Press Coverage

The above article is taken from the Gwent Gazette dated 24/08/06. Click for a bigger, readable version, and hey- how's that for a tasteful headline?

Three Weeks Tonight...

... is Brown Trousers night. Seriously, I'm shitting it. The songs are all out of my range and I haven't learned my lines- nothing new there then, eh? Apparently tickets are going really well and we should have a sell-out, which is good news. After all, the only thing worse than turning in a second-rate performance is turning in a second-rate performance to a half-empty theatre, so at least I'll be fucking it up in front of a healthy crowd. Book now for the sham-dram experience of a lifetime!

Got Engaged.

*Skrit Skrit*

I'm just sort of shaking my head and wondering about this fella, not sure what to make of him. A survivor of some sort of Ichthyosis? Fuck knows. This blog is becoming less about my life and more about me scratching my head wondering what's afflicting others. I'd say "burn victim", but the eyes... Anyway, my life. It was the beautiful Laura's birthday this past weekend, and we celebrated with a day out at one of Britain's most awesome theme-park-cum-animal-sanctuaries, Chessington World of Adventures. A few of the rides were fucked so the theme-park aspect was shit, but we did see some really cool animals, the best of which was the Capybara, world's largest rodent- and look at him, he's fucking massive. That's the sort of rodent you don't want to see sniffing around your bins, he'd chew your fucking arm off. Unless of course you lived in a well-known Capybara area, in which case you wouldn't even be checking your bins without some sort of recoil-free firearm. Can you tell my heart's not in this post somehow? I sure can. Driving lesson yesterday, I'm getting better. Missed a few Titanic rehearsals what with Laura's birthday and whatever, my dicky back's been playing up a bit. Moan, moan, moan, fuck, I bore myself sometimes. I was planning something special for Laura's birthday, but it didn't quite happen- it will, and I'll keep you posted.

(Harri are you okay, Harri are you okay, are you okay Harri?)

Wii vs PS3 Spoof

This exactly sums up why I'm really looking forward to owning the new Nintendo console. Cheap and fun.

I Hate Being Away!

Because I've only just noticed this:



I don't like the plain blue suit one little bit. Of course, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I know I could never get away with it like The Doctor will, effortlessly.

Pic from the BBC site, of course.

Summer?

I just don't know how to start this, and I sure as fuck won't be bothered spellchecking when it's over, so sorry in advance. To begin with, let me tell you about last Thursday. I was supposed to be flying myself out to Amsterdam as I've done each year since the millennium, to shake off the horrors of the year and "get in touch" with myself, but, if you're a UK denizen then you'll know that last week some fucking idiot wanna-be amateur bombsmiths with a ridiculous fucking axe to grind had some other ideas. These "bombers" may or may not have even existed- I don't trust the news, I don't trust what I'm told on screen or in print, I never have, all I know is that some argument I have FUCK ALL to do with has gypped me out of a solid four days of blissful intoxicated partying... fuck, let me set the scene for you. I awoke at 0600 last Thursday and the first thing I see is these cunts on the left, telling me there's been some sort of "mild terror alert", dressing it up in their stupid fucking GMTV safe morning-friendly smile-talk while I'm thinking "ah Christ, delays then", so I set out, I get to the airport with with time to spare (a feat in itself, of which I was proud) to find fucking bedlam. Bedlam and Babylon. People lining up for hour after hour, British humanity in all it's glory, waiting it's turn, dreading the bad news. It was a massive disorganised funeral. Everyone knew they wern't getting where they going, but everyone was too damn British to make a fuss. A classic example of queuing at it's best. Right, bollocks, I'm not going to whinge about my missed holiday anymore because I'm bored of it, and at least I had one or two good nights fuelled out of sheer frustration and anger (hey, maybe it's not your thing, but if you're in Bristol and you're off your mash on ecstasy pipes and you've got nothing better to do, maybe you should enjoy the fifteen-floor superclub that is Oceana. My thanks go to Owen and Captain Crunch, whether they read this or not, for the textual and moral support).

Anyway.
No more moaning.

On to the positive. I've had a few driving lessons, which have been fun. I'm shit thus far, my clutch control is fucking awful and it's entirely my own fault, but at least I'm making up at last for leaving it this late. A big welcome to any newcomers who've posted comments recently, it doesn't go unnoticed. I appreciate any and all feedback, be it red, white, blue or black ; )

Marko
x

FISH WITH HUMAN TEETH

Full, terrifying story here.

School Stuff

Interesting article about Pen Y Dre here.

"Hey, Nice Shoes!"

I had to pop to the supermarket earlier, and outside were two young lads playing about. As I walked past, one of them called to me "Hey, nice shoes"!
That put a big smile on my face, so a big thanks to those two kids and also to Osiris.

How Much Lewis Can The Internets Handle?

Looks like there's another Lewis with a blog- it's still in it's fledgling stages, but What Up Jarge is up and running. This is a picture of the protagonist enjoying five consecutive pasties.

Dum, Dum-Dum Derrrrrrrrr..... NER-NER!

That's how the theme tune from "Mastermind" goes. And hey, I should fucking know, because I heard it plenty of times last Saturday. What it is, right, is that I went along to the BBC Cymru studios in Cardiff to see a taping of the all-new Mastermind Cymru- just like the English version except it's in Welsh. Which I don't speak. I went, you see, to cheer on my good friend Huw, who was a contestant- his specialism was the television work of one Alan Partridge, and although he didn't win, he only lost on passes to a freak whose specialism was the Kray twins. I mean, would I be allowed to get on Mastermind with Hindley and Brady as my specialist subject? Or Jeffrey Dahmer, the Milwaukee Cannibal? Probably not. So, I scream "bollocks" and retain Huw as the victor in my eyes. After the taping (which did go on for ages thanks to host Betsan Powys frigging it up all the time, fucking amateur) we headed back to see good ol' Gavo (we being Harri, Sian and I), had a bit of a session and heard all about his trip to Rome. Nice.

In other news, I absolutely fucking hate the following: school, summer, the Earth's sun, the Tesco corporation, that song about the girl who wishes she was a punk rocker with flowers in her hair, having to wait a week for the conclusion to last week's Doctor Who, maggots, stinging nettles, waiting for the summer holidays, and writing school reports.

That is all.

Sigh.

Nothing eloquent sorry folks, just reporting that I didn't get the job. Again. Starting to feel like a right cunt now.

A Right Cunt, Yesterday

Interview Time Again.

Tuesday, in a school quite close by. I'll say no more.

Hang on, I haven't told you about "Titanic" yet, have I? Here goes then- I've gone and gotten myself roped into taking a role in a local production of "Titanic- The Musical". First thing to point out is that it has nothing whatsoever to do with Titanic, the 1997 James Cameron film.

I thought my shady musical theatre days were behind me, but I was asked by a teacher in my current school to fill in for someone who'd fallen ill, so I thought I'd do it to raise my profile a bit and to get some favours owed- it can't hurt, I suppose. Well, bollocks actually, it can- the part is quite big and is in the tenor range, which is bloody high for my rumbling, manly voice. Plus it's in the first weeks of September, so I'll have a lot of rehearsing to do over my summer bloody holidays. On the plus side, it's for a company I've performed with before about ten years ago, and everyone's really pleased to see me and is giving it the "ooh haven't you grown" routine, which is putting a smile on my face in spite of myself. Come and see it if you want, it'll be comedy if nothing else.

I'll update following my interview- if you see another short chapter of disjointed fiction you'll know it didn't go well : )

x

("Hiya" to Karen and Sian!)

Thought You Might Like This Picture.

I love the way it takes the familiar image of Mario's eternal quest and gives it just the tiniest tweak of perspective- a tweak that changes the image into something bleak and, I reckon, quite heartbreaking.

Poor bastard, he does such a fantastic job.
(Click for bigger version)

Okay, Here We Go-

See, it starts off nice and respectable. New suit, tie, lovely day, all smiles. Then the pints start flowing, the tie comes off and the fun starts. I'm not normally a nationalist, but if you put a few pints in me and surround me with family, an English flag is like a red rag to a bull, so we'll get rid of that, thank you very much. Things get more and more vague after that. I think there was some of the usual horseplay between Big Lew and Me, but all you really need to know is that this is the end result:

A lovely day was had by all.

My Dad's Wedding

Look, I weent to my Dad's weddngtoday, and I;'ve got lods of pictures,and I'd like to pit them up but I'm too fuckojng wrecked. Tomooroworw I'll put them u[pm aloing with some video, but right now I can';;t be arsed. Sufficew to say I had a reallly nice adfy, Seeyyou tommoreww,

x

Oh Come On Satan You Tedious Cunt.

Alright, everyone knows that you missed a trick with the Millenium. That would have been an ideal time to rise from your firey pit and overthrow a confused and panicky humanity, but nothing happened. No Millenium Bug, no plague of boils, in fact there was no grand gesture on your part at all.
"Fine", I thought at the time, "he certainly won't miss the really big date coming up in six years or so".
I should've known better. It's now nearly half four on the sixth of the sixth, oh-bloody-six, and it's starting to look like you've stood me up again, you complete prick! I mean, what are you thinking? Have you totally lost your flair for the Grand Guignol? Everyone knows you're slowly winning the battle anyway, what with the decline of the moral standard, the corruption of youth, the war, the murder, the blah blah blah, but come on, couldn't you just this once have said "oh, fuck the long game" and given us a bit of spectacle? I mean, look!

It's like your very own version of the Bat-signal, shining into the midnight sky that is man's damnation, and you can't even be arsed to show your scaly face. Well, I'm almost out of patience. If you don't show up on the ninth of the ninth two thousand and nine, then let me tell you, it's over.

It Won't Always Be This Amateurish. Promise.

Right- Does the sound work for you?
Is the lyp-synch lined up okay?
Is it a waste of time?

Death Imitating Art?

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