From Newcastle to Leeds (and back again)

Now I know that everyone loves it when I put up posts about pointless things that I bought and there hasn’t been one for a while so no doubt people are salivating at the prospect of one for November or December. The truth is though that I haven’t had much spare cash to fling about in the face of sensibleness. I almost did on a relatively expensive thing but changed my mind at the last minute. So how about something a little different?

Last Monday I undertook an epic quest (?) to Leeds Brudenell Social Club in order to see two brilliant Canadian bands called P.S. I Love You and The Rural Alberta Advantage. There are several points to consider though:

1. I don’t live in Leeds anymore
2. I don’t drive yet
3. I needed to be at work the next morning

With this in mind it all seemed a little crazy, and it was. I board my train from Newcastle just after 6pm. It went straight through to Leeds with no detours, which was good, but the whole journey takes about 90 minutes and I’ve never been to the Brudenell before so I have to take a taxi. I caught one and arrived around 8pm and as the doors only opened at 7:30pm I hadn’t missed anything. Great. I take a seat and read the schedule; first band on at 8.20pm and second band on at 9:20pm.

I have to catch a taxi back to the station at 9:50pm in order to catch my train at 10:10pm. This means I will catch about half of the second band’s set which isn’t too bad.

But then disaster. P.S. I Love You don’t clamber onto stage until 8.35pm. Whilst they perform a blistering 30 minute set to an almost empty room I enjoy every minute of it. At first I sit towards the back so I can take in the whole stage. It is only ten minutes in that a group of people then choose to stand right in front of me, despite most of the room being empty, to watch the band. One woman even turns around, looks me dead in the eye and then carries on standing right in the way. I choose to move forward and sit on the steps closer to the stage. Another man then blocks my view about twenty minutes in however he is the sound guy and must be checking the levels. He’s clearly upset as he returns several times to check. All I can hear is ear-shattering rock n roll music however I do not work in the music biz and my ear drums were destroyed at least two decades ago from listening to Dr Hook and the Medicine Group way too high.

So this delay then sets a chain reaction off. P.S. I Love You leave the stage but the second band don’t get back on until around 9.36pm (I’m being precise for a reason). I get to see around twelve minutes of the Rural Alberta Advantage before I get the call back from the taxi firm and have to head off. I leave just as Amy Cole is explaining that she visited a honey farm during the day and spent about fifty quid on honey products (bless).

The expense doesn’t end there though. My train back to Newcastle does not arrive until midnight, by which time the Metros have stopped running so I am forced to get another taxi home. What do the numbers look like? Let’s run them through down here:

Gig Ticket – £12.00
Train ticket to Leeds – £14.00
Food for the train – £3.00
Taxi to Brudenell – £6.00 (I gave a respectable tip)
Gig Merch – £10.00 (P.S. I Love You were kind enough to sign them too)
Taxi to Leeds Station – £6.00 (another tip)
Coffee at McDonalds – £1.50
Train ticket to Newcastle – £14.00
Taxi Home – £12.00 (such a generous tipper)

Total – £78.50

I spent a full £78.50 for less than fifty minutes of music. I think that makes me dedicated and much better than everyone else and I knew that before I even started writing this post.

What? Eh? What?

What the hell is this?

Just… can someone give me a hand here? I can see something, there’s definitely something there right in front of my eyes, because my eyes register that there is something on the screen. But what is it?

I think it’s a picture of some description. There are some people on it but none of them are really looking at each other.

My brain cannot process it. To me it resembles a really poor attempt at trying to cobble together an idea for an album. It’s as if some people decided to release an album but couldn’t be bothered writing any songs so they just stole a bunch from other, more successful, more talented artists.

Can anyone help?

The James D. Titan Birthday Primordial Night Out – 2014 Edition

Some nights need to be undertaken twice to re-live the tang. Some nights, however, happen once and you’re glad that they never happen again. Some nights just happen and they’re over before you expect it.

I could do this all day.

Some nights leave a warm glass of milk next to your bed and force you to drink it in your sleep. Some nights see you dressing in the bathroom and watch the whole thing.

In any case, it was our misfortune to suffer yet another birthday night out. My birthday night out to be precise. I was there and I can tell you immediately and without hesitation that it was tip-top. It was top notch. Here’s a smattering of reasons why:

1. Smidge Manly decides to release ‘Double Bugger: 35 essential 80’s songs’ to celebrate that he hasn’t been around for a while and we miss his world-weary, dulcet tones. A white label demo is expected by early 2015. Whether or not his Manly Choir decide to provide BV’s is still undecided.

2. Hot off the invention press is the Diver’s Mitt. What this remarkable piece of equipment does is ensure that, when you’re diving, you don’t become too good at diving. You don’t want to show up the other divers and this essential webbed glove will ensure this never takes place.

3. Kevin may have to take Taylor Swift aside to discuss the Diver’s Mitt in more private and intimate surroundings…

4. The world of art theft is a tricky one, and one which cannot be rushed. If you decide to join the world of art theft you must ensure that not only are you very very good at stealing art but also that you can muster the correct arm and hand movements. There’s no point deciding to steal art if your wrists are weak and your arms are bloated.

5. Sometimes Kevin looks like Richard E. Grant in his grey coat. He’s also very good at doing Liam Neeson’s speech from ‘Taken’ as Kermit the Frog.

6. What Reader’s Digest did to books is unforgivable.

Afterwards it was officially decided that I am now 30 + 1 and that handing someone the ass of a rat is a big deal and should not be taken lightly.

Fromage Homage

It’s around this time of the year that everyone looks to the future. There is a lot of talk about Christmas and the inevitable run up and everything involved. Let us not forget the things though that are constant. These things that are around us on a regular basis that refuse to give up when times are hard. I am, of course, talking about cheese.

When was the last time you gave a hearty shout out to the marvel of cheese?

When did you last go a bit glossy-eyed about a bit of Brie or a slice of Red Leicester?

There are some members of this website that regularly draw themselves as a large clump of cheese that wanders around London in a top hat. That I confess I have never done, yet I feel a strong affinity with cheese. It hides in my sandwich and tickles my fancy. It stares at me longingly from the shelves, urging me to purchase it.

There have been times when in my darkest moments I have not acknowledged it in the way that it deserves and I am looking to rectify that in any way I can. So here it is, my little flag-waving entry in the long history of the Beans to pull up a chair and put my arm around that most helpful and comforting of fellows. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you cheese.

(Addendum: this post was created in conjunction with the fact that homage rhymes with the French word for ‘cheese’).

Sponsor My Face

So we’re approaching the end of October and it’s only fair that my face gets the attention it deserves.

I mean come on people, this beard doesn’t grow itself you know. Look at it; such a magnificent specimen of a clutter of face candy right there. That has inspired numerous people, including yourselves, to throw money at it in the aid of raising money. And what money has been raised? Enough for me to continue to hold my head high, even if it may be weighed down with the loveliness centred about my chin.

Let us all take a couple of minutes to ponder this before moving on with our lives.

The Kevil Competition Appeal

As the days unfold in a flurry of Autumn leaves it appears as though something is amiss. There is something missing from our lives that up until now has remained unbeknownst to the common man. There is a space in the cupboard where something should be. There’s a small burrow in your wardrobe where something should be hanging. You go to pour your boiling hot water and all you do is empty the contents of the kettle onto the kitchen top.

Yes. That’s it. Someone has been a little selfish and hasn’t been sending out freebies recently.

I always wear my Kevil brand merchandising with pride, and the fact that they get sent to my house for free is just a cheeky bonus. Those excitable moments peering through the cardboard at the latest nugget to drop onto your doorstep… I don’t know about you but I want more.

So here it is, the competition you’ve been waiting for.

So far there’s been a crab and a penguin but what animal would you like Kev to use his magic on and turn into a cartoon to be flaunted on mugs, t-shirts and other appealing merch?
What member of the kingdom of not humans could turn your mid-morning beverage into a statement rather than another part of your dreary, meaningless existence?
If you’re going to shake your bits at the roller disco what would you like splashed across your chest to herald your appearance?

Vote now!

The Kevindo Menendez Birthday Memorial Tribute Night Out – 2014 Edition

What happens when your birthday is shit, like dirt dog ass shit? When it feels as though someone has taken the time to use a straw to blow shit all over you and your life and then refuse to clean it up?

Thankfully this isn’t what happened on Kev’s birthday. It was a little weak but the company was swift and then getting wrecked at his parent’s house is always a welcome change from hanging out with the twelve year olds at the Gascoigne’s. It seemed fair though that in order to restore the balance something was required to levitate his birthday out of the doldrums and back into what scientists are now calling “Acebag Territory”.

How does one do this? It’s incredibly difficult to justify a birthday night out a full sixty four days after the day of the birthday itself. Luckily I’m not someone who feels the need to justify most of anything I do. So we did. The guest list was so exclusive only two people were invited. The timing was so tight there wasn’t enough time for pre-drink drinks or post-drink drinks. It was straight into the drinks. Here are a list of things we learned:

For the first two or three bars we witnessed several common phenomena which continued to repeat itself. Whichever place we went to would eventually have most of the patrons gone by the time we left. We also ran into pairs of lesbians as well as several other people who caught the same train into Leeds as we did.
Johnny Bobbins runs the tiny ticket desk at Leeds train station. When you don’t get a chance to buy a ticket on a train you have to visit his window where he uses his ticket machine from 1975 to produce one for you so you can get through the barriers. Kev has absolutely no respect for Johnny Bobbins. I do, but only so far as where his job is concerned. When he dresses up as a sexy witch I draw the line; whatever he wants to do in his free time is nothing to do with me.
The title for the evening was not decided properly until after the evening was over.
No matter where I go, no matter what I’m doing, I still seem to be able to attract both people I know and strangers. In this instance it was a guy from Hull for giving some change to a homeless man, a woman I work with also on a night out in Leeds and then some guy advertising a strip club who insisted he could help us get in with his help. I know I’m pushing 30 but I think I could make it down the steps unaided.
Don’t snaffle a full bag of Doritos after excessive drinking; it’ll make your mouth extra furry in the morning.
The Mixing Tin does no longer exist, and hasn’t for some time. Getting a drink there was excessively hard.

It’s clear that this should therefore be a regular thing. I invite everyone reading this to sign up for next year’s entry in the hope of broadening the horizons of the Kevindo Menendez Birthday Memorial Tribute Night Out.

Broaden indeed.

Best Laid Plans – Update

Every man has a dream.

Unfortunately it seems as though every dream comes with a cost and a price tag. Yes, both.

Not too long ago I stole someone else’s dreams. I wanted to have coast to coast goats in order to satisfy the need for goats. The world was crying out for goats and nobody was delivering them. Who was I to deny the world their dreams whilst satisfying my own at the same time?

So it happened. I wheeled out the goats and in one long, glorious line they stretched from Blackpool in the West to Scarborough in the East. It resembled something akin to Hadrian’s Wall, except with goats. It was like the Great Wall of China, but with goats instead of walls. And so the people came together and decided to name my wonderful wall of goats. It’s just a shame that they didn’t think to put more effort into it; Goat Wall.

The Goat Wall was an immediate success, even if Joey Essex did travel up and tried to cut it with a huge pair of novelty scissors. Fanatics took to patting the heads of each and every goat in the Goat Wall. Postcard enthusiasts took pictures and start selling photos of the Goat Wall several minutes before it had even opened, much was their frenzy. Members of the mailing list were picked at random and given signed photos of the most popular goats. It was exactly the kind of support the Goat Wall needed to get up and running.

That was it though. It seemed as though I had overestimated the need for goats and no matter what I did, even selling tickets from door to door like a common bed-wetter, the bright spark that once fuelled my dreams was dabbled with mascarpone. Even if I wanted coast-to-coast goats nobody else did. So now they stand, once titans in their field, now reduced to squabbling amongst themselves for the last blade of grass. I want to keep them but I’m sending them away to the farthest parts of the globe in the hope that maybe the world will appreciate them more than Great Britain. Maybe Global Goats is the way forward, and thus my dream morphs into something else. Maybe this time next year Global Goats will be one of the eight wonders of the world…

Pouring
Beans

Author: Ian “Air Travel Regulations” McIver