31st August 2006 - 23:24 BST
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Phew! I just about got this blog finished on time. I didn’t want the clock to hit midnight as it would mean creating a brand new page for September 2006. How’s that for speed? I can write and upload my blog before midnight of 31st August, but Ashley Cole is still to piss off to Chelsea! Anyway, the main feature presentation…

Yesterday I went to the cinema to watch Severance. This was Mr. Watkins’ choice of film and a choice I would like to congratulate him upon. Well done Johnny! You have surpassed yourself. This film was much better than some of your previous choices which included Boogeyman, The Jacket and Christmas with the Kranks… although I think that last one may have been mine.

Severance is one of those British films which stars a handful of British, Z-List celebrities you know that you have seen before, but can’t remember where. Maybe it was in a Guy Richie movie, possibly a BBC sitcom or even a television advertisement. Only IMDB.com holds the answer. I did wonder if the guy who played Steve (Danny Dyer) was a Brainiac. Sadly he wasn’t.

The film, like Shaun of the Dead, mixes horror with comedy, although it is a lot scarier than SOTD. A lot scarier! One scene involving a huge spider crawling up a dressing gown made me feel unwell. I could stomach the scene involving a foot being torn off by a bear trap. A woman being burnt alive – no problem. Hunters knife up the bottom – I didn’t flinch, but a spider on the back is the stuff of nightmares.

After the cinema I went to Nandos. It was late and because of this I was not hungry (my digestive system only functions 0700-2100 local time). For the first time ever, I left most of my Nandos, a terrible crime – burn me. After Mr. Watkins had finished his dish, he frowned at my poor attempt to consume a plate of chicken, chips and rice. I felt shame.

The only blessing of the trip to Nandos last night was that we got the meals 2-4-1 in conjunction with a special offer. The waitress serving us was also extremely attractive. I was convinced that somebody that cute could not have been cooking the chicken that evening as if she had I would have found a way to eat it, even if I had been suffering from some terrible projectile vomiting disease.

On that pleasant note I will say goodnight. “Goodnight!”

27th August 2006 - 23:34 BST
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Yesterday evening was spent at my friend Matt’s birthday party. It was supposed to be a surprise orchestrated by his girlfriend and up until Friday afternoon, the eve of the party, it was. Matt cottoned on that something was out of the ordinary when an industrial sized spit roast and pig carcass were delivered.

The party was noticeably different from others I have been to in the past. Nobody was vomiting into the rose bushes, the pet cat was left unhurt and the neighbours didn’t feel the need to start fighting the guests, a somewhat civilised and more enjoyable affair I felt.

The spit roast was delicious, in fact the taste of well done pork has made me think of copying Gordon Ramsey and buying a couple of pigs myself, raising them in the back garden and then slaughtering them in a brutal and bloody massacre.

To fully complete the festivities there were fireworks. It’s been a good few years since I have had the pleasure of attending a firework display in somebody’s garden. It’s an occasion where you have to forget everything you were taught in your work’s health & safety training course and hope that a flaming rocket doesn’t fall down to earth and onto your back.

Whoever positioned the fireworks deserves a pat on the back for hilarity. They were all seated within 2 feet of Mr. White’s prized mountain bike. As rockets shot into the air and coloured flames were spewed from the ground, White looked on anxiously hoping not to smell burning rubber.

This afternoon Simon came to my flat to watch football. The first game of the afternoon saw Leeds take on Sheffield Wednesday. Leeds won 1-0. I’ll take the 3 points but still hope and pray that the manager will soon fuck off.

We were then both left equally frustrated after watching a lacklustre Chelsea steal a win from Blackburn Rovers. The arrogant yuppie Chelsea supporters are so infuriating. You just know that the only reason they support Chelsea is for a fashion statement and before the Russian billionaire bailed “Chelski” out of inevitable liquidation, they probably didn’t even know the rules of football.

Finally for tonight, while searching on YouTube, I came across this movie trailer. Interesting looking film, I believe it’s available on DVD. If you have young children and want some clean, wholesome, family entertainment, I don’t think you’ll be too disappointed with this one.

British Slugs. A nation of boozers

I don't know who left this can of beer outside the front of the house... "WHITE!!"

This may look like a spit roast, it is in fact a rotting human corpse I spotted while exploring the party host's basement.

DanInTheMix finally makes it to a Chelsea game

26th August 2006 - 18:02 BST
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A few years ago I made a promise to myself to never, ever go to town shopping on a weekend as it is just too busy. This afternoon I disobeyed myself and went into town, my God I wish I hadn’t.

Imagine Hell, only instead of demons there are charity workers asking for your bank details so you can sponsor an elderly dog and instead of evil people from the past like Nazis there are masses of tourists and overweight families moving around slowly in herds.

Outside The Pump Rooms was the worst. It was like one massive tide of jam, but jam made out of people. I wished I’d had a 4x4 with a massive bumper. I would have driven that down the street, mowing down anybody who got in my way.

The main purpose of my trip into town was to buy some clothes. As I waded through the masses of people, I became increasingly frustrated with the lack of clothing available which was any good. The Officers Club was the worst of all. Some of the shit they sell there is just… well shit.

I eventually found some clothing which I was more or less happy with and after a quick excursion to Sainsbury’s, ran for the bus which would take me home to safety and tranquillity. I did think about popping into Café Nero for a relaxing fruit smoothie and slice of cake, but that too had been taken over by foreigners and fat families.

The lession learnt from today: Never, ever, EVER go into Bath on a weekend.

It was like a mass pilgrimage. There must have been a million people (maybe)

The typical, wet English weather sent a few running, but it was still too busy for my liking

Words cannot describe how pleased I was to get the bus home

24th August 2006 - 23:13 BST
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It was my friend Mr. White’s 24th birthday yesterday. Instead of the traditional, midweek pub crawl which normally takes place on birthdays, he decided that he wanted to go for a curry in one of Bath’s finest restaurants, The Eastern Eye. A change very much welcomed by myself who prefers a plate of curry to a table of pints.

The meal, as always, was delicious, the atmosphere and service, excellent. I did feel a little embarrassed towards the end of the meal when certain members of the party (note: Not myself, Watkins or Mr. White) let themselves down badly. Maybe the behaviour was fuelled by excess consumption of Indian beer, but the subject matter degenerated and a loud conversation involving unsanitary topics arose. The term “lager louts” came to mind, fine in a pub, not in a stylish restaurant.

The evening was crowned off when I received a text informing me that Chelsea had lost to a little known team called Middlesbrough. Cue the spamming of derogatory text messages to Dan’s mobile. If you are a Boro fan, or indeed a supporter of any team which isn't Chelsea, why not send him a message on his blog site?

If you are in this picture, I apologise. I hope that your meal was not too disrupted by a conversation which included the line "Surprise Sex".

This evening I went with Simon and Steve to play football in the park. I was a little more enthusiastic this evening (as opposed to Sunday). Probably because Leeds won the other day and I believe the sacking of Public Enemy No.1 (Kevin Blackwell) is imminent.

Another good evening. Not so good was he state of the park toilets. They were very dirty, the liquid soap was basically water and the air from the hand dryer smelt like farts.

Judging by what was written on the toilet walls, I don't think these toilets had been used by many gentlemen.

One would hope that the white table is not used for that purpose.

21st August 2006 - 22:00 BST
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Fucking brilliant news!!!!!

***** CLICK IMAGE TO ENLARGE *****

It's just a shame I made it myself using Paint Shop Pro and is not reality:o(

20th August 2006 - 16:30 BST
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This afternoon I went with friends Simon and Steve to play football in the park. Well, it was more of a practice/training session, no actual game was played.

I thought my performance was a little lacklustre. Leeds United’s terrible start to the season has left me demoralised and struggling for inspiration. I think Simon, an equally depressed Arsenal fan fully sympathised with me. The misery grew when I checked my mobile and found out how Manchester United got on against Fulham, 5 fucking 1!

The only highlight of the afternoon was spotting a cool dog tied up outside the children’s play area. The poor creature was left all by itself and was desperate for attention. I was tempted to untie the dog from the post and take it home with me. Before I had chance to do so, Simon informed me that this was theft and illegal.

19th August 2006 - 17:57 BST
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What more can I say after the result today apart from "who is the most intelligent?".

a) Bakewell. A tasty snack. Lard filled.

b) Blackwell. A not so tasty football manager. Lard filled.

ANSWER: a

19th August 2006 - 00:53 BST
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This evening I went to Mr. White’s house. His parents are away on holiday and therefore he threw one of his infamous house parties. These parties are great for the guests yet hell for the neighbours.

Sitting in the garden, avoiding the general melee, I could hear some awful metal band (possibly Slipknot) playing upstairs, while on the ground floor, an alteration between drum & bass tunes (which I hate), Kasabian, Killers and The Libertines blared out. The excellent Mr. Brightside track must have been played 50 times, yet whoever had access to the MP3 collection would never play the song in its entirety. I did think about compiling a Winamp playlist of my favourite tracks and locking the PC, but that would have caused a riot.

The evening started off as planned with a BBQ. I went shopping in Somerfields after work. Having not been overly impressed with their choice of meats, I decided just to get a Tikka Masala to stick in the oven. The curry looked like baby pooh but tasted surprisingly good. The barbecue could have been better. I think the coals which were being used to cook the meat had fallen victim to the recent storms and were struggling to get hot in their sodden state.

I don’t think the lack of barbecued food was enough to ruin the evening for most of the guests, who filled themselves with copious amounts of beer, vodka and Jack Daniels.

I had to be on my best behaviour when it came to the alcohol (not a problem for me as I very rarely drink in excess anyway). My football trainer Simon was also at the party and any hint of drunkenness on my part would not have pleased him, even though all the best footballers go out on benders ever Friday night (probably).

I am sure Thierry Henry goes to his local pub every Friday after training, drinks 10 pints of Stella throughout the afternoon before moving onto the Vodka and Redbull which he’ll consume throughout the evening and then finally head to the kebab shop where he’ll feast on a calorie filled snack before vomiting into the gutter outside his multi-million pound crib.

Overall a good evening. I got into a taxi just before midnight, leaving a house filled with 20+ people, most of them I had never seen in my life. I am sure the party is still going on now and will do long until the night. The only thing that can stop the festivities now is if the house burns down, the booze runs out or the police come calling, and even they would have a task on their hands.

If you are a resident of Southdown Road, Bath. May God have mercy on your soul.

18th August 2006 - 18:42 BST
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My beloved Leeds United play Cardiff City tomorrow, a team which, in recent years have become a much hated rival of The Whites.

Even when Leeds were top of the Premiership and Cardiff were rotting in the old 3rd division, the bastards still managed to knock Leeds out of The FA Cup (and get Alan Smith sent off).

Since then Leeds have played Cardiff four times in the league. These games have thrown up two draws and most frustratingly, two defeats for Leeds. If Leeds were to ever have a bogey team it would be Cardiff City.

So, will Leeds beat Cardiff tomorrow? They had better. A draw will anger me. I don’t even want to think about losing. Not this time, Leeds. Not this time. Not this fucking time. No. No no no no no no no no no! No! No no no no no no no no no no no no no! No! Not this fucking time! No fucking way! No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way!

Ba Ram You!

17th August 2006 - 23:21 BST
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Today was the first day of my 3 week long training course at work. It was tough and intense. I haven’t had to concentrate this hard since doing my HNC a few years ago and even then the lectures were much shorter.

During the course today, especially after prolonged periods it is very easy to get distracted and end up thinking about nothing. You then realise that you should really be paying attention and to stop thinking about thinking about paying attention. Is everyone still with me?

Still, I am by no means complaining. I am enjoying the challenge and it is interesting to learn how the new IT system my organisation will soon be using functions.

The lecturer leading the course is very professional and business orientated, his manner reminds me of Alan Johnson from Peep Show. You feel that if he was your manager and you pleased him there would be a few 0’s added to your salary and a new floor fitted to your house, yet piss him off and you would know about it the hard way.

He must be on a fair wage himself. He was drinking water from coloured glass bottles with screw on lids. You know you have made it in the IT industry when the company you work for supplies you with designer mineral water. It is still the cold water dispenser for me, a step up though from the tap in the office kitchen sink which I was using last year.

16th August 2006 - 22:56 BST
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It’s been a few days since I last updated my site. Nothing much of interest has happened, hence the absence of blogging activities.

My parents have not returned back to England so I still have to cook for myself using ingredients that have either been grown, found or foraged. I seem to be managing well.

Monday night I managed to cook pie & chips, yesterday I cooked a healthy dish of pasta & sauce and this evening I went for a takeaway pizza to eat while watching the football.

I must be doing something right. So far I have managed to avoid burning the flat down, giving myself food poisoning or gaining/losing any noticeable weight from a malnourished diet.

Yesterday I went to the park to play football with Simon (the now infamous T2000 and my personal “Mr. Motivator” trainer) and a group of other friends who like to ride bikes and drink beer.

While Simon and I played with the ball in the pouring rain, the others stood under the trees and drank. I was not impressed. I went to the park for a game, rain is not an excuse for avoiding football. Imagine if a five year old Wayne Rooney had given up on playing due to the shit English weather.

Moving on, I am on a training course at work for the next 2-3 weeks. The plan is to teach me the administration side of my organisations IT system which the government have spent billions of pounds on nationwide. Fingers crossed this training may one day lead to an improved contract, if not it’s something else for the old CV and makes a change to my everyday job for a short while.

Earlier August Blogs have been moved to the archive