Hotrod's Mystery Shitbox Theatre

Google+ Pals

2011-07-27T09:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had a great day meeting new friends, on Google+ so I thought I'd write a little note and mention them all by name. They are all so special to me!

(when I say 'meeting new friends' I actually mean 'adding people with rude sounding names').

Let's hear a round of applause for my new pals!

Sarah Coch
Jizhi Tao
Fartyal Rakesh
Bummtschak Bummbummtschak
Shitti Lee
Jerker Stigsson
Cack Ferrell
Jobbi Abraham (he's my favourite)
Poopu Ka
Fartash Faghri (who could forget him)
Ian Flaps (MY BEST FRIEND)
Guffy Wade
Pong Bums
Marco Arce (watch out ladies!)
Asser Munch
Wankit Chow
Vag Kok
Roger Finger
Jami Dix
Vomito Delirante
Bummy Spears
Boning Wang
Hyman Rubin
Chuffe Castillo
Alan Bummer
Letoffet Fabrice
Bummah Ndeh
Justin Tits
Boke Logan
Pisser Wang
Paulo Knob
Alexey Poof
Suckseed Armmer
Rahul Clit
Arcee Gamit
Edward Boner (ALWAYS buy Boner)
Pishi Christiana
Kelvin Penus
Fuchs Rechtsanwaltskanzlei Christian Fuchs
Bubi Canal (it's lovely this time of year)
Anal Merchant
Bumoh Park (don't go there after dark)
Poohdish Rattanavijai
Chode Choudary
Dick Pepper
Michael Sack
Mark Cockshoot
Dick Bell
Bumin Huang
Wankel Yu
Fartout Ahmed
Tim Cock
Wanko Wonka
Shit Tong
Anita Fister
Jiz James
Shart Nayaks
Shravan Cheese
Marc de Cock Buning
Fuchih Lien
Trump Gees (!!!!)

And last but not least.... Elena Plop.

Haircut 100: UPDATE

2011-06-27T04:02:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has read this blog before may or may not remember my post a few months back about the foibles of getting a haircut (which you can read here).

Today I went back to that very same barber (a very well known franchise, including a branch in Ballyhackamore) for a long overdue trim.

As I walked in, I was met with a very cheery smile, and a lovely lady saying, "You're the man with the blog aren't you?"

Well, I don't mind telling you that my heart just about hit the floor. I was somewhat scundered as I had no idea that any more than about 6 people even glanced at this thing, and I REALLY had no idea that it would get back to the good people of the barbershop.

I'm very, very pleased to say though that they thought it was great, and had a good oul' laugh over it, even going so far as to debate whether or not to keep serving coffee etc after I discussed it in my post.

So I just wanted to say a very, very big thank you to the good people of Jason Shankey for being such good sports about it and taking my rambling nonsense in good humour. I should also add that I had an absoloutely brilliant experience there this morning, the guy snipping my locks was a great bunch of lads and did a superb job. I'm very pleased with my new haircut and they've just about guaranteed me as a customer for life. Can't reccomend 'em highly enough!

I'm going to try to keep this oul' thing updated a bit more regularly as I love writing it, but I've been very busy the past wee while. I don't have much else to add, so here are a couple of snippets of me on Radio 1, with my HOT ROD OF COMEDY segment.

Im the first one I'm talking to ultra-offensive but downright lovely San Fran comic Scott Capurro (after his CQAF appearance) and in the second I'm playing detective with Carrick comedian Morgan Hearst. Enjoy!

Hotrod's Hot Rod of Comedy, with Scott Capurro. by hotrodmccaughan

BBC Radio 1, Hotrod's Hot Rod of Comedy - Detective Hotrod and Morgan Hearst by hotrodmccaughan

Well that's all for now. I'm going to work my ass off for the next 8 hours or so, and then I'm having my very good friend Pearce Kelly over for dinner, as he's here for a few days to see his family after recently becoming a doctor. If you know him, make sure to drop him a line to say congrats!

Byebye!

HR.

(If you like what you see/hear please do share this on Facebook or Twitter or whatever else)

A Great Conversation.

2011-04-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

I just had a great conversation, here's how it went down.

me: "Hello, I'm Peter"

man: "Peter who?"

me: "Peter McCaughan"

man: "spell that?"

me: "em cee cee ay you gee aich ay enn"

man: "McCaughan?"

me: yes

man: "Nice name. Nice name."

That's my kind of conversation.

The Nerd Brothers!

2011-03-31T01:02:00.000-07:00

I made a short comic strip featuring my friend Steven and I, based around a conversation we had in a bookshop yesterday. Click this picture of our pretty faces to see it!

Steven presents a show on Radio Ulster and you should totally listen to it. While you're at it, why not have a listen to last week's Introducing in NI. As well as all the usual musical goodness, I'm on it talking comedy with Lorcan McGrane and Dan and Dan.

HR

The Rules of Eggs

2011-03-25T04:43:00.000-07:00

People who know me might also know that I hate eggs. They're the worstest nastiest things, and the only food that I get really arsey about. There are some eggs that will make me boke upon sight, but there are also a few which I can eat under certain circumstances. Here are the rules of eggs.

Boiled Egg

I can eat a boiled egg if it is very soft. Three minutes on the boil for a large egg. I can only eat the yellow bit though, and I can't peel it or take the top off it myself or I will vomit.

If it is really hard, I will also vomit if I try to eat any of it. On a particularly bad day I might even vomit from looking at it. Even looking at one of those godawful fucking egg slicers will make me feel ill.

Poached Egg

No way, not ever.

Scrambled Egg

I quite like scrambled egg, but only under very precise circumstances. It needs to be made with one very small egg, lots of cheese, milk, salt and pepper and butter. It has to be fried lightly so it is really creamy. I can only have it with lots of worcester sauce or, at a push, lots of brown sauce or tobasco. I most likely won't finish it as I will still start to feel sick after a bit.

Quiche

Fine, if it is a good quality quiche. Has to have some bacon involved as well.

Omelette

Like scrambled eggs, I can really enjoy an omelette, but it has to be under a very strict set of rules. I have to cook meat in the pan first, ideally bacon and chorizo so that it releases lots of salty delicious juices. Then I take out the meat but leave the juices and throw in some thyme and rosemary so it crisps up real quick. Then I take it off the heat and add the eggs, along with the meat, some potato and whatever else I fancy. There has to be loads of stuff in it, to minimise the egg/nice stuff ratio. The egg also has to be whisked up loads, as if the white separates and sits in the omelette in solid chunks, I will vomit.

Then the whole pan goes in the oven, cooked at a really high temperature so it all rises, like a fritatta. Cheese on top, and also some parsley, red onion and lemon. All this takes away from the dirty eggs holding the whole thing together.

Fried Egg

I can handle a fried egg approximately once every two years. It has to be really runny, and I will only dip stuff into the yellow bit as if I eat the white shite I will vomit. If the egg is too hard, I will also vomit. After I have had a few dips, I may need to move the egg off my plate, as it is possible that I could vomit.

Egg in a Cup

Don't be fucking stupid.

And there you go. Now you know how to serve me eggs and not have me vomit all over the place. At least, not from the eggs.

HR

There are no flies on me.

2011-03-22T00:44:00.000-07:00

BECAUSE MY HOUSE IS FULL OF FUCKING SPIDERS!!!!

I'd like to stress that I'm not usually squeamish about our arachnoid friends at all, honest. There never seemed to be many about the house before, and if I spoted one I'd either let him go on his merry way or scoop him up and pop him outside into the flower bed. Friend O' The Spiders.

But that was before The Invasion.

It started on Saturday. I was bringing my bike through the house from the back yard when I spotted a pretty big eight-legger by the stairs. "No problem", thought I, "he's just bolted in from outside". Got a glass, popped it over him, had a wee look, then took him back outside and we both went about our business.

The night after, I was visiting my parents when I received word from my significant other that our living room was under attack. Not only was there a 'flipping massive' spider on the sofa, but there were two giant ones on the carpet. I had a little 'hah, dumb girls!' laugh to myself. It was only a couple of spiders for fucksake.

Then I got a worried email saying that one of them had just EATEN the other one. That creeped me out a little bit. I'd heard before about baby ones chomping on the mammy when they're born - creepy, gross, but a bit understandable. They're hungry. I get hungry. I can dig it. But this octowanker ate another one just to be a DICK! In our fucking HOME! I'm not one to deny folk their vices, but hedonistic cannibalism under my own roof just ain't cool.

But again I dismissed it. Till we got in from the bar last night.

I went to turn out the lamp in the living room and there he was. This huge fat dickhead sitting in the corner of the room, looking smug. Why was he so smug? Maybe something to do with the TWO SPIDER CORPSES BESIDE HIM. Why was he so FAT? I don't think he had the same pizza problem that I do. The cannibal. A fucking cannibal holocaust, in my living room.

Now, maybe I'm overreacting. There's been a grand total of, what, 4 live spiders and a few dead ones? Hardly a real invasion. Still though, that's a LOT for three days. Or is it? I've recently moved out of the city centre, maybe this is what happens in the suburbs? Have I just gotten too used to inner city life?

So what I do, gentle reader? Does this mean there's a freaking nest somewhere in the garden? I don't like to squish 'em, but if they're going to get on like dicks maybe I should consider mass spidercide.

Or maybe I should just learn to love my new flatmates. We could watch Tarantula and Arachnaphobia and have a good oul' laugh together.

But then again, maybe it would give them ideas! I don't wanna end up like Leo G. Carroll. Any advice welcome!

In other news I'm pleased to be doing some live action real life comedy performing at the rebirth of Marcus Keeley's Voicebox club, at the Pavilion next Monday 28th. If the previous incarnation of VB is anything to go by, it's gonna be a madcap evening. It don't come more alternative than this, and its an absoloutely STORMING lineup.

Also, if you find yourself at home (or anywhere else with a radio) this Sunday night, you can hear me doing some radio-ing as my monthly Hot Rod of Comedy segment will be on BBC Introducing on Radio 1 at midnight. This time around it features some chuckles and chat with the brilliant Lorcan McGrane about his forthcoming Black Box show, as well some brilliant songs that one-man-two-piece band and all round lovely chap Dan and Dan played specially for us.

Dan and Dan

If you like reading things that I write that aren't about spiders, I've written a review of last week's Simon Munnery Black Box gig here, and I also have a piece in this month's Vacuum, under a pen-name. If you pick it up, see if you can guess which one it is.

That's all for now, but truly, lemme know your thoughts about this arachnoid debacle. Is there even a debacle, or am I overreacting? Or do I have to go Jon Goodman on their asses? Do spiders have asses?

HR.

The Voyage of the (before) Dawn Treaders

2011-02-22T23:00:00.000-08:00

This week I've been going into work before 6am every day. I work at this time quite a bit. It's a bit of a pain in the ass getting up hours before the crack of dawn, and it means I have to go to bed early, which I'm not fussed on. I like staying up and watching movies whenever I can. But I'm always grateful of the work, and I also like seeing Belfast at this time of day.

Bedford St. 6am

There's something satisfying about seeing the city still asleep and so empty, and then later watching it wake up and seeing the streets come to life. Also interesting is seeing who else is about town so early. Usually not many people, save for a handful of other early workers and all night revellers heading home/continuing on their merry way. I always think it feels like there's an unspoken camaraderie between the few nightwalkers. Anybody up and about at that hour is probably grumpy as fuck and half asleep, myself included, but I still get a good feeling as if we're all in it together. Even the strange old man crossing the road last week who started screaming "FAT BOYS ON THE RADIO" in my face. I'm not sure what he meant, but the poor soul seemed terribly annoyed about it.

Then again, we all have our demons, don't we?

HR

Plug it up, Carrie!

2011-02-10T15:53:00.000-08:00

nice dirty pillows.

Holy smokes, you chaps really seemed to like that haircut stuff! Well, maybe not really liked. But more people 'liked' it than normal. According to the stats, a lot of people in Trinidad and Tobago read it. Are haircuts a big deal out there? Actually I don't know much at all about Trinidad and Tobago. I'll have to learn some facts. I'm very happy that you Trinidadians and Tobagons check it out though!

So yeah, thanks all for the nice response! I also see I have another follower now, bringing me up to a massive 16.

This isn't exactly a 'real' post, I just wanted to say thanks for digging my shit, and also to plug a couple of things I've done recently (hence the Carrie). First of all, I wrote a review of the Rubberbandits gig at Stiff Kitten for Culture NI. You can read that here.

Also, last week's Introducing in NI is now on the BBC iPlayer. I'm on it with my Hot Rod of Comedy (a bit where I talk about comedy, natch), along with Marcus Keeley and Ruaidhri Ward. We're having a chat about their new night in the Menagerie (which really is fupping awesome). I was pleased because I got to say a line in the style of Weird Wink Wilkinson (see below), so that was cool. I'm about 27 minutes in, although you should really just treat yourself and listen to the whole thing. Anyway, it's here.

Well, that's about it. A bit of shameless self plugging I know, so to reward you for your patience and kindness, here is a great wee comic strip about my favourite topic, robots becoming sentient.

Also, here's a fun link where you can make your own version of that wank "Barbra Streisand" song.

Oh, if you like what you read here, why not think about clicking 'follow' up to the right there. It doesn't seem to be of much practical use, but I'd really like it if I had 20 followers. I think that would finally make me a happy man.

That's all for now, have a great weekend!

Haircut 100

2011-02-09T04:25:00.000-08:00

I got a haircut this morning.

It's such a strange ritual, and one that I don't do as often as I probably should, which makes it even stranger for me. I'm a pretty confident guy, and I don't usually have any problems with stuff like this, but the barber makes me go really weird and neurotic, because I just don't really know what I'm doing there.

Here are some things that I picked up on during my time at the barber, which threw me a little. I wasn't sure on the protocol, can someone tell me the correct procedure please? I'd particularly like to hear from anyone who works or has worked as a barber/hairdresser.

EDIT: This is a lot longer and wordier than I intended, I got carried away. So be warned.

1. I got offered a drink.

I went for the tea. There was a well stocked beer fridge, but I was going to work after. That and it was 10am, and probably would've been frowned upon. I thought I was being given the drink to have while I waited, but I was seated in the barber's chair immediately, the tea set down in front of me beside the mirror.

It was very nice of them, but I didn't understand the protocol.... was I meant to just sit forward and sip the tea whenever I wanted? Wouldn't that make them fuck up my hair? Or was I meant to ask permission? I don't think I'd like that. In the end, I just left it there. About 1 minute into the haircut, the chap asked if I wanted to 'get that tea'. I wasn't sure if he meant to just have a sip, or down it in one, or balance it on my lap. I took a sip, and then left it there for the remainder of the time. It wasn't mentioned again. I intended on having it upon completion, as I quite like cold tea and there was a tasty looking biscuit with it, but I forgot.

I'm hungry now, I wish I'd had the biscuit.

Not this Biscuit.

2. The terminology.

The first thing I was asked, of course, was what way I wanted my hair. This ALWAYS throws me, I don't know what to say! I'm not a barber, I don't know the lingo, and feel like a dork when I start using slightly made up words. I used to always just get my head buzzed with the buzzer, because you can go in and say 'number 2 all over!' and know exactly what you're getting and not have to worry about anything at all. Plus I like the feel of it. But I've started to recede a bit, and I like to have a more sensible haircut anyway.

So instead, I say something like this:

"Erm, can I have it trimmed at the back and sides, like, with the scissors... not the... uh... buzzer thing... and then a bit longer on top, sort of brushed back and to the side and... uh... kinda.... quiffy.... I like it sorta quiffy... but... I mean not QUIFFY, just.... quiffy.... uh.... I don't know, whatever you think".

I don't like that. It makes me feel like I don't have a clue what I want, even though I do, I just don't know how to describe it. It makes me think that everyone there is thinking, 'This jerk has no control over his life, he doesn't even know what way he wants his hair! HA! What a loser'.

Should I bring a photograph? I don't like doing that. They laughed when I brought in one of James Dean once, although they did cut my hair like James Dean's and it did look totally cool, so maybe that would be a good thing to do again. I think it looks a bit weird doing that though.

Another time, they got me on the computer and asked if I wanted to use google image search, but I just typed in 'quiffy' and felt like even more of a dick than before.

3. The Chat

This is the obvious bit that bothers a lot of people, so I won't linger on it. I like a bit of chat sometimes (but not always), and I was in the mood for it today. Although it started getting a bit weird and sweary and I wasn't sure if that was normal. But I joined in and got a bit sweary too, which was fun. I always thought of the barber as somewhere to be very polite, like a doctor or dentist, but maybe I've got it wrong and it's more like a gym changing room or something?

My friend Joe says that it would be good if you could specify whether you want 'talking or non talking' barbers and taxi drivers. That would be great. I wonder if it could realistically be done without offending people. Maybe some day in the future this will be the norm.

For some reason I also realised I was talking in a really deep voice, I'm not sure why. Maybe it was just the acoustics of the place.

4. The Haircut

Once I've said my piece at the start, I tend not to intervene too much during the haircut itself. I figure its already pre-ordained whether its going to be a good cut or not, and is in the hands of the hairdresser/barber. Sometimes I get freaked out in the middle that too much is being taken off, but my reasoning behind keeping quiet is that they will have a plan and I don't want to mess with it, or else I'll just end up looking silly.

This sometimes ends up with me getting haircuts that aren't quite what I wanted, but usually they're pretty good. Also, it means that I can blame the barber if its shit, and not myself for interrupting and making him change it all.

Today's cut is a good cut, I think. A nice touch was that the chap left it kinda feathered at the back, rather than 'squaring it off'. I've always thought that looks a bit shit if the front if left kinda brushed back and windswept (I don't like that word), as it doesn't match up. The guy said exactly that, and I was pretty pleased.

Maybe I know more about haircuts than I thought.

5. The Beard

I haven't let the hairdresser touch my beard in ten years. Until today!

I figure, everyone's facial hair is different and certainly mine grows thicker in some places than others. So I've always done it at home myself, because there's no way they're going to know where to trim more than others, and if they do it just uniform all over it could be a bit patchy in places.

But I've misplaced my beard trimmer when moving house (it must be in a box or bag at my folks' house, I think), and I was well overdue a trim. Also, after the haircut was finished, my beard looked MASSIVE as I got the hair pretty tight at the side. Combined with the fact that I was going straight on to work, this meant I was going to have to get the beard done.

Long story short, it was ace. I got to lean way back and got a hot towel over my eyes that smelled very nice, like t-tree oil I think. I'm not too sure why this was, but I liked it. The guy worked away, he started with a number 2 buzzer, but he said it 'wasn't taking much off', so he did 1.5 instead. I was enjoying the towel, so I didn't really mind, and figured that it would grow back pretty quickly anyway.

After this, he finished off around my mouth (no jokes please) with scissors and a really tiny wee buzzer. This was a nice touch, I'd wondered if he would do that and was happy when he did. He also used a cutthroat for the edges. Nice.

The end result was indeed slightly patchy, but I really had a good time with the eye-towel, so didn't mind. He also rubbed my whole face after with another towel. It sounds a bit weird, but it was very relaxing.

I think I might go in to get my beard done every fortnight, just to get the towel treatment. It was totally relaxing, and also functional. I was more relaxed after that than after getting a massage, which is a completely different story*. I also like the idea of being a beard-regular at a barber, it seems like something a gentleman should be doing.

6. The Pay

The final challenge.

After getting brushed down and everything, it was time to pay.
It came to £23.90, which I was pretty pleased with because the whole thing took well over an hour (maybe more) and the guy had been really good. There was a lot of attention to detail, and he even took my coat and hung it up and the start, and put it back on me afterwards and everything. That meant a lot to me, even though I felt a bit weird having him put my coat on for me, I didn't want him to think I was trying to act like some sort of big timer. But it was nice.

I was paying by card, and he'd put it through and everything and I was halfway through putting in my PIN before I remembered - the tip. Are you meant to tip? I think maybe you're meant to tip. I know the time before I gave £2, and I figured because it was £23.90 I should maybe have told him to round it up to £25.

But I'd already started to put in the PIN, and anyway if I was paying by card surely the money would just go to the till and if I was tipping him, I'd want the money to go to HIM. Nobody else there took my jacket or paid extra attention to my moustache, or listened to my quiffy bullshit.

I had no change either, so I just headed on. There was nothing else I could do. I felt pretty bad at the time, like I'd cheated him. But then I started to think that maybe that was silly and that it was his job to be doing all the good stuff that he did anyway, regardless of tips. Maybe there isn't even meant to be a tip, but I thought there was.

Is there meant to be a tip? I think it's maybe a grey area. Like taxis.

Anyway, that's the story of my haircut. I tried to take a picture of it earlier, when I was standing at the traffic lights, because I didn't really stick around to get a good look in the mirror at the barber and I wanted to make sure that it was looking fly before I went into work!

Sadly, the green man came on as I was taking the photograph, and I also realised I looked like a complete dick taking a photo of myself in the middle of the street. So I moved my head, and my eyes. The resulting photo was pretty funny though and gave me a giggle, so here it is.

I'm not going to put it on Facebook, it's a blog exclusive!

Thanks for reading. Lemme know your thoughts on haircuts!

*I ended up getting my bottom slapped. I didn't care for it. Although the rest was great!

A witty exchange.

2011-02-02T03:02:00.000-08:00

Just overheard this at work, while "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da" by the Police was on the radio.

Colleague 1: "I wonder who thought up words like that!"

Colleague 2: "Sting?"

It made me laugh a lot.

It's my birthday today, thanks an awful lot to everyone who sent me birthday wishes via telephone call, text message, email, facebook, twitter and face to face! And a massive thank you to everyone who made my celebrations at the weekend extra special.

I'm going to my parents' house for dinner later and I think they have maybe got me a camera for a birthday present, so if they have then I'll start posting a lot more pictures here.... I don't normally, because I've been relying on the crapping camera on my phone and they look pretty shit.

Thanks!

HR.

Stats.

2011-01-27T04:20:00.000-08:00

I got a bit curious about how many people read this blog, so I finally had a wee nosey at the stats.

I was quite pleased to find out that a lot more people visit it than I thought, which makes me think I should start writing stuff of a bit more worth. Not today though.

When I delved a bit deeper into the belly of the stats, I found out exactly where most people got directed here from. Facebook had the top spot, not much of a surprise, I link it up there quite a lot. Very closely behind that was Google, not surprising either, third place was NI Comedy. All makes sense. Other sites included Twitter, a few other search engines and a handful of miscellaneous other sites.

Bizarrely however, a fairly huge number of people arrived here from tattoodesignsvault.com. I don't really understand, does this mean that they have a link to my blog somewhere on their site? Who are they? WHY would they?! Is there someone out there with a tattoo of my face? I can only hope. That's when you know when you've hit the bigtime. If anybody wants a tattoo of my face, I'd be happy to design one.

Even weirder than that are the search keywords that have directed people here. I'm assuming these are the words/phrases that people have typed into Google or Alta Vista (if it's the 90s) or whatever, which have subsequently suggested that my site might supply them with the data they are after.

I assumed it would most likely be stuff like 'NI comedians', 'belfast bloggers', etc, etc. Granted, there are things like that there, but also some slightly offbeat stuff. Here are a few choice ones.

a cartoon with dinosaurs loving nachos

This one seemed pretty sweet to me at first. I liked the way it was written, 'dinosaurs loving nachos'. Not just eating them, LOVING them. I had visions of a wee'un making up invitations to his birthday party, which might have a Mexican theme, looking for clipart. And everyone knows dinosaurs are the coolest, so having them really having a brilliant time with some nachos would be amazing, so that made me smile.

But then I started thinking about what else it might mean. Just exactly how literally should I be taking the word 'loving'? I remember seeing a bit of an awful blue movie once with a big dinosaur waving his ridiculously enlarged dino-wanger about the place. Combine that with some nacho cheese and you've got a horrible mess, not to mention dangerously spikey crumbs. Although with a dinosaur's thick reptilian skin, wangercrumbs might not be too much of a concern. Still though, unhygienic at best.

Hopefully that was just my rotten mind boking up nonsense, but giving the next search keywords, I'm not sure.....

80s masturbation

To the person looking forward to getting their rocks off to a lady playing a keytar with no hands, I'm sorry. Your search continues.

conventional use

masturbation theatre

Similar to the above. Again, I feel cruel for leaving someone sorely disappointed, but it did get me thinking about cool imaginary DVD titles like 'Thespian Lesbians' or 'ENTER stage right'. Or maybe 'The Bard Gets Hard'. If you have any more, please stick them in the comments bit!

"household bleach"

I like to think this person was somebody down on their luck, just lost their job, their partner, their home. Looking online for information on suicide. Then they read my cool shit and it made them happy to be alive. Or maybe it pushed them over the edge. But maybe now they're a spooky ghost, and ghosts are almost as cool as dinosaurs. So if you're now a spooky ghost, no need to thank me, the pleasure was all mine.

If you're someone who stumbled upon this site completely by accident, I'd love to hear from you. I'm here to provide a service, so if you didn't get what you were after, I'll try my hardest to help you out. As long as its within the confines of the law.

Oh, if you're in Belfast and looking for something wicked to do tonight, I would thoroughly reccomend going to this.

HR

All grown up.

2011-01-25T23:06:00.000-08:00

Nearly a month into 2011 and I haven't put a single thing up here, so I thought I should.

It's been a weird few weeks... a seemingly endless ammount of shit hit the fan when moving out of my last place (which flooded, see previous post), but now I'm all settled in a really cool place a bit further out of town. It's real nice, so that's good news. Again, massive thanks to everyone who helped us out over the past few weeks.

Hooray for the SUPER FRIENDS!

This year's been pretty good so far, and there have been some amazing party times. Oh, it's my birthday soon, so I'll be going out for that at the weekend. I usually try not to let birthdays phase me, but being closer to 30 than 20 is a little bit spooky. Not that spooky though, I'm used to feeling like a very old man. In light of that, I've been trying to be a bit more grown up - I got a smartlink bus pass thing, and last week my friend Steven came round for a very sophisticated evening. It was great, after dinner we sat up real late watching Robocop and pontificating about comics.

Maybe not that grown up after all.

Sheer sophistication.

There's not a whole lot else I wanna say, so here's a video which made me chuckle, as well has stirring up some old feelings of frustration.

I guess that's all for now, I'll stick some more interesting stuff here soon. If you like to read the things that I write, maybe you should click the 'like' button below, or even the 'follow' button on the right. It only takes a second and you'd make a happy man very old.

I'll also be in this month's issue of AU along with some other cool comedyish people, talking to Andrew Johnston about cool comedyish stuff, so keep an eye out for that if you think it might be your cup of tea.

HR

Water feeling....

2010-12-27T05:02:00.000-08:00

.... when it's dripping from the ceiling.

I woke up this morning at my folks' house to a phonecall from my better half saying that our flat was (to paraphrase) fucked. We'd both been away visiting family over the Christmas holidays, and were planning on heading back to our place today, she beat me to it and walked straight into what can only be described as an indoor monsoon. Now I know how all those poor families felt after being struck by the robbers in Home Alone.

Standing in the kitchen, bedroom or bathroom is truly like standing in a rainstorm, and the bedroom roof in particular is right on the verge of caving in.

I'd planned on writing a blog this morning summarising 'my' 2010, but dealing with this catastrophe rather took over. Tonight we're gonna stay at my folks' house, then from tomorrow I think we're pretty much going to have to spend a few nights staying on sofas and in spare rooms until the landlord can get us into a temporary property (which we'll likely be in for at least a month).

It's a shitty state of affairs, but rather reinforces what I'd planned on writing in this here blog anyway. 2010 had its peaks and troughs (of course it did, such is life), but I found myself surrounded throughout by the Greatest Bunch of Lads to grace God's green earth.

Not only have my oldest pals been nothing short of class as always, but I've become good pals with some utterly amazing people as well, and we've had some brilliant adventures. I hope you know who you are. If you think I might mean you, I'm sure I do.

Since I heard about the bollocks-up with the house this morning, I've already received a bunch of calls, texts, emails, etc from concerned people offering sofas and spare rooms and even one brilliant fella offering his own bed to Jemma and I. Some of the offers of places to stay have come from people that we know but don't really know all that well, and that's just an absoloutely amazing show of kindness. We'll quite likely take you up on your offers this week and if we do we'll at least bring some choccies and wine.

In short, 2010's been pretty goddamn class thanks to all you great people, and when it's been rubbish you've all helped make it much, much better. For those of you I haven't seen enough of this year, I really want to rectify that right away.

So, thank you very much indeed, you're great. I hope you had a fantastic Christmas and I hope you have a great New Year. Talking of which, if you're at Palookaville for New Year's Eve, we'll have some fun together then!

Oh and thank you as always to fabulous Jemma and my fabulous parents, for being fabulous as always. I'm off to try and put a roof over our heads.... after I have a glass of wine and listen to the Adam and Joe Christmas Special.

Sorry about the lack of teh funneh!

HR.

Merry Christmas everyone.

2010-12-25T12:40:00.001-08:00

I just want to experiment with my new toy to be honest, although I'm long overdue a good oul' blog post so before the year is out i'll have something interesting for you. A round-up or summat.

Hope you and yours had a great day.

HR.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Newtownards,United Kingdom

True Grit.

2010-12-05T00:27:00.001-08:00

It's about this time of the year that the first 'big freeze' happens, and local media goes farcking nuts over it. And its great for all the moaning motherfuckers who are so disgusted that they might actually have to get off their hoop and do something themselves about ice on their driveway/pavement/shop front that they will try and make absoloutely anybody else take responsibility for it.

Me, I'm completely sick of people complaining non-stop about how the gritting should be done by someone else, and how it's a 'shame and a disgrace' that it hasn't been done yet.... if you CAN do it yourself, get off yer hole and fucking do it.

If you know someone down the street who CAN'T do it themself, go and be an actual person and fucking do it for them, rather than waiting for the DRD/DOE to come and do it for your lazy arse.

You don't have any grit? Don't fucking phone the Nolan Show and complain that there isn't any there already. Phone the council. They'll bring you some.

Jesus, take some motherfucking responsibility.

Adam and Joe: What Does This Mean?

2010-11-26T02:44:00.000-08:00

I love Adam and Joe. I frankly don't think I'd be the man I am today without Cornballs and Bucules. I grew up watching Shock Video and the Adam and Joe Show whenever I was probably far too young, and I was sad whenever their show finished. Then I rejoiced when specials like Go Tokyo and Fourmative Years came on. Then I was sad when there was no Adam and Joe on TV at all.

Then there was the XFM radio show and it was great, then there was the 6Music show and it was GREAT. Like, the best thing that ever happened ever, ever type great. I looked forward to it every week, and listened to the podcasts over and over again. I still am in fact, I've no radio in my car at the minute, so whenever I'm going on a journey that's longer than 15 minutes I'll pop my phone on the dashboard and play old A&J podcasts as loud as its wee speaker can muster. I know them all pretty much word for word now and they still make me laugh.

Without sounding like too much of a massive soppy wabbo, that 6 music show helped me get through some times that weren't the funnest of times, and it helped make some of the funnest of times even funner. So I was super duper sad about this time last year whenever the pair announced that they were on hiatus for the forseeable future, but would return.

I've kept my peepers scouring the internetz for any clue of when they might return to the airwaves. A while back on his blog, Buckles made some reference to the show coming back in November. Oh baby! Well, it's November now (nearly December), and still no sign of return. Well until a couple of days ago when this video was posted on their 6music site:

Holy smokes! Adam and Joe back for Christmas Day? What a great present! Lorra lorra! But hang on... what were those subtleties thrown in there.... 'for one last time' ?!? What?? Is this just a one off? One last goodbye?

Oh please, say it ain't so.

I know the only reason that they wouldn't be back doing a weekly show is that they're both busy with their own wonderful brilliant things, and that's fantastic. But I'm really a very selfish man.

Come back chaps.

Things wot dun happened.

2010-11-22T09:28:00.000-08:00

The Continental Christmas Market is in town.

The Pope thinks jonnies are maybe sometimes ok but not really.

I'm still totally shit at changing bedsheets.

I have nothing creative to offer from my own brain as it hasn't woken up this week yet. So I nuck this from b3ta.com. It is by a person called Paper 'n Pencil, apparently.

Another 'drawing'.

2010-11-18T01:19:00.000-08:00

Not a massive amount of creativity goes into these, but I think they look cool against this nice black background.

Renegade:

(I'm not really going to give them as presents y'know. But I might give toilet roll.)

Intangible presents.

2010-11-17T02:50:00.000-08:00

It was my friend's birthday recently. I didn't get a present as he kept it secret. So secret that I was at the birthday party without even knowing it was a birthday party!

But I felt I should give something, so I made this.

Would it be feasable for me to give intangible presents like this to everyone for Christmas?

Probably not.

My love affair...

2010-11-16T23:15:00.000-08:00

...with this.

Andrex Shea Butter, my sweet, sweet mistress.

Billed as a 'multisensory experience' with a 'feel of luxury', this baby puts the 'oooh' into pooing. It's so damn sexy that designer Ayton Gasson released tie-in limited edition Shea Butter knickers. Srlsy. This roll's decadent plies really put the 'lush' into 'flushing' (I can go on all day).

Sure, I've fooled around with other toilet rolls. One night stands with various scented numbers. In fact, right now I'm having something of a menage-a-trois with Andrex's "Winter" Limited Edition roll and my beloved Shea Butter. But the thrill will wear off soon, and when the excitement is gone, I know who I'll be sticking with.

As true as all this is, it may sound daft. It's only bog roll, right?

Wrong!

It's fucking important. When I retire to my favourite room after a stressful day, to do that thing we all love to do, I want to enjoy it. Why unnecessarily tear your hole asunder with cheapo or (shudder) recycled boggy?

This isn't a snobbish thing or anything, and I know Shea Butter is an expensive roll. But I'm by no means a rich man, quite the opposite in fact. There have been instances where I've been too broke to afford it as well as proper food, and I've chosen the roll. Really.

I'm not saying that everyone else should do this, and of course people with families to look after etc. have to splash out for extra loo roll. But, where possible, do treat yourself to something soft 'n' nice. Toilet time is one aspect of our lives that we all should have complete control over - while things in the outside world can be going fucking nuts, its nice to know that you can still have the pleasure of going home and having an absoloutely smashing time in the bathroom.

It doesn't have to be Shea Butter either - find the best roll for you. If you want to save some benjamins, Sainsbury do great own brand equivalents of most of the Andrex range for a hell of a lot cheaper, and if scents are your thing M&S do a lovely heather scented number. I know a man who combines the latter with SB in a bogroll mashup which is so heavenly it could probably raise a person to a higher level of consciousness.

Maybe you're as happy and as in love with your roll as me. I truly hope you are. But if you think things could be better in that department I implore you, try it. Chuck out the cheap crap. If you don't want to waste it, make some Papier-mâché or something. Make a mummy costume, anything.... just get it the hell away from your hole.

If you buy that recycled nonsense to minimise your global footprint (horrible turn of phrase), ease your conscience by throwing some shit in a bottle bank or something. Your bum is more important. And you can still find fun ways to recycle the paper tube.

Clicky here for deets.

So g'wan, just do it. Out with the old, in with the new. If you don't like it, or don't notice the difference, fine. But I would wager that when you find that perfect roll, your life will change for the better in ways that you won't even possibly believe!

Be good to your arse, you only get one.

(unless you're some kind of multi-arsed freak, in which case, I'm sorry)

I twisted some words.

2010-11-16T10:07:00.000-08:00

It's a channel 4 viral advertising thing. It's fun.

Try it yourself here.

EDIT:

Another masterpiece.

Genius? Icky? Wanky?

2010-11-15T00:38:00.000-08:00

I can't decide. Probably a mixture of all three.

Click the picture to find out what the hell I'm talking about.

The Love Glove is not a sex toy.

2010-11-14T23:59:00.000-08:00

Or a prothylactic, for that matter, no matter how much it sounds like one.

Nope, it's a special mitten, designed for lovers who want to hold hands but keep toasty warm at the same time. A picture speaks a thousand words, so here's one below, complete with action shots:

Now, my question to you... am I bang out of order?

At first, everything about this sounded rotten to me. Everything. Absoloutely abhorrent.

I'm not adverse to a bit of lovely ol' handholding, but the idea of someone who couldn't bear to walk down the street without feeling the bare flesh of their significant other irked me. I don't really know why, but it did.

Thinking about somebody getting ready to leave the house, and then uttering the sentence, 'don't forget the love glove!' also irked me. Again, I don't know why, but it really did.

Then I started thinking about the flaws in the system.... does it come with two other matching gloves? If not, are the unloved hands bare to the elements unless jammed in pockets?

And what happens when you go into a shop? Is the love glove stuffed into a pocket? IT'S TOO BULKY! Or is one person left with it flapping off their fist like a long wooly foreskin? (Sorry, it made me feel gross too).

Yes, true believer, I was irked.

But then I started thinking... is the problem not with the smitten-mitten (copyright of Hotrod and a better name), but with me?

I'm worried now, am I an awful person? Does the fact that I think that the glove thing is totally icky make me.... hate Love?

Please, tell me.... am I right in thinking that this contraption fucking awful? Or is it perfectly sweet and a nice wee accessory to have at winter? I'm really, truly worried that I'm the one being the asshole here.

Please.....

Am I out of order?

Female masturbation was big in the 80s....

2010-11-13T11:29:00.000-08:00

... apparently.

Click the awesome pic for video (embedding was disabled)

And then there's this! Getting all hot under the collar/knicks over a big oul' tower. And wasn't that girl really young?!

The 80s were class.

Too much coffee makes me weird and angry.

2010-11-12T06:22:00.000-08:00

It really does, I should know better... I've been horsing it by the gallon and now I feel like I'm living on another plane of existence. One where I think everyone is out to get me and my breath smells like shit. But damn, I've needed it - what a week. Jeez, it was meant to be so quiet, but ended up involving a lot of work and a fair amount of play. I'm completely and utterly exhausted.

I think that's about all I have to say about that.

My wee radio slot was on this week, it's part of BBC Introducing with Rory McConnell on BBC Radio 1 and Radio Ulster. You can listen to it HERE, but only until next Wednesday. So if you're reading this in the distant future (ie. a week), that link ain't gonna work. Or maybe it will, but it'll take you somewhere else.

Anyhoo, you should enjoy the whole thing, but if you're desperate to hear my big boomy voice then skip ahead to about 1hr29mins. Joined this month by phenomenally talented and all round great fucking guy Lorcan McGrane. It's fellas like him (and of course many, many, many others) that make the local 'scene' worthwhile.

Also this week, I reviewed the Darwin Deez gig in the Limelight for Culture NI. There's his face below, click it to see what I thought of the sounds coming out of it.

There's a like button there too... click it if you like this. If you don't, I'm sorry and I'll try harder.

Have a great weekend.

Lazy blogging (more junko pictures)

2010-11-09T02:02:00.000-08:00

Gonna clear out some space on this computer, but I don't wanna totally lose some of these pictures so I'll stick 'em up here and hope that the host disnae take them down. Again, apologies for not offering credit where credit's due for the ones of these that aren't mine. But I can't remember whos they are. Anything you want taken down, lemme know. Enjoy!

click this one for biggo.

If you like this, click that shit down there.

It's good to listen to...

2010-11-08T10:38:00.000-08:00

... Robyn G Shiels.

Also, I just made my parents a sausage and apple cobbler to be a nice son. They liked it.

(that's nothing to do with Robyn, as far as I'm aware)

Relaxing the right cheek.

2010-11-07T22:24:00.000-08:00

I had a wee trip away this weekend, to Rathmullan House in Donegal. It's a great place, reminds me of the mansion that the asshole in "Three Men and a Baby" owns.

I turned my phone off, enjoyed a few day-whiskeys, ate some goddamn fantastic food, caught up on some reading, went for walks and poked about in rock pools. One big lovely slice of chill cake.

Hermit crab. Probably my favourite guy in the rock pool.

In a moment (read, hour) of extreme decadence, I ran a big deep bath and manoeuvred the television in my room so I could simultaneously soak and watch sick-inducing* John Ritter vehicle, "Problem Child", also featuring a vile wee bastard of a kid who's real name is (unsurprisingly) Michael Oliver Ponce. Terrible viewing, but sometimes you just need a shite film. Not even so-bad-its-good type shite, just shite type shite. Mmmmm. Shite.

At least Michael Richards was in it, in murderous Pee-Wee Herman mode.

Mr. Richards receives the first draft of the script.

*Quite literally.... last time I watched it, I was nine years old and it was so bad it made me feel sick. So sick that I got on my bike and returned it to Ards Video Library.

As well as all this class stuff, I also got a massage. This was only the second massage I've ever had, and I was a bit nervous about it. Not as nervous as last time, but nervous nonetheless. I can't imagine I'd be alone in my massage worries... Was I being a big girls' blouse? Was I going to turn into a dreamcatcher-having hippieman? What if I started laughing and couldn't stop? Then there's all the 'classic' massage concerns.

This isn't the clip I wanted, but it is from that episode. The one I wanted was on youtube as well, but I didn't particularly want "LD GETS A HANDJOB" appearing on my history.

Of course, these concerns were all completely and utterly daft, and it was great, apart from being left with a few bruises. Although one slightly strange repeat occurrance throughout was being told to 'relax the right cheek', and then being vigorously slapped about the posterior until I did so. If you can relax your arse while a relative stranger whacks it, you're a better person than I.

Arse-banter aside, it was fantastic, chilled me the hell out and I couldn't reccomend it highly enough. Apparently I'm also in way better shape than last time, which was nice to hear.

Now it's a cold Monday morning, and I've been at work for hours before sunrise. Although I quite like the dark mornings, and I really like dark afternoons. Every year I get super surprised when it starts getting dark at 4pm... "What? Seriously? FOUR?!". It's great. Crisp dark walks, hot toasty fires, mulled booze and stews.

I also wore gloves this morning because it was so chilly, then got worried that I looked like a murderer.

Entirely unrelated picture.

And even though I had to go to work crazy early, there's a new water cooler. So every cloud, I suppose. Although the claim that it dispenses sparkling water seems to be a lie, unless sparkling means 'not fizzy but tastes a bit like wee'.

This week should be nice though. I'm going to l'etoile for dinner tomorrow with some wicked peoples for big wodges of meat and way too much red wine, I'm hoping to hook up with some old friends for big pints at some point, and on Thursday I'm MCing this fundraiser that I mentioned before.

Hopefully I'll be able to let the big chill from last weekend keep me going at work. I'll be trying my hardest to keep the right cheek relaxed as fuck.

Oh, I have a 'like' button now. I'm not totally certain what happens when you click it, but I think you want to click it. Click it.

Pissy, pissy, pissy day.

2010-11-04T03:55:00.000-07:00

Pissy week actually. A proper shitter of such epic proportions that I'm wondering which particular evil deed of mine has resulted in such minging karma. I wrote a big long post there moaning about the specifics, but deleted it all as I don't really want this to turn into a grotty little cyber-bitching den for my mind-sputum. Well, not any more than it already is.

So instead I'm just going to go through the 'My Pictures' folder on this computer and post a few highlights. Its full of old junk... like, thousands of weird images. A lot of it I don't even recall where it came from or what I have it for. But I'm hoping it'll give both me and you a couple of chuckles. Some of them will probably be mine and some of them just silly crap I've found or been sent. Probably mostly the latter, and a lot of the funnies in here won't be my work, but I'm not sure whos they are to credit them.

click this one for biggie.

Pissrod.

Word(s) to the motherfucker.

2010-11-04T03:02:00.000-07:00

Some people are having difficulty with the Crave Magazine online viewer when using certain browsers, so here are screen grabs of three of my articles. You can click the thumbnails below to view 'em properly.

Although you really should check out the whole magazine here.

Confessions of a Gorehound

Excuse My Language, or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Status Update

Old Man Hotrod's Place

The shop beside me has started selling peanut butter M&Ms...

2010-11-03T04:37:00.001-07:00

... and it's going to be the death of me. I'm guzzling a packet of them right now, right before my lunch. Reminded me of this:

"You know, I tell ya, I gotta say that I'm enjoying adulthood. For a lot of reasons. And, I'll tell you reason number one: as an adult, if I want a cookie, I have a cookie, okay?

I have three cookies or four cookies, or eleven cookies if I want. Many times I will intentionally ruin my entire appetite. Just ruin it. And then, I call my mother up right after to tell her that I did it. "Hello, Mom? Yeah, I just ruined my entire appetite.. cookies."

So what if you ruin it? See, because as an adult, we understand even if you ruin an appetite, there's another appetite coming right behind it. There's no danger in running out of appetites. I've got millions of them, I'll ruin them whenever I want!"

- Jerry Seinfeld

I'm forever baffled as to why the sweet market here has largely left peanut butter alone. It's goddamn delicious with pretty much anything, but combine it with some chocolate and you know what you've got there? A fucking affinity. Like beer and sandwiches, or coffee and cigarettes.

Well, that's them done. Now time for venison. Srsly!

Fatrod.

Oh, if you like to read things that I write then you can read one of those very things right here. You do need to sign up, but it's a nice quick one and you can skip the validate email address stuff. It's actually a bit of a re-hash of an old blog post, with added bitterness and a tasty bit of tasty Jake Wilson.

I also wrote a thing for the last issue too, which is now offline (as far as I know), so I'll put a little screen capture of it below. Click for biggy (biggie?).

Also, I'll be doing some standing up for a good cause at this thing, along with Lorcan McGrane, Shane Horan, Lauren Kerr and some wicked bands. I haven't heard Rabid Bitch of the North yet, but I've been a long time admirer of their name, and the NWONWOBHM tag certainly appeals to me. Come.

Mushroomgate: The Reponse

2010-09-29T05:05:00.000-07:00

If any of you read my previous post, you'll have seen my tirade that I wrote to M&S, following a mediocre casserole. While they didn't make good on their 'reply within 24 hours' promise, they did get back to me eventually. This morning, in fact.

Unfortunately, to my chagrin, the response was painfully dull and perfectly reasonable. I'd hoped for something a little bit more fun, but Cheggers can't be boozers.

Anyhoo, here it is. Enjoy. Or not.

Dear Mr McCaughan

I am sorry to hear that you were disappointed with the quantity of the mushrooms in the Steak, Ale and Mushroom Casserole you bought from us recently.

As you can imagine, we take the quality of our food extremely seriously. We agree stringent quality controls with all our food suppliers and we follow up with regular visits to their premises to be sure that everything is up to standard.

I’m most concerned by what you tell us and would like to report this to our Food Department. It would be really helpful if you could return any available product packaging to your local store, with your receipt if you still have it. Our staff there will offer you a refund, and will be able to capture the information necessary for us to take steps to identify what went wrong.

I am also concerned to hear of the poor service you have received in the Forestside store.
It was extremely useful to receive your email, the comments of which I forwarded to our store management team. Your comments have helped us identify how we must, and will, do better.
Friendly, helpful and courteous service is a priority at M&S and I am sorry that we let you down. We want you to always feel welcome whenever you visit any of our stores, and to receive the excellent standard of service you rightly expect.

We always welcome and appreciate any customer comments which help us to improve our service, so thank you again for getting in touch.

Kind Regards

Geraint Saunders

Marks & Spencer Customer

It's Good for What Steak and Ales Ya.

2010-09-22T07:57:00.000-07:00

Hullo!

It's been a while since I've written a blog. A lot has happened. There was Popefest for one, sparking off a tidal wave of vitriol from both staunch religious groups (and individuals) as well as militant atheist groups (and individuals). The most life affirming yet paradoxically CRUSHINGLY DEPRESSING thing about it all is the obvious fact that both sides of the wibbly grey fence, no matter how far apart, are more alike than they think and can both be total ballbags. United in nincompoopery. The yin to each others' yang. The bell to each others' ends. Ad nauseum.

Image by user "Lend Me Your Eyes" on b3ta.com

But enough about such trivial global matters. What about me? Well, thanks for asking. I've been quite busy with moving house, doing plenty of extra curricular non-day-job work and saying goodbye to the end of the summer.

It's all been quite good.... aside from some dickhead neighbours, the new place is lovely. There's a big open fireplace, loads of room for all my junk and some outdoor storage for my Man Tools. I also have enough cupboard space to fully indulge my OCD kitchen habits, and now have all my larder items arranged to perfection with equal spacing. I haven't told my significant other yet, but I'm planning on alphabetising at the weekend. It's going to be GREAT.

"Why the FUCK are the Coriander seeds and the Cardamom pods next to the Star anise and the Saffron?!?"

The extra work has included a bit of writing, and acting (ha!) in a forthcoming online advertisement for a certain billboard company. I don't think I'm meant to reveal too much, so I'll just stick up a couple of blurry stills I took on set from my phone.

On set at the ACME factory.

Nothing cures a fear of heights like being hoisted into the clowds at 7am on a Saturday morning.

I've also started a new movie night called Sunday Sinema and its in Laverys Bunker. I don't want to use this blog to smash you around the face with endless plugs for my shit, so all I'm gonna say is that if you think you might like the sound of it, clicky the above for the Facebook page. Oh, and big thanks to Holzfeuer of Arnocorps for all the help.

I mentioned earlier that I spent some time saying goodbye to the end of the summer. This, of course, meant the usual slew of barbeques, parties, camping, walks, et cetera as well as a fantastic fishing trip with some good ol' boys.

Daithi and friend. And my green belly. Photo by "Papa Stevesy" Rainey.

But now it's time for Autumn, and I can't wait. In fact, I believe today is the equinox, so I'm right on the ball with this one. But yesirree, Autumn is indeed a Great Bunch of Lads. Mulled cider, Catherine wheels, sparklers in gloved hands in the dark crisp night, Samhain albums, picking blackberries, carving turnips, hearty roast dinners, rosemary and thyme, stews and spiced fruit tarts - brilliant! And at the risk of sounding like a Nightmare Before Christmas obsessed fourteen year old girl, Halloween really is one of my absoloute favourite times of the year.

Danzig loves writing his name with sparklers the BEST!

Talking of hearty meals, I noticed yesterday that M&S have brought in a new range of microwaveable casseroles and stews (presumably for the same reasons I mentioned them myself). Of course, I bought one to sample. It was quite good, but was missing a certain something. So on my lunch break today, I sent them the following email. It's not massively entertaining to read or anything and I'm certainly no David Thorne. I wasn't even trying to be funny, or a dick, but I thought I'd stick it up here anyway. I hope they get back to me soon:

To whom it may concern,

Last night I purchased a microwavable "Steak, Ale & Mushroom Casserole". I was rather certain that I hadn't seen or tasted this item before, and my suspicions were confirmed when I saw a large "NEW" sticker on the side. Very exciting.

I have just enjoyed it at work for my lunch - I tend to almost exclusively eat Marks and Spencer microwave meals at work, as I enjoy a hot lunch but our canteen leaves something to be desired.

I must say, the casserole was delicious. I had high hopes, and it was much better than I thought it would be in every aspect except one. However, I'm sorry to say that this aspect was a somewhat crucial one. The product is billed as a 'steak, ale and mushroom casserole', yet there was only one very small slice of mushroom contained in the whole 380g.

While I don't think I could excuse such an error, I could almost begin to understand it if the snack hadn't been packed to breaking point with cabbage and other vegetables. Surely if so much (admittedly scrumptious) cabbage, as well as swede and carrots could be crammed in, more than one paltry sliver of mushroom should be included. Not least of all as it is billed on the packaging as one of the key players of the product (along with steak and ale).

I am an extremely loyal customer, and I'm sure you'll be quite happy to know that I frequent your excellent franchise along with just one other supermarket. I don't want to name names, but its the orange coloured one that rhymes with Blainsbury's. You might also be relieved to hear that I don't subscribe to the adage that 'every little helps' whenever it is in relation to an inferior product combined with an invariably frustrating and unintuitive shop layout. As for the other one (with the greenish tinge), I have been met with blank stares when I ask for items as simple as chorizo or a baguette. There truly is 'no place like it'.

No, your store and the-one-with-the-Nectar-points are the ones for me. It is therefore less a criticism, moreso a labour of love that I am writing this email. Please understand, I am only keen to help you maintain your already excellent standard. However, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't mention another incident at this point. It is with a heavy heart that I must tell you I was recently treated with quite a haughty attitude at one of your stores, and it was even alluded to that I might not be able to afford a Bag For Life! Rest assured, I could, and purchased one. I was rather upset afterwards, as I did not require a Bag For Life, I already have one at home. That is not a predictable joke about my partner, I just have a Bag for Life at home which has some wear out of it left, and I use it in conjunction with a great looking canvas bag from a local bookshop.

But I digress. It is only a small complaint, and the service at your stores is usually unparalleled. I left feeling a little dejected, and I must admit that I didn't appreciate being borderline taunted into proving my financial solvency, but my spirits were lifted by an extremely friendly and hard working member of staff, who helped me carry some goods, with a warm smile and some friendly chat.

This was in stark contrast to the treatment at the till, and a previous unsavoury incident possibly from the same member of staff. This shop assistant was offering samples of the fantastic new sauce range and tasters of a bottle of Australian Shiraz. My presence at the tasting stall was met with an undeniably disdainful stare, and a barely concealed accusation that I was only there to sample the wine. I had no intention of sampling the wine, as these days I much prefer an Old World wine, and had just stocked up on Côtes du Rhône at Blainsbury's. A chardonnay was also on offer, but rest assured I was not about to give it the time of day. Rather, I was interested in the sauce. I must say that the otherwise pleasant taste was soured by bitter treatment I received.

I would like to thank you profusely for reading my now rather lengthy mail. I'm sorry for rambling, and I hope that you take these criticisms in the spirit that they are intended, namely that of helping to improve the store which I love so dearly, and for which you all work incredibly hard to maintain such a standard of excellence.

I am very much looking forward to your response, and I can be contacted via this email address, or alternatively my home postal address which is attached.

Keep up the good work!

Yours faithfully,

Peter McCaughan.

I really would love an interesting response. I have high hopes of a package full of thousands of pounds worth of vouchers, and a tear stained apology written in blood, but think a politely worded 'fuck your fucking mushrooms and fuck the fuck off, you drunk, broke fuck' is entirely more likely.

Well, that was a big rambly post about not very much in particular, but hopefully next time I'll have something more interesting and concise.

I'll leave you with this - a quick photoshop I made in honour of the return of the godawful Hughes Insurance adverts.

"I don't think we're on UTV anymore!"

Thanks for reading, comments are welcome, even if just to call me a bell

HR.

GOING GREEN: Environmental Tip #2

2010-08-04T23:01:00.000-07:00

Another environment-friendly tip for you ecowarriors out there. This one's greener than Jen Walters!

#2. WAR ON OIL!

As any sensible person knows, oil (by its very nature) is nothing but pure evil. I mean come on, just look at it. Pure. Evil.

So it's our duty as responsible enviro-troops to show the world just what we think of it, and I'm going to tell you a really good way to do just that.

Good news for drivers - if you've got a car you can become a GREAT ecologist. Cars run on petrol, which is of course just oil with a bit of water in it and a nice smell. To carry out this tip, you're first of all going to want to get a big drill.

When you've got that, use it to drill a pencil sized hole in the petrol tank of your car. Don't worry about depreciating the value of your vehicle - you won't have a problem selling this modified green machine on to a fellow environmentalist! Once you have done this, you will need to go to a petrol station and fill up your earthmobile with a full tank of that nasty petrol. God, it makes me sick.

This is where the fun starts. If you have followed the above steps precisely, your car should now actually be dripping petrol at quite a rate. What you're going to want to do now is drive around as much as you possibly can, dripping out all of that nasty petrol. This will really show the evil oil corporations just what you think of their so called product! It will teach them a valuable lesson in humility. This is an especially powerful message if you drive around countryside/forest areas, showing that you're too Green to even stay in the dirty pollutey city.

In a recent victory for Mother Earth, a group of ecowarriors managed to infiltrate the evil oil company BP, and carried out exactly what I suggested above, but on a much larger scale! Hats off and TAKE THAT, OIL! You bastard.

Before I go, I'd like to share with you an environment-saving tip sent to me from a fellow planeteer named Jake:

"If you are concerned about pollution in our waterways and want to do something about it, buy a few gallons of household bleach and pour it into your nearest river. The bleach will get rid of all those nasty germs and keep our rivers clean for the children."

Sage advice indeed! You can check out Jake's blog here, and if you have any tips of your own you can comment with them below, or email them to pgmccaughan@googlemail.com . I'll feature one every day.

HR.

Shameless self promotion:

BBC Introducing on Radio 1 with Rory McConnell, with loads of great stuff, including my wee bit - Hotrod's Hot Rod of Comedy - this month featuring some chat with the endlessly charming Matthew Collins.

One Nation Under a Groove - brand new funk and hiphop night with a few class twists. Starts Wednesday 11th August.

GOING GREEN: Environmental Tip #1

2010-08-04T01:16:00.000-07:00

In today's enlightened climate, only a complete nincompoop would not take every possible precaution to look after our precious ecosystem.

With this in mind, I will be posting a series of environmental tips I have penned, to keep you super green.

#1. Make as much use of wind power as possible.

It is extremely important to harness the power of renewable energy sources. The most abundant of these sources is all around us - Wind! However, in order to make use of this powerful source, the wind must first be trapped.

The easiest way to do this is by using simple plastic carrier bags. There are few tools as important to the ecologist as the humble plastic bag.

Next time you have a free afternoon, gather as many plastic bags as you possibly can, and get yourself to a high vantage point - on top of a city centre highrise building, or better yet, on top of a rural hill or mountain. Once you get to the highest point possible, grab all your plastic bags and fling them as far and wide as you can.

The idea is that the wind will fill these handy receptacles, so whenever they fall to earth, the wind is gathered in a container for fellow environmentalists to pick up and use. Hopefully some windsavers will also fall into the sea, so that fish can swim into them and use the oxygen stored in the wind to breathe better. We have to look after our ocean friends.

If you're serious about helping the environment, make sure to ask for extra plastic bags next time you're shopping - every little helps.

HR

"Don't go in there! That's Old Man Hotrod's place!"

2010-07-29T23:21:00.000-07:00

Firstly, let me apologise for the hiatus - I haven't been bloggin' it up in some time. I've been a bit busy, and when I've not been busy I've been a bit lazy.

But I'm back, baby! And we got shit to talk about. Let's start with this:

I got old.

Well, so I'm told. For the first time, out the back of a certain local boozer, a youngster said I was "really old". It was a throwaway comment without malice, but also without a hint of irony or playfulness - it was presented as an unquestionable fact. You're really old. Granted, the person in question was probably barely of legal drinking age, and I'm probably overreacting, but it got me thinking.

Afterwards, I kept noticing my own idiosyncracies and wondering, are these the work of a grumpy old bastard? Shopping for new jeans, I complained in the shop because the music was too loud (it was also too shit, but I kept that to myself), shortly before getting stuck in a pair of dangerously narrow troos. I left the place in a huff because of this and the fact that I refuse to wear strides that already come ripped - if I've got holes in my knees its because they damn well got there from wear and tear or falling the fuck over, not because they came that way.

On a similar note, I can't seem to find a single t-shirt in Belfast that I like.... and I've been searching for nigh on a month now.

A fortnight after oldgate, I found myself in another popular nightspot in town. It wasn't long before myself and my two compadres realised we were, by a country mile, the oldest people there. Including the bar staff. Shit, these kids probably didn't even remember the Millenium Bug.

In the bathroom, two befringed skinny chequerered-shirt runts were huddled in a cubicle. I'd opened the door because I wanted a piss (being a toilet and all that), and there they were. It took a moment for me to realise what they were doing - mephefuckingdrone. The kicker came whenever one of them looked at me with disdain and uttered the following:

"I bet you don't even know what this is".

That's when it hit me fellers, a revelation. The sub-dubstep shite music, the ballconstricting jeans, the half-haircuts on the underworked toiletdicks with their drugs that they didn't buy from a drug dealer but from a fucking plant food website. At last it all made sense! I'm not old! Not by a longshot, nosirree.

I'm just not a complete and utter fuckwit.

HR.

Oh, if you like reading things that have fallen out of my dirty brain, check out my article in the latest edition of Crave Magazine, viewable below. I'm on page 49, although you should read the whole lot. There's class stuff in there:

Open publication - Free publishing - More planetlove

shameless plugs for cool stuff to check out that I'm involved with in some shape or form:

Sat. July 31st: Palookaville @ Oh Yeah!
Wed. August 11th: One Nation Under a Groove @ Lavery's
Sun. August 22nd: Lavery's Grin Palace
Sun. September 5th: Sunday Sinema @ Lavery's

Cat Handcuffs

2010-03-08T08:36:00.000-08:00

"How many people have cats? One, two, three, four...okay, ten. Now - let me ask you this... do ya trust 'em? Because I've gotta get a pair of cat handcuffs and I gotta get 'em right away. Just the little ones that go around the little front paws or maybe the manacles....four, to get all four paws.

But what a drag; I found out my cat was embezzling from me. You think you know a cat for ten years, he pulls something like this. I found out that, while I was away, he would go out to the mailbox, pick up the cheques, take 'em down to the bank and cash 'em... disguised as me. He had the little kitty arrow through the head... and the little kitty bunny ears.

And I wouldn't have caught him, but I went out to his house where he sleeps...and there was about $3,000 worth of cat toys out there. Any you can't return 'em 'cause they have spit all over them! So now I'm stuck with $3000 worth of cat toys! Oh, sure... they're fun. You got the little rubber mouse; has a bell inside of it- Haw haw haw! Boy, I hate it when it goes under the sofa! Whoa, gimme that! Gimme that! Hiss! Hiss!"

- Steve Martin, "A Wild and Crazy Guy", 1978.

Italians, open mic and a big bunch of girls.

2010-03-06T05:12:00.000-08:00

It's Saturday, it's sunny and it's gonna be swell!

I'm planning a thoroughly Italian afternoon with lasagne, marsala, gelati and gialli, interspersed with some fresh air in the garden then maybe a little swim.

That's a goddamn nice Saturday afternoon right there. Forza gloved killas!

It's not been a bad week. We launched our new comedy night, Big Laughs at the Black Box on Wednesday and it was a real success, my wee radio segment went out on Rory McConnell's show on Thursday (see below), had a lovely impromptu meal out with two great chums, and Voicebox was a hoot as always.

Featuring George Quinn, Graeme Watson, Mothers' Day fun and a short play!

Plenty of stuff to look forward to this week as well. On Monday 9th there's a whole bunch of great stuff going on at the Ulster Hall as part of their International Women's Day celebrations, including the launch of the WomanCraft exhibition at 6pm. This features work from some wonderful local artists, including my ladywoman Jemma Logan and a lot of other very talented folk.

Nairy a Barbie nor ticklefight in sight.

Also on Monday evening a little bit later is Big Laughs open mic night at the Pavilion. If you've ever considered having a bit of a go at some stand-up, sketch comedy, or anything else funny on a stage, this is tailor made for you. We're on the hunt for the next Keith Harris (apparently), and you stand to win a slot at our prestigious Comedy Club in Laverys Bunker. Or at least a couple of free pints. If you fancy performing, clicky here!

It could be you!

Hope you have a lovely weekend. Here's a quick chuckle for you. Enjoy!

HR.

Flashpricks.

2010-03-04T13:20:00.001-08:00

A very friendly chap thrust this flyer into my hand while I was in town yesterday afternoon:

I took the above photo using the shitty webcam, and it's pretty small, so you might not be able to read it. The gist is, it's an invitation to be part of a 'flashmob' on 13th March at 12:30pm.

I had no idea what a flashmob was, so when I got home I visited the website for more information. It seems to pretty much be a very large group of people who have organised to suddenly flock to a small area, carry out a 'random' task, and then disperse very quickly. In this case, the task is to freeze on the spot, for 5 minutes.

Am I just being out of touch and cynical for thinking it sounds a bit wank?

On the website there's some half-arsed tacked on reasoning behind it about polar ice caps melting (see, freeze, eh! eh!) but to me it really just seems to be an excuse for teenage band-hoodied, stripey-socked, Tim-Burton-obsessed City Hall-ites to freak out some squares.

I dunno.

A small part of me thinks that it might be a wee bit fun to walk around Cornmarket and look at all the silly poses. But the most of me thinks I'd just get annoyed at all the standing still motherfuckers bunging up the center of town when I'm trying to get back to work. Also, in a rare moment of compassion, I feel a wee bit bad for any sensitive young wee souls out shopping with there parents in the middle of this. I'm pretty sure the 6 year old me would've freaked out and thought it was the apocalypse or somesuch.

Maybe this flashmob idea could be a viable form of protest, or in some instances could be kinda cool, maybe. Probably not, but maybe. But to me, this just seems like a bunch of dicks taking the revolting quasi-concept of 'being "random"' to whole new irritating levels.

If you cast your eyes back up the page to the photo at the top, you'll notice that there's a blurry pixellated image in the bottom right hand corner, that looks a little something like this:

Apparently this is a barcode which can be scanned with a Blackberry. Admittedly, I got a wee bit excited when I saw it, and felt very cool and trendy for recognising what it was. This lasted about 2 minutes. Then it quickly turned to frustration as I whipped out my Blackberry and realised that I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to scan the fucker. I continued trying to do it for a good hour or so, before giving up and feeling very out of touch. An analogue man in a digital world.

Actually my whole afternoon in town left me feeling a bit strange, particularly my short spell in Castlecourt. Feeling the effects of a few too many glasses of piss poor red the night before, I'd ventured into the city centre in search of redemption and a smoothie. I found myself at a stand offering super healthy blended drinks and napkins printed on faux-recycled paper, all with a bokey corporate sheen and prices to match. It seemed about as natural as Lolo Ferrari.

I figured I'd go for the most revolting sounding option on the menu, as it would most likely do me the most good. This happened to be the gruesomely colonic sounding 'Wheatgrass Cleanser'. It was a bit dearer than the rest (it was on the 'Premium' menu after all), and sounded superbly vile.

I've never had Wheatgrass before to my knowledge, but it's one of those things you hear about. Probably from the same type of fucker who organises flashmobs and scans shit with his Blackberry. I assumed it would be some kind of pulped grass, squished up into juice form. Hell, this was meant to be an all natural kinda place, or at least as 'all natural' as a stand in the middle of a hellish shopping centre can get. So imagine my surprise when I saw the proprietor put a PILL in the fucking blender!! A pill?!

I pannicced, and assumed he was trying to poison me. But then I spotted that the word 'WHEATGRASS' was emblazoned on the tub. Phew. At least if he was drugging me, he was being smart about it. But goddamn! Is this the norm now? Am I being crazy? Do people take their KFC intraveinously now and I don't know about it?

When I turned round and a man tried to sell me an electronic 'Smoke Hero' cigarette, complete with USB charger, I turned on my heels and ran away in a cold sweat.

Flashmobs, spiked smoothies and cyberfegs? The dystopian future is here ladies and gentlemen. Hide your books before they're burned to cinders.

You can find me on my boat in the middle of the ocean, sipping campari and puffing a briar full of completely un-electronic Balkan Mixture as I watch the bombs go off. Flash that, fucker.

HR.

Sumer Is A-Cumen In

2010-03-02T23:24:00.000-08:00

It's officially spring. Blue skies, bright sun, crisp cool air. Walking weather. Lovely.

It's been a crazy few days with work and other bits and pieces. Today is no exception - I've been up since an obscene 3am and work is very busy. I'll be using my only free time today to record my radio segment, Hotrod's Hot Rod of Comedy with Graeme Watson, George Quinn and Marcus Keeley.

Straight after work I'm going to be busy with getting stuff ready for our new comedy night, Big Laughs at the Black Box.

All great things to be busy with, and I'm looking forward to all of them, but I rather suspect I'm going to be utterly knackered by the time I'm done.

Luckily, I've a day off tomorrow, and I'm really going to enjoy it. Planning a lie-in, followed by a walk by the sea and some chips.

Back to work!

Full Moon Fever

2010-02-28T22:50:00.000-08:00

"For now doth Cain with fork of thorns confine
On either hemisphere, touching the wave
Beneath the towers of Seville. Yesternight
The moon was round." - Dante's Inferno.

After a shitty night of bugger all sleep, this morning I somehow managed to drag my fetid carcass out of bed at a most unholy hour to begin the long, lonesome drive to work. Lonesome being the operative word - as it was just after 5am and I was going over the back roads, I managed to get a whole twenty minutes into my journey before I saw another vehicle.

However I did have a companion of sorts with me throughout the commute - the brightest, clearest full moon I've seen in a long, long time. It was difficult not to get mesmerised as I peripherally watched the lumanescent lunar orb flicker between the trees, as if it were racing to keep up with me. When I rounded a corner I was met head on by it in all it's glory, magnificent beams clinging to the early morning clouds and trickling down to terra firma. And so I continued, dancing with the Devil in pale moonlight, or at least until I reached suburbia when other vehicles, streetlights and hubbub cut in and broke the spell.

The whole time my head was agog with thoughts of lycanthropic lunacy and space voyage, images of werewolves bounding through moonlit forests and tin foil space suits flashing through my mind.

The original Teenage Werewolf, Michael Landon. The James Dean of Lycanthropes. Rebel With a Paws. Ahem.

Destination Moon. Cool.

It was easy to see how the moon, and in particular the full moon, has such a vast mythology surrounding it and is quintessential in at least some respect with most religions. Particularly fascinating to me is the notion that a full moon can inspire some kind of behavioural, psychological or even physical change within a person. Of course, the word 'lunacy' comes directly from 'lunar'Almost every documented claim of this actually happening is most likely pseudoscientific nonsense, quite easily refutable, often hilarious and sometimes a wee bit cool. For instance, police officers in hippietastic Brighton jacked up fuzz presence on the streets during the summer a few years back, due to deviant behaviour they linked directly to the lunar cycle.

However, while it does all sound ridiculous there have been sporadic studies carried out that support the notion that the full moon can cause some sort of change in a person. Most are rather spurious of course, but driving alone through the early morning blackness, save for illumination from the awe inspiring 'Death Moon' (as it is referred to this month) definitely roused something inside me. Maybe it was just the result of a poor night's sleep, years upon years of watching horror movies and the sheer jaw dropping beauty of the thing, but it definitely awoke some strong feelings inside me. Also - and this definitely has to be a coincidence, albeit a fun one - I woke up this morning to the howl of a wolf. Oooh. Spooky.

Well, it was a howl of a wolf in my dream, which soon turned out to be my alarm clock. Still though, it was a hell of a way to wake up, and the eery canine sound continued ringing in my ears throughout my silent journey.

Whether any bona fide supernatural chicanery goes on during the full moon or not, millions of people celebrate it. And I'm all on board with that.

Full Moon beach party on the island of Kho Pha Ngan, Thailand.

It seems to me that the full moon is a pretty damn decent thing to celebrate. There are all sorts of spooky, weird, wonderful mythical and/or religious reasons behind doing so, as well as just celebrating the fact that such an awe inspiring thing exists - it truly is beautiful, and rarely have I been so pleased to be awake as early as I was this morning. An old English ballad goes like this:

"Our man in the moon drinks clarret,
With powder-beef, turnep, and carret.
If he doth so, why should not you
Drink until the sky looks blew?"

These are certainly words that I can get on board with. So when the sun goes down this evening, I'm going to get into the spirit of things myself with my own little celebration of the full moon. I'm swapping the claret for a rather decadent bottle of very nice Côtes du Rhône which I just picked up on my break, and the meat and two veg for a big bowl of piping hot chilli, all of which I'm going to enjoy while I watch the fabulous 1962 Italian horror flick, "Werewolf In a Girls' Dormitory".

Also known as, 'Lycanthropus', 'I Married a Werewolf' and 'The Ghoul in School'!

Why not enjoy a little Moonshine tonight yourself, or at least treat yourself to a long lingering glance skywards once it gets dark.

Hotrod's Retro Review: Dinosaurs for Hire [Megadrive/Genesis, 1993]

2010-02-28T10:45:00.000-08:00

The first Megadrive game I'd like to review here is "Tom Mason's Dinosaurs For Hire", based on the comic of the same name. The reasons I chose this game are many, but principally because for me it really epitomises the ethos of 90s gaming. More on that later. It's also a slightly more obscure title, and not only that but it's rather good.
Just the very fact that this game exists is very cool indeed, and is part of the reason why I love retro gaming so much. It was from an era where you could smush together a few pop culturey references in a blender along with a liberal dose of kickass gameplay action and have yourself a fun little winner. Comics? Good. Dinosaurs? Good! Mercenaries? Good! Guns? Gooooood!
Of course it's great that today's games are so wonderfully complex, immersive and personal (see the excellent Fallout 3 and Mass Effect 2, par exemple), but there's something so vital and instantly escapist about popping in a cartridge, blasting your way through swathes of enemies and having everything all be over as soon as you hit the end of the game or the reset button. "Dinosaurs for Hire" is tailor made for this kinda fun.

The game itself is a platform based shoot-em-up, and plays fairly similarly to Contra/Probotector and its bazillion clones. You have the choice of playing as one of three of the original comic book characters - Archie, the fag smoking, shades wearing T-Rex, Lorenzo the Triceratops with a 'tood and bright hawaiian shirt, or Reese - a hulking Stegosaurus with an eyepatch and a penchant for heavy artillery.

There's something deeply disconcerting about looking at a cartoon dinosaur wearing a jacket but no trousers. Smoking. Trying to mack a woman.
The gameplay is fast paced and challenging enough to warrant a few joypads thrown across the room in frustration. This type of game can fall into the trap of getting stale very quickly indeed, but thanks to some great gags, surprises and set pieces, "DFH" manages to stay fresh right through the game. You're given a flavour of this as soon as you start the game, and are instantly thrown into a massive boss fight with a gigantic firebreathing prehistoric turtle/dino beast.

It really is a shock to be greeted with this monstrosity with absoloutely no warning. Unfortunately the shitty screenshot doesn't remotely do it justice - there's a great animation sequence of the behemoth tearing apart a dam with his pixelly claws, all the while those orange veiny bits crackling and flowing like lava. Pretty spectacular.
You've no choice but to blast this mother with all you've got, thinking perhaps that there's a fault, and you shouldn't be faced with this dick right away.... but it soon becomes clear what's really going on. He may knock you off your perch, and if he does so then the game 'really' starts, and you're launched into the first level. Phew! Just a fun little intro, no harm done.
However, if you do succeed in gunning the sucker six feet under, you're not only treated to some classic 16bit visuals of limbs flying off and being replaced with electric tentacles, but you get a neat little easter egg:

A pterodactyl (Cyrano from the comic) appears, and tells you that it was all a psych! A psych! What's more fun (or more 90s) than a psych? Awesome.
The fun doesn't stop there of course - there are all sorts of wee gems like this throughout the game. It's also littered with just about every 90s 'cool' cliché one could think of, which is a real treat. Cue endless skateboarders, soda machines, and graffiti!

It's a kitschy game, no doubt, but it really also is genuinely very good indeed. The gameplay is fast, frantic, fun and challenging enough to warrant a few playthroughs. As I said before, there are enough surprises to keep it feeling fresh, right up until the end. The visuals are pretty neat too, and some real attention to detail has been paid. That counts for a lot in my book, and in particular, I love the idle animations - if you stop the action for a few moments, each dino has his own animation that he slips into, for instance, cool dude Archie turns round and gives the player a quick cheeky cool dude grin and a nod, before going back to his grimace.
I'm inclined to agree.
I love that kind of attention to detail, and the idle animation is definitely a lost art. A fun little breather amidst some kick-ass action, and there were some really iconic ones (Sonic's foot tap, etc). More about this in the future.
Of course, no post "Streets of Rage" platform/shoot/beat-em-up would be complete without a rising lift level, and "DFH" is no exception. Unfortunately this is one of the weaker levels, and is spent picking off extremely irritating jetpacked rifle-wielding ponces. Luckily it doesn't last long, and is meant to be set in the Empire State building. Which is kinda cool.

Dicks.
The final cool thing about this game is the soundtrack. It's real proper balls to the wall 16bit rawwwwk, chunky chords and screeching high guitar solos. It's not a patch on the likes of Yuzo Koshiro's "Streets of Rage" soundtracks, or the widdletastic classic rock instrumentals outta "Rock n Roll Racing", but it certainly does the job. I only wish there were a few more tracks - hearing the same one for three levels in a row does grate just a wee bit.
But that's only a very minor gripe about an otherwise very cool, replayable, often overlooked game. Sure it ain't up there with the serious big hitters but for throwaway kitschy Sunday afternoon fun, you could do a helluva lot worse than "Dinosaurs for Hire".
HR.

Oh - you might want to check this out. Some bizarre Sonic the Hedgehog/Amy Rose based fan fiction I stumbled upon earlier. Innocently.

It's a little disconcerting to say the least.

clickitty

Moguls and Nachos: The Week In Review

2010-02-27T06:10:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in my casuals with a few cans of coke and a stack of books and DVDs. Must be a Saturday afternoon!

This week was pretty decent all in all. I got my ass paid, I got a nice cheque in the post for some work I did last month and had forgotten about, and I got a new beard (which I'm a little unsure of).

Other highlights included a power lunch at The Mogul with Larne's Loveliest Man, Graeme 'Nutgobbler' Watson, and finally checking out Avatar in 3d (more on that later). The guy really pimped out my nachos too (upon request), which was nice. Also enjoyed an impromptu midweek afternoon in the Hewitt with a GBOL, followed by a bite at Little Wing and some very tasty tequila in the Garrick.

I know this isn't the Garrick, but it is Graeme Watson. And tequila.

Last night was brill skills, t'was our monthly trash movie night which I co-host and organise with the rootin'est, tootin'est Texans in Belfast, Scott and Stacey. We showed HG Lewis' BLOOD FEAST (a personal fave) and it really went down a storm. The audience were fab, and very generous with the donations, meaning that we can keep the night running for now.... next month it's gonna be the hilarious blaxploitation/horror crossover, BLACULA! Which should be fun.

Dracula's Soul Brother!

It's been another fairly hectic week, so this afternoon I'm gonna do some serious relaxing. I picked up the new AVP game for the 360 last week and haven't had a minute to play it yet, so that's on the agenda.

After I'm done kicking alien ass, it's gonna be mugs of tea, Vonnegut book and a bath, followed by watching the absoloutely superb Alex Cox cult classic, Repo Man, for the squillionth time and eating pizza.

Repo Man is always intense!

Also want to fit in a bit of writing for Wednesday's gig in the Black Box, and maybe even a wee bit more blogging. It's infectious!

In the evening I'll be heading to the most excellent Palookaville carryout disco in the Oh Yeah building, busting some serious grooves all over the dancefloor and not even sweeping them up. I don't really know what I mean by that.

That's a Saturday, baby!

Hotrod's Retro Review: a Prologue.

2010-02-24T07:34:00.000-08:00

I'm a big videogame fan. Fan? Nerd. I'm gonna be firing up a few reviews on this blog, some of new games, probably a lot more of older games. Most of which are gonna be Megadrive games, if I'm gonna be brutally honest.

And here's why.

I grew up with the Spectrum. Many happy weekends I spent typing my infuriated wee self through 'The Hobbit', paralysing insectoids in 'Ant Attack', and having nightmares about the flying skulls in the 80s-est titled game in town, 'Ninja Scooter Simulator'.

After some time, I graduated to the Sega Megadrive. And my life changed forever.

There had been dedicated games consoles before. I hadn't owned them, but they existed. Plenty of 'em in fact.... the wood-panelled Atari 2600, the James Bond bomb-diffusal kit styled Colecovision (see below), the miniscule TurboGrafx-16, the Nintendo NES/Famicom and Sega's own Master System to name but a select few.

But the Megadrive was different, in a multitude of ways. Firstly, this shit was no toy. Well, it wasn't marketed as one anyway. Up until this point every other games machine had been advertised as such, a neat little toy for the youngsters, that the grownups would have no interest in apart from maybe to keep up with the Joneses.
Sure, the home computers like the Commodore 64, ZX Spectrum BBC Micro were marketed towards the adult market, and they played games.... but they weren't sold for that purpose, at least not in the first instance - they were sold as business tools, status symbols, an integral part to the 1980s homestead... and they also played games that would keep Little Jimmy amused and maybe Daddy could have a sneaky play too whenever they were in bed, just to check that the games were working okay.
The Megadrive did away with all that shit. This was no toy to be trifled with - this was a FUCKING SEX MACHINE that was so powerful it could barely be contained within its sleek black casing. Look at that dragster inspired grill on the left hand side, the portal to another world of wicked pleasures slot, the words 16-BIT proudly emblazoned in stylish matt gold on top. The devilhorn joypad. Those borderline pornographic curves. Oh God. Lock up your daughters, drown your sons - this videogame shit suddenly got all grown up.
And the advertising campaigns tied in with this perfectly.
Nintendo had Mario, Kirby, and a host of cutesy primary-coloured animals plodding about. What did we (yes, we) have? A goddamned pirate skull and a spike-covered badass with an attitude problem, who could break the sound barrier on foot. And the ad campaign bought into this with aplomb - we were bombarded with 20 second multimedia blows to the face with all the emphasis on speed, speed, speed, sex, fighting, speed SPEED!
Sure they started out sane enough:

..... but they soon got progressively more and more nuts. And we fucking loved it. This next one was always shown in the middle of the footie, and is nothing short of terrifying.

The message was clear though - this was NOT just for kids any more. And this is why I still have my Sonic the Hedgehog curtains up in my bedroom.
But did it really have as much bang for its buck as the ads made out? Holy SHIT, did it! This thing was amazing, hell, it's STILL amazing! The games that came out for this system embodied a whole magnificent ethos that sadly seems slightly lost in todays market. Don't get me wrong, I play new games. A lot of 'em, in fact, and I love them. I've got a ridiculous collection of Xbox 360 titles. But I still find myself going back to the Megadrive.
And it's not just a nostalgia thing either - I've had other machines that I've loved, including the aforementioned Spectrum, and plenty of others such as the N64. Nowadays I only really fire up the latter for the occasional boozy Goldeneye multiplayer, or the former if I manage to pick up a copy of something like Samantha Fox Strip Poker and I fancy looking at some grey pixellated boobs.

The Megadrive is a different story altogether. I still fire it up all the goddamn time and I never, ever, ever get sick of it. Never before, nor since, has there been a time in gaming history where so many unbelievably awesome titles were churned out at such a rate of knots. Sure some of them were wick, some of them were wacky, but goddamn it was beautiful. To this day, I still haven't played a game which has made me laugh anywhere near as much as Earthworm Jim.... I've played through it countless times, and it's still hilarious and still tough as nails in parts. There will never be another game quite like that, and the same can be said of hundreds more insanely good titles that came out for Sega's sexy bastard.

So, that's about it. The short story of why I love the Megadrive. You can expect game reviews soon. Like I said, a lot of them will be about games on various different systems. Of course, they're all great in their own way, and they all have amazing games. And I do play a LOT of new games, and I intend on reviewing them too. But as you can see, the Megadrive holds a special place in my heart.
Anyone of a certain age will remember in school heated debates over which was better, the SNES or the Megadrive, Sonic or Mario. And I know that both systems have their pros and cons, and it's very infantile to argue over which fictional videogame character is 'best'.
It's silly.
But seriously?

Fuck the SNES.

HR.

Fillums.

2010-02-23T05:10:00.000-08:00

I worked as a freelance filmmaker for some time.

It's something I'd love to go back to at some point, although not at the minute as I'm flat out busy with a whole load of other stuff these days. Which - don't get me wrong - I'm really, REALLY enjoying, and completely sinking my rotten bloodstained fangs into. But some days I do get a bit doe-eyed and misty over the heady celluloid days of yore. Today is one of those days.

Sure, I'm probably looking back with rose tinted specs, and it was never very glamorous, invariably involved obscene amounts of paperwork, and made me very little money for a hell of a lot of work. When I could get work, that is. Which wasn't a lot. And when I did get work, it was mostly making city council town-safety DVDs, or documentaries about new bicycle paths....

But I definitely had some great times too. Drinking gin mid-shoot on top of a condemned air control tower with a pair of wonderful WWII veterans springs to mind, lovely. Well, at least until I ended up spilling said beverage all over a certain unnamed local legend's new and very expensive camera. But it's hard not to look back fondly on that bit too.

The same goes for an exhilerating day shooting in a well hidden kiln in the countryside, with a renowned, brilliant, local sculptor. It went from a calm-morning-with-a-few-cans, via an adrenaline filled afternoon preparing for the firing, to a long sweatboxed night in the fires of Hades shacked up with a hybrid between Dr. Frankenstein and Beelzebub himself. Flames licked round our faces in the dark, casting everything in an eerily intoxicating glow as he maniacally shovelled materials into the kiln, speaking in tongues all sorts of technical lingo I didn't understand but lapped up. In the light of morning, amidst the otherwordly quiet after the storm (figuratively and literally - a blizzard had raged overnight), the kiln was opened to reveal row upon row of the most wonderful saltglazed creations you've ever seen. Lovely stuff.

However, as awesome as these experiences were, the time I look back on with the fondest memories was my last year of University when I made my first 'real' film with a group of friends.

Sure, some of it's rough, but I'm still damn fucking proud of it. When we started, we had been taught very little about practical filmmaking. In fact, we were taught jack shit about it. This isn't a sleight on the teaching staff, some of whom are the greatest bunch of lads I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, but the fact remains the same - we were handed a camera and told to go make a film without being so much as taught how to white balance the bastard. This was a curse and a blessing all at once, but at least this way we had no choice but to work our arses off, and we learned on our feet as we went.

Here's the premise. It's a mockumentary - two filmmakers [myself and Bernard McCarron] have hit a stumbling block when shooting their latest film, a horror short. They go to local horror guru Roy Spence for assistance.

Everything about making this film was amazing, every second was such a fucking experience, from setting up a graveyard set in my parents' garage, to nabbing Gerry Anderson during his lunch at Deane's to enlist his help, to freezing my nuts off in a river in the dead of winter. Not to mention the pleasure of spending a lot of time with the genius that is Roy Spence, and being able to work so closely with a group of very good friends. Some of the film I can't help but cringe at when I watch, and the aspect ratio of this online version is annoyingly fucked, but the majority of it still makes me proud, however many years later it is.

Anyways. Here it is, Bad Moon Rising. Hope you like it.

HR.

Four Hours in a Wheelie Bin: a Weekend in Shit Television

2010-02-21T09:10:00.000-08:00

Phew. Last week was pretty full on. Work was heavy. Early starts, and late finishes. Two gigs - one great, one not so great. Way, way, way too much booze.

Don't get me wrong - had some smashing times with a Great Bunch of Lads but, come Saturday morning, I was utterly shagged and fagged. So I decided to have a long weekend of well deserved relaxation time.

So far, this has meant sitting in my pants, drinking a lot of tea, as well as numerous cans of coke, ordering pizzas and watching my father try in vain (so far) to shoot a rat with a pellet gun. I've done a little reading, a litte writing and I started this blog.

I've also watched an inordinate amount of television.

Normally I'm not that much of a TV guy. In fact, until yesterday the telly in my bedroom had been unplugged for over eight months. There are a handful of excellent programmes which I either watch online, or record, but very rarely would I just plonk myself down on the sofa and while away a few hours. At least, not with the television. Largely because the vast majority of its output is utterly bollocks.

But as we all know, bollocks can be fun. And what better way to compliment my weekend of relaxation, I thought, than with a generous portion of idiotbox testicular nonsense.

Nonsense I wished for, and nonsense I got. With varying degrees of entertainment value. I watched Colin Farrell getting on like a complete and utter nob on Jonathan Ross. I saw some pseudo Blind Date horseshit, which included some Fatal Attraction mad bint confessing that she once hid in a wheelie bin for no less than four hours, in an attempt to catch out her (evidently innocent) cheating spouse. I saw some slimey gargoyle faced Hollyoaks motherfucker limply hammering the final nail into the coffin of punk rock, with his wanker-on-ice bokefest dance to the Buzzcocks' 'Ever Fallen In Love (with someone you shouldn't have)'. In fact, he even quipped, "who is Punk Rock?", to Chris Dean at one point. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was one of the most upsetting things I've seen in a very long time. I felt a lump welling up in my throat (I think it was boke), as Pete Shelley struck the final power chord on the stereo and that fucking snake slithered down the judging panel's lecturn. Iggy sells insurance, Johnny Rotten sells butter, now fucking this. Never mind the Bollocks, here's the Bollocks. Where are you GG Allin? Primetime needs you!

The surprise hit of the weekend, was "Just Visiting", a fish out of water romp featuring Jean Reno, the lady from Anchorman, Malcolm McDowell (!!) and Luis from American Psycho. Apparently a remake of a 90s French flick, it features Reno as a medieval knight and his serf who, for some reason or another end up in modern day Chicago. With hilarious consequences.

It's absoloute bollocks of course, and at least half of the gags in the film are based around washing in/eating from various toilets around the city, but it's still far more palatable and entertaining than anything else I saw on TV this weekend.

It speaks volumes about primetime telly when watching a fictional man chomping on urinal cakes is more highbrow than all the talk/quiz shows put together.

I think that's pretty much the end of my primetime odyssey. Hell, I had fun. There were highs. There were lows. Mostly lows. But who knows, maybe I'll get some material out of it, and I at least thought of something to blog about. As anathema, this evening I'm gonna treat myself to a corker of a film that I haven't watched in some time, the Ray Dennis Steckler/Cash Flagg trash opus:

THE INCREDIBLY STRANGE CREATURES WHO STOPPED LIVING AND BECAME MIXED-UP ZOMBIES!!?

Been a good couple of years since I watched it, so I'm really very much going to enjoy it. In fact, could even be a possible candidate for future nights at Texploitation.

That's about all from me for tonight I reckon folks, if you enjoyed reading this, please click the thingy to follow me and my ramblings. If you're out and about during the week, why not check out some of these great nights:

Monday 22nd, Big Laughs open mic comedy at the Pavilion
Friday 26th, Blood Feast screening at Texploitation in the Safehouse
Saturday 27th, Palookaville carryout disco at Oh Yeah!

Cheerio!

HR.

Blogrod.

2010-02-20T15:29:00.000-08:00

My name is Hotrod and I've got a blog.

I'm a Belfast based comic.

I like making Airfix models, reading Vonnegut stories and watching Herschell Gordon Lewis movies.

I've got a Blackberry, and as of yesterday I have a twitter account, and now a blog. But I still buy my jeans in Tesco, not Urban Outfitters, and they don't get ripped until they wear out, or I fall down like an idiot. And I pull them all the way up to waist level.

I like great food and drink.

I'm a mean shot.

I've got more megadrives than you got fingers.

My name is Hotrod, and I've got a blog. Hope you like it.