdressed. he spoke curt spanish to us all night long until he brought the bill, after which he, on two seperate occassions, said in clear english "this does not include tip". well, in the end he got his 9%.

We returned to the hostel, but as it was only midnight a new plan had to be forged. this process was lubricated by a beer and the solution resolved upon was traditional to put it bluntly: "GO TO THE PUB AND DRINK BEER". so we did. off to Kilkennys irish Pub, where the nigth before i had explained to Max, a german geezer, the rudimentaries of cricket, using the patent pending "Gouldens Baseball Comparison Method". last night was to take a different turn.

Scandal! Controversy! Faux Pas extraordinaire! in true Fawlty Towers fashion, whatever you do, Dont mention the War! i had, prior to last night, not even remotely, alluded to the fact that i had visited the falklands islands when in the company of argentinos. i just considered it better to pass over that one, tho i was pretty sure noone cared that much. There is a map of argentina in the hostel with the Falklands clearly marked as "Islas Malvinas (Arg)" and the capital, port stanley, marked as "Puerto Argentino". Clearly the map maker was deluded, but lets not get bogged down yet. Anyway, lst night, an argentinian girl came over to our table and started chatting. And I, I couldnt do it. I couldnt keep up the pretence amny longer. She asked me where i had just come from and i said, with only a little hesitation (for my mind was resolved on honesty) that i had arrived the day before from the Falkland Islands, las Islas Malvinas. "Ah," she returned, "the Argentinian Islas Malvinas, until you stole them from us." Things began to get childish. "Tripe and nonsqueak!" i exclaimed, "they were british before they were Argentinian, and French after that!" "no you stole them, theyre ours!"...

But i deserve a pat on the back. i did not carry forth the debate to its logical conclusion (arguement drags on WWI style in a cruel attrition til one side collapses exhausted, at which point im dragged outside by an argie mob and torn to little pieces) which would of course have been, oh, nevermind.

But just to clear this up. the british had them first, in the seventeenth or eighteenth cetury i believe. they buggered off after a little bit, but left a few buildings, the quintessential flag and a little sign saying "Hands off our rock! We'll be back! Check out out our flag you L-L-Losers! Yours sincerely, Signed Blighty" then the french came along a bit later, but they got bored and went home. maybe they left a sign too i dont know. then in 1830 Buenos Ayres (for there was no argentina at this`point) put some people on the island and let it be known that ownership had changed per-ma-nently. Well, things were about to get ugly. some time later, blighty got to hear about this annexation of the falklands, and a conference was held. Mr Blight O'Blighty, the local historian, checked his records and returned with the vital news: "yay verily m'lord, most certain and past question we did planteth our flag, the Jack of Unions, some 150 years ago, on Falklands boggy soil, proclaiming to men of all faiths and races that their pinkies should be placed elsewhere" "Well i say!" Returned Admiral McBlighty, "thats a bit orf, what! I say, what do you say we send a few warships down there and give those rotters what for?" The Prime Minister looked stern, and after some seconds of thought, returned his answer: "I say good show" And so tjhey did, and in 1833 the argies were rmoved from the island and some brits were put there instead. thats the way it was.

Moral of the story: planteth your flag in the fertile tuft and it shall bear fruit.

tulsa hilton: 24/11: "when iwas in the falklands, i had the good fortune to meet a welshman..." 30/11: China next, quite obviously. and i wouldnt say that i was homesick but im very much looking forward to going home. for the bacon sandwhiches, roasts and barbecues. may not get too many bbqs at this time of year tho.

Rach: 24/11: no i wasnt joking. about the rugby. of course i was joking about the prostitute, what kind of punk do you take me for? i would never pay more than a tenner in thailand. 26/11: Technically youre a blinking star. athankyou

Jernau-Chubb Daedalus IV: 25/11: wise words mate

Evil Uncle: 25/11: heh heh. take your word for it guvnor. 1/12: i dont suppose you were present on the scene were you? is this a sordid confession of an evil uncle?

sianodel: 26/11: Are you still talking about prostitutes? how marvellous.

Hockey Rich:26/11: youre a bloody genius mate, i knew someone would clock on eventually. a far better quote than "youre only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!" in my opinion. and that film didnt have even a sniff of a train. 27/11: "If twelve hundred men couldnt stop the Zulus, what chance have we with a hundred?"

Laura: 27/11: "how many miles can you march in a day?" "Oh well, lets see now, fifty miles is it?" "Well a Zulu can run, run fifty miles, and fight a battle at the end of it." "Well theres daft it is then. I dont see much sense in running to fight a battle." no idea why i still remember that. must be all the long lonely nights. 28/11: the last fancy dress i went to was 'black and white'. simple enough but it worked quite well. either that or the old classic "hair and a g-string". 2/12: not sure if im going to be around for new years. there are some top secret-hush-hush-mums-the-word plans that might draw me elsewhere. but if im in blighty count me in. you planning to have it in newcastle then?

Vinny boy: 29/11: 21st december old boy. only back for about five weeks as im off to china end of jan. see you in a few weeks mate. and thats good burger gobbling work. 1/12: yeah that miserable slice of orange always mightily pissed me off after being mashed to a pulp for forty minutes in rugby. its all about the tea. and thats a quality picture, where do you get them from?

Kat: 29/11: theres nothing wrong with american bacon, its just not quite english bacon. anfd as my mum used to make me one every morning for about 15 years ive grown quite attached to the stuff. she even used to make them for me when i got home from night shift at five in the morning. god bless mums. 1/12: now dont listen to the nasty man. you can call them spaids if you want to. and yeah i know hearts, its a bit like bridge only a little crapper. and dont worry, 100% commited to having FUN!!!! hard not to in buenos-ayres-party-on-capital-woohoo! 2/12: always knew the Spics were a sketchy bunch of punters, this is proof.

Odysseus: well it wasnt im afraid.

lovely bubbley: 1/12: yes, less than three weeks now. I'll let you know confirmed flight times when i get them, things might have changed a bit in the last six months. see you soon! love nick.

Posted 3:33 PM by Gobbler
Blog Back

Evil Uncle: 14/11: Italian Squelchers never spotted again. Horizontal jogging thus far produced no dutch things. Swedish Sweetness AWOL. Belgians blimey. England world cup yesyoubeauty. 19/11: sheep avoided, foreign tongues remain abroad. Swedish Sweetness AWOL. Operation Urgent Foreign Tongue will begin at 0800 hours. no need to use cliff edges in falkland, i discovered. the brothels have bondage equipment. 22/11: Yes yes, good show England, really gave the covicts what for. IM PETER PAN. IM PETER PAN. what a sketchy punter.

kat the muse: 14/11: Not only is he my uncle hes also a paid up member of the London Metropolitan Police... As for washing machine cycle enhancements I quite clearly can only speculate. Although i hear the new Dyson with its revolutionary twin revolution system is worth a shot although this may mean your clothes do not get 'whiter than white'.

laura: 17/11: nope never yet been to Barcelona (such a beautiful horizon. Barcel-oooooooooo-na...) Sorry for not giving full stories sometimes i balme it on the discombobulating weather. Will try harder. 20/11: thanks, yes i got the emails.

Gollum: 18/11: i knew there was a gremlin in the works somewhere. 19/11: "Mr Spice? Mr Spice? What news is this? what are you saying Saruman?" "A new age is upon us. A new power is rising. Nothing that men or elves or wizards can do will avail against it. Its enemies are utterly doomed, but its friends, aghhh. Where is the ring gandalf..." (i refer you to the cartoon) Anyway, mr spice? does that mean? And theres nothing quite like a two hour wlak to clear away the cobwebs.

Hockey Rich: 20/11: Can i have it? Is that what you used to watch Zulu on? Damn funny. What news is this, what are you saying saruman? Its is time for us to choose, a new game is upon us. nothing that men or trains or usuals can do will avail against it. its enemies are utterly doomed, but its players, aghhh. Good work soldier.

kat: Listen sweetcheeks, its all about the bridge. too stupid o understand the 'left playing spaids' comment. perhaps you are too stupid to be able to spell 'spades' correctly. perhaops i am too stupid to realise that the 'spades' in cards are actually spelt 'spaids'. Suddenly you have undermined one of the foundations of my existence. so,mebody please help. 'spades' or 'spaids' in cards? no hang about what thren hell am i thinking, theyre blatanbtly called 'spades'. kat you dubiously literate feline, explain yourself. back in argie alnd now, argie sausages for dinner, will find steak tomorrow... 22/11: whats this about the celts referring to spain as 'hell'? first ive heard of it. how marvellous, please elaborate. and im sorry about all these disgraceful and unprovoked hits on your national sport. i havent been to a college game, havent even been to a game. did go and see the seattle mariners up that way a few years back but i appreciate thats a different sport. while in Tulsa OK i did go and see a band practice for highschool football though. my cousins in the band (that troops up and down before the game starts) and as i guess you know they play tunes and walk aropund in pre-arranged directions while pretty girls in colourful short-skirts and sticks or pom-poms slither in and out of the musicians. they go and have competitions about the place for the best display and everything. quite impressive i have to admit. no doubt college football is even better. ahh, havent i made up for all those nasty people have been saying? there there.

Vinny Boy: 21/11: Quite so quite so. In my opinion, if youre going to design a game with something else in mind, for pities sake make the something else sensible. take the finest example on gods green earth: cricket. Now, to those of you who dont know, cricket takes a while to play, at least an afternoon. When playing against the Australians its customary to play a five day game so that they can give one a thorough drubbing. But thge game designers were a sensible, english bunch, which is why, half way through the afternoon, there is a break. Not for the commercials. Not for half time or some such absurd notion. certainly not for a 'time-out' (what an idea!). no nio no. the reason there is a break halfway through the afternoon is for tea. It is the tea break. At this point players leave the field and take tea. and possibly some of someones fine scones and jam. sometimes you get cakes and cucumber sandwiches also. after tea you continue thge game. I mean it makes perfect sense. A fellow cant do without tea. And, ah, ENGLAND YOU LITTLE BEAUTY!!! (i may have just stumbled across the reason why our american cousins (with the respectful exception of miss kat and associates and perhaps others) use capitals and exclamtion marks to such excess. they are always beating people at things (for example they win the baseball world comp every year and i think the american football world comp too...) that theyre always celebrating the awesome things that keep happening. i guess we'll (english types) follow suuit now that weve finally won something.)

Rach: 22/11: i dont know, see what i mean about this exclamation mark thing. (see above) mind you, it is all pretty AWESOME!!!!!!

oh blimey, dinner is served. TBC.