E03 of Podcast now online!!
http://www.podcastfm.co.uk/podcast.rss?id=547 (paste into itunes or other podcast software for auto updates)
E03 - The Threequel is now online. Dobbie and Drew return for another installment of their rambling podcastery. This time they might regret talking about Violence, Spices and People who share their poetry and sycophants.
Sorry for the delay, a few problems with conversions and other stuff I don't really understand :-)
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
The Poetry
The War
The night is over and the sun has risen, but it is still black.
My eyes are open but they see nothing except the shadows of yesterday.
The birds are singing, but I can only hear the silence between the notes.
Tears fall from my eyes.
Time to rise and shine.
Time to climb the battlements and face the World.
Time for the lie to live again.
Feet touch the floor, and the first battle of the day is won.
Showered and shaved, I put on my armour, and head for the door.
Emerging into the sunlight, my eyes screwed up against its strength.
Now forward into the fray.
Let battle commence.
I pull down the visor, which is the most important piece of my armour.
I step wearily onto the pathway, which leads to confrontation and terror.
Will today be the day that I falter?
Or can I find the courage to fight this eternal battle and emerge victorious?
It all depends upon the enemy.
An enemy who knows all of my weaknesses.
An enemy that has the element of surprise.
An enemy who lies in wait around every corner of my life.
An enemy I can never kill, or could I?
The enemy within.
Me.
This was the most self indulgent poem I could find from the many I have written and should LEARN TO KEEP TO MYSELF!!!!
Senior Partner.
The night is over and the sun has risen, but it is still black.
My eyes are open but they see nothing except the shadows of yesterday.
The birds are singing, but I can only hear the silence between the notes.
Tears fall from my eyes.
Time to rise and shine.
Time to climb the battlements and face the World.
Time for the lie to live again.
Feet touch the floor, and the first battle of the day is won.
Showered and shaved, I put on my armour, and head for the door.
Emerging into the sunlight, my eyes screwed up against its strength.
Now forward into the fray.
Let battle commence.
I pull down the visor, which is the most important piece of my armour.
I step wearily onto the pathway, which leads to confrontation and terror.
Will today be the day that I falter?
Or can I find the courage to fight this eternal battle and emerge victorious?
It all depends upon the enemy.
An enemy who knows all of my weaknesses.
An enemy that has the element of surprise.
An enemy who lies in wait around every corner of my life.
An enemy I can never kill, or could I?
The enemy within.
Me.
This was the most self indulgent poem I could find from the many I have written and should LEARN TO KEEP TO MYSELF!!!!
Senior Partner.
Friday, 24 April 2009
The Sound of Music - Singalong.
Totally camp and over the top, I spent last evening in the Royal Concert Hall singing as if possessed by Julie Andrews. What a great excuse for just putting all your troubles away for a while and immersing yourself in plain good fun.
There were people dressed as Nuns, people wearing curtains turned into clothes, people dressed as tea bags and jam and bread - and then there were the two old ladies sat behind us who had not a clue what was happening and had totally missed the point and had paid to watch the film!
The audience ranged in age from 4 to 104 though I suspect some of the elderly were there as this cinematic representation of the Alps was as close as their pension would get them to the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland.
Budgets and protests and the rest of the world melted away as we joined together and sang at the top of our voices, Climb Ev'ry Mountain, Lonely Goatherd, Edelweiss etc, you booed the Nazis, you hissed at the Countess, you let off party poppers when the Captain and Maria kiss, and when the family are hiding in the Convent at the end, people swithed on torches and we all laughed....then it ended and we went back to real life.
How do you solve a problem like...life.
There were people dressed as Nuns, people wearing curtains turned into clothes, people dressed as tea bags and jam and bread - and then there were the two old ladies sat behind us who had not a clue what was happening and had totally missed the point and had paid to watch the film!
The audience ranged in age from 4 to 104 though I suspect some of the elderly were there as this cinematic representation of the Alps was as close as their pension would get them to the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland.
Budgets and protests and the rest of the world melted away as we joined together and sang at the top of our voices, Climb Ev'ry Mountain, Lonely Goatherd, Edelweiss etc, you booed the Nazis, you hissed at the Countess, you let off party poppers when the Captain and Maria kiss, and when the family are hiding in the Convent at the end, people swithed on torches and we all laughed....then it ended and we went back to real life.
How do you solve a problem like...life.
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
E02 - The Sequel
New Podcast online now - http://www.podcastfm.co.uk/about.php?guid=123986275149e6ccc107b83
or paste this
- http://www.podcastfm.co.uk/podcast.rss?id=547 -
into your itunes or podcast managing software.
In E02 we may regret talking about Royalists, Catholics, The C of E, Country Music Fans, People who ask 'is this chair taken' & Spielberg
or paste this
- http://www.podcastfm.co.uk/podcast.rss?id=547 -
into your itunes or podcast managing software.
In E02 we may regret talking about Royalists, Catholics, The C of E, Country Music Fans, People who ask 'is this chair taken' & Spielberg
Football
I have finally discovered what it is about football that I so dislike – footballers, commentators, pundits and money. I have nothing against the idea behind the game, it used to be a good game played by sportsmen who knew what being sporting meant. The nice green pitch and those crisp white lines, they seem the best part of the game – but almost everything else about the game is nauseating!
Watching the Euro qualifiers or the Premier League, you see highly paid professional sportsmen throwing themselves on the ground every time they might come into the merest contact with an opposition player. They roll about on the ground; they clasp the so called injured part of their body and thrash about like a wounded zebra swimming the great Zambezi River, waiting to be snaffled by a passing crocodile! The whistle blows, a free kick is awarded and suddenly, it’s a miracle, they rise majestically to their feet and carry on playing. Perhaps there is some healing power in the grass! Perhaps rolling vigorously on grass is somehow a natural painkiller, like green aspirin? The next time my in-growing toenail plays up, I will run out onto the lawn and roll on the turf. I will let you know the result but I don’t hold out much hope.
Or perhaps it is the sound of the whistle; perhaps in some throw back to Pavlov, the sound of the whistle pierces the agony and triggers a chemical release within the brain thereby making recovery immediate.
And as for commentators – purveyors of the bleeding obvious! Lampard has the ball; he passes to Beckham, Beckham to Cole, blah blah blah. Radio commentary on television – why?
And finally, those retired has-beens who sit in judgement, so lofty are their opinions of themselves, no wonder they put them in boxes on the roof!
The endless parade of replays from every angle you can imagine, goal post cameras, eye in the sky cameras, the camera in the end of Wayne Rooney’s boot!
Football was much more fun and much less irritating before the advent of big money. The players are paid too much money, the commentators are paid too much attention and the pundits are paid too much deference.
Why are we so wrapped up in this ugly game?
Watching the Euro qualifiers or the Premier League, you see highly paid professional sportsmen throwing themselves on the ground every time they might come into the merest contact with an opposition player. They roll about on the ground; they clasp the so called injured part of their body and thrash about like a wounded zebra swimming the great Zambezi River, waiting to be snaffled by a passing crocodile! The whistle blows, a free kick is awarded and suddenly, it’s a miracle, they rise majestically to their feet and carry on playing. Perhaps there is some healing power in the grass! Perhaps rolling vigorously on grass is somehow a natural painkiller, like green aspirin? The next time my in-growing toenail plays up, I will run out onto the lawn and roll on the turf. I will let you know the result but I don’t hold out much hope.
Or perhaps it is the sound of the whistle; perhaps in some throw back to Pavlov, the sound of the whistle pierces the agony and triggers a chemical release within the brain thereby making recovery immediate.
And as for commentators – purveyors of the bleeding obvious! Lampard has the ball; he passes to Beckham, Beckham to Cole, blah blah blah. Radio commentary on television – why?
And finally, those retired has-beens who sit in judgement, so lofty are their opinions of themselves, no wonder they put them in boxes on the roof!
The endless parade of replays from every angle you can imagine, goal post cameras, eye in the sky cameras, the camera in the end of Wayne Rooney’s boot!
Football was much more fun and much less irritating before the advent of big money. The players are paid too much money, the commentators are paid too much attention and the pundits are paid too much deference.
Why are we so wrapped up in this ugly game?
Latest Podcasts In The Can
And I don't mean 'can' as in the toilet, although that would seem appropriate considering the shit we spout!
From Prince Charles to Country Music, Violence to Poetry - we have our say and we now want you to have yours.
Let us know what you think, good or bad, (we like the good and we ignore the bad) and your feedback will help us become better podcasters.
Keep listening.Please.
From Prince Charles to Country Music, Violence to Poetry - we have our say and we now want you to have yours.
Let us know what you think, good or bad, (we like the good and we ignore the bad) and your feedback will help us become better podcasters.
Keep listening.Please.
Monday, 13 April 2009
Easter
I hate Easter. I can't have the chocolate in case I get fat. I can't stand the rubbish they put on tv. The Pope and the Arch Bish of C are all over the news....life is miserable at easter.
So, trying to cheer myself up, what do you think of these suggestions for upcoming podcasts? (There will be one soon I promise!)
Badger Reports - reports of badger sightings around the area.
Arsonists Cook Book - pretty straight forward I think.
The ABC of alphabets.
What if.... like what if David Beckham was black or what if Biggins was straight?
If you have any suggestions please post them here as soon as you sober up.
Have a happy easter....someone ought to.
So, trying to cheer myself up, what do you think of these suggestions for upcoming podcasts? (There will be one soon I promise!)
Badger Reports - reports of badger sightings around the area.
Arsonists Cook Book - pretty straight forward I think.
The ABC of alphabets.
What if.... like what if David Beckham was black or what if Biggins was straight?
If you have any suggestions please post them here as soon as you sober up.
Have a happy easter....someone ought to.
Friday, 3 April 2009
Old Fashioned Values
Because I cannot vent everything on the podcast, I have decided to vent a little here...and I have plenty to vent!
But today, a gentle tale of a gentleman. I cannot tell how I met him but it was not in easy circumstances, but throughout our time together he was polite and concerned with my needs. At the end of our brief time together he said to me, "before you take your return journey would you like to make yourself comfortable"? He pointed to what I presumed to be the WC. I declined, not being in need of comfort.
It just made me realise how observing manners and taking time to consider the needs of others seems to be a lost art and even though I am a cynic and can be sarcastic, this touched me.
This man, this gentleman, will stay in my memory for all the right reasons.
Have a nice day.
The Senior Partner
But today, a gentle tale of a gentleman. I cannot tell how I met him but it was not in easy circumstances, but throughout our time together he was polite and concerned with my needs. At the end of our brief time together he said to me, "before you take your return journey would you like to make yourself comfortable"? He pointed to what I presumed to be the WC. I declined, not being in need of comfort.
It just made me realise how observing manners and taking time to consider the needs of others seems to be a lost art and even though I am a cynic and can be sarcastic, this touched me.
This man, this gentleman, will stay in my memory for all the right reasons.
Have a nice day.
The Senior Partner
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
The Challenges
The idea behind the challenges is that the junior partner and myself will challenge each other to look into an area with which we might not be too familiar or have perhaps mentioned we have a problem. He mentioned he did not get country and western, hence the challenge was made for him to try it, to suck it and see, as they say.
I have no idea what he will pick for me, hopefully not the BeeGees who I believe should be kept in a box and poked with sharp sticks.
He may well post something soon, or he may get lost or go to the wrong place at the wrong time which seems to be his penchant at the moment.
Senior Partner
I have no idea what he will pick for me, hopefully not the BeeGees who I believe should be kept in a box and poked with sharp sticks.
He may well post something soon, or he may get lost or go to the wrong place at the wrong time which seems to be his penchant at the moment.
Senior Partner
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