Put THAT in Your Blog and Smoke It! *

First off, I better apologise for not posting last week. I didn’t forget, I was just a bit busy. However, after a grossly unnecessary surprise slap from Kostas, and the other slaps I suppose I signed up for, I’m so dizzy I can’t remember how to do my homework, so I thought I’d post instead!

However, since I’m still fairly busy, I can’t do a full sized blow-your-mind oh-my-god-its-coming-right-at-us type of post, so instead I’m gonna try something I was recently enlightened to by Charlie; a cop-out post. Basically, if we’re busy but need to write a post, we’re now allowed to write a super-short post that says something like “I’m ill. Please leave a message after the tone” or some other lie like that (yeh Benji, I’m looking at you!) so long as we make up for it by (1) having an amusing picture or video at the end of the post, and (2) write an awesome post next time (here is Benji’s admittedly hilarious compensation for his ‘I’m Ill’ post).

Anyway, this weekend I’m off for a reason I still can’t quite fathom to Wales (not voluntarily, no-one ever goes to Wales by choice) to take part in my practise DofE expedition. For anyone who doesn’t know, DofE stands for The Duke of Edinburgh Award scheme, and essentially consists of wandering around in a field in Wales for a few days carrying a map and pretending not to be lost. Oh, and the 60kg bags and the camping every night... and the 20km per day if you’re doing the Gold award like me (the beastly award). So hopefully next week I’ll have some amusing DofE related anecdotes to tell, but I warn you now my post will be a day late cos I don’t get back till Tuesday.

To give you an idea of the treat you are potentially in for, here’s a list of some of the things that happened to me and my group on my recent DofE expedition (which was, by the way, also my first... and after you read this you may wonder why it wasn’t my last):

1)      Arrived in the darkness, pitch black. Setting up the tents was a treat.

2)      Woke up in the morning to discover we’d slept pretty much on the edge of a huge lake. If the Big Man up in the sky had been feeling vengeful, we would have all drowned so quickly we wouldn’t even have had the time to try to build an ark!

3)      Turned out my first day of DofE ever involved climbing to the highest point of a mountain range. No, scratch that, not JUST a mountain range. The Black Mountains. And before you ask yes, I did try to find the volcano to throw the ring into and no, it wasn’t there. Or, at least, the Warlock and Dragon guarding the entrance told me not to tell anyone... should be ok though, I don’t think they have broadband...

4)      Eventually got back to the camp site to discover the other group had got there 2 hours ago, and their route had taken them around the mountains. We didn’t get to pick our route... and hated them.

5)      Discovered the next morning that eating copious amounts of chocolate (specifically Mars Bars- damn they’re good!) just before tackling the most monsterous (yes, it’s a word!) of hills worked like a charm... kind of. Well, at least I didn’t have to hike on an empty stomach!

6)      Hiked up a hill called Lord Hereford’s Knob; great bit of naming from the Welsh there.

7)      Discovered that, although I don’t have signal at home or school in London, I have 5 bars on top of Lord Hereford’s Knob... to be fair, it was a tall knob.

8)      Hiking back down the knob, we found 3 guys on off-road motor bikes trying to kill themselves on the slopes. One of them almost succeeded, but he got right back up... it was awesome.

9)      Stopped for a bit in field to rest and discovered Russians can sleep anywhere, anytime.

10)   Attacked by donkeys. Yes, you read that right. They charged at us as we entered the field and blocked our path. Me and one guy made a break for it and escaped, the other two were stuck for a good 5 minutes before they realised all the donkeys wanted was a pat on the head and a carrot. Since we didn’t have any carrots, they patted them into submission and we left.

11)   We got 5 metres.

12)   I notice a large horse at the top of this new field and stupidly say “Whoa, if that thing charged at us we’d be screwed!”
It charged. Anyone who doesn’t believe in jinxes, don’t test it in Wales. You never know what might happen...

13)   We all managed to break the world record for the quickest anyone in Wales has ever run 200m with 60kg backpacks on. We’re expecting a call from the Guinness Book of World Records any day now.

14)   3 people were following me, I was following the guy in front and he had no idea where he was going... good recipe. He ran into a ditch behind a bush, I fell in after him and the other 3 piled onto us in something akin to a rugby scrums... except it was actually just 5 guys and 5 huge bags in a small pile-on.

15)   We survived! The horse veered off and after it had wandered down the field, we sprinted to the nearest fence and jumped over before it had a chance to take revenge.

16)   You might think our day was over, but nope, not on DofE! We stopped in a field to rest after our traumatic experience, and one guy wanders into the next field and sits down in the sun. Through the gap in the trees we see him jump suddenly from the ground, a white Mitsubishi pick-up truck whizz past, an angry Welsh man get out and a large shotgun. It wasn’t a good sign.

17)   Why are the Welsh allowed to own guns?

18)   I mean seriously, come on!

19)   He starts yelling at us in something that was once similar to English, but is now so twisted by this guy’s accent, anger and years of smoking and drinking that it was practically intelligible... so, Welsh. I start apologising profusely and praying the gun isn’t loaded.

20)   He fairly literally kicks us off ‘his land’ and onto a motor way. Apparently, if a map says ‘Public footpath’ it really means ‘Get the f**k off my land’.

21)   Eventually we arrived at the campsite. The other group are there already.

22)   We murdered the other group and ate their food.

23)   Spend the last day tremendously lost on a hill covered in thick plants.

24)   Discovered Nick loved all animals. And I mean LOVED. We lost like half an hour cos he wanted to stare at a pig, then a cow. We promised to buy him a cow if he kept going... she’s now called Fluffy and her birthday was last month.

25)   We crossed a train track. And another. And a road. It’s Wales, there were no actual motor vehicles...which begs the questions who built the roads?!

26)   Finally made it to the bus. Guess who didn’t beat us this time? The (deceased) other group! Ha!

So, if that’s just one fairly normal trip, imagine the possibilities in store for you all next week! Until then, wish me luck; I’m not so sure I can outrun another horse!

Well, it seems I’ve failed to make a ‘cop-out’ post, so I’ll just wish you all a great week and end it at that!

                -Jamie

*PS: The title is a quote from Kostas during a maths lesson. It was really random and funny at the time, so I gave it the recognition it deserves. Here’s a link to his equally hilarious blog, check it out!

The Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads - Part 3 (The Finale)

At long last, we have arrived at the final section of the Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads. Sadly, next week will continue with the regularly scheduled programming (of awesome, but still). So, here it is, the end of the trilogy:

The Indies

A question I frequently get asked by people on the far side of the generation gap is what an Indie is. Who are they? What defines them? Why do you keep saying these clothes from Top Man and H&M are ‘Indie’? (Just kidding... I don’t shop at Top Man. Or H&M). Well, Indie is, I suppose, a culture... sort of. They have their own music, type of clothes and annoying cliquey group who are determined to say they aren’t Indie or cliquey, then continue to box you out of the circle and listen to the song on their mate’s iPod, which can be distinctly seen bulging out of the tiny pocket of their way too skinny jeans. They are often pretty thin (otherwise no Indie clothes would fit, which would of course make them look stupid...) and wear clothes a few sizes too small, and with lots of colours. Skinny jeans and that Top Man T-shirt with the v-neck and different colours on the sleeve and neck rims are necessities, and wearing shirts out of school if fine, as long as the top button is ALWAYS done up fully, so your airway is blocked off and you nearly suffocate. Well, we all suffer for fashion, right?

This crowd can be nice, mind, and are often quite witty and very good at english. At the very least, they make amusing mates, even if you don’t want to dress like a multi-coloured gymnast.

The Chavs

Since I’m already stereotyping, I might as well go ahead and say you mostly get these guys at state-schools. There, I said it. And to be perfectly honest, it’s true; no kid able to afford a private school, even with money off, can be a chav, no matter how hard they may try. Those people are called wanna-be chavs (see below). The chavs wear hoddies so often many don’t know what each others’ hair, or faces, look like, and speak in a language that was once English long ago, but has since evolved (or, devolved) into a new version, with lots of slang thrown in there and with its own accent. These people think they’re really tough and hard (which, really, they usually are), and are fairly aggressive and quick to get into fights. That said, there are a few nice chavs out there, you just have to earn their respect, kind of like a tribe of gorillas or cave-people. This can be done by defeating the alpha-male, nicking something valuable (ish) or scalping small animals... worrying, really.

The Wanna-be Chavs

These are the people who try desperately to convince the world that despite their reasonable or even large house (and wealth), they’re as ‘hard’ as it gets. Never mind the complete lack of a life of hardship, or time in ‘the hood’, these guys really try to act like chavs. The result? A pretty see-through act and a person that makes it really hard NOT to want to hit them. They usually appear at private schools, grammar schools or fairly nice state-school, though not for very long. The theory goes that there are actually very few of them, they just get bounced from school to school so often it seems like there are lots of them.

So, that’s it. Or at least, those are all the types I can think of, but if you’re sitting at home shouting at the computer screen that I’ve missed a type (which is entirely possible), post it in the comments section below and I’ll add it to the guide! If you want to contribute and don’t have a google account, email/facebook/give me a note in person with your type and I’ll happily add it to the complete guide, which appear as one full page some time soon (hopefully), with a link at the top of my blog!

Have a good week!

         -Jamie

The Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads - Part 2

Here it is; you’ve waited all week (possibly), and the second instalment of the Ultimate Guide to Sixth Form Lads is finally here!

The Sporty Lads

I’m not gonna say ‘The Jocks’, because that sounds like something out of High School Musical, Glee or some other equally irritating American show. Really, it’s all in the name for this one. They’re guys (though they like being called lads- but who doesn’t?) who are sporty. But I don’t mean Boff sporty. These guys are in at least one, though usually two or three school teams, and in the firsts, A-team or whatever their school calls the best team for most of these sports. Often they don’t try too hard in school, but make up for it by working pretty hard at sports to be (to quote an old tv show) the very best, like no-one ever was. Sometimes they aren’t too bright, and can be aggressive and generally douchey, but this isn’t as often as you might think (from those irritating American tv shows).

Ok, sometimes you get a few who don’t work at school, or at sport (but are naturally good), are absolutely a-holes and basically the type of person you would write a message like ‘I’m sure you’re a nice person... deep down’ or ‘It’s not that I hate you, I just wouldn’t care if you died. At all.’ in their year books, but honestly you get those people in all these stereotypes. Just, more in some than others...

The Druggies (Often crosses over with musicians)

Haven’t bothered even learning the phrase “Would you like fries with that?” for one of three reasons:

1. They won’t remember it in the morning.
2. They can’t be bothered, and aren’t worried about jobs or the future; live fast and die young, all that rubbish.
3. They’re still convinced their band will take off (musician cross-over). And I don’t mean a good band (though it might be... rarely). I mean the type called ‘Numb Nuts’ that perform Gangsta Rap... whatever that is.

Spend a great deal of their lives trying to figure out what day it is, which way is up and what the f**k happened last night. Says it all, really.

The Musicians (also sometimes known as the ‘I’m in a band’ers; Often cross over with druggies)

These are the people whose lives revolve (or at least mostly centre around) music, their instrument(s) and their talent. They can range from deranged druggies and tone-deaf nutters (for lack of a more fitting word), to musically gifted geniuses with enough music grades to sink a battleship (and often have a last name like Zeffman, just saying!). These guys and gals are often in a band, some of which are actually really good, and others which, well... aren’t. Still, both types compete in things like school Battle of the Bands with crazy names like ‘Behind the Label’ or ‘Binary Preset’ (what kind of nutters came up with that last one?). Some of this lot will go off and become professional musicians, or could easily if they wanted. Others will become professional buskers, and play occasionally at rubbish night clubs and bars until they end up back in their parent’s basement... worst case scenario, though (usually the druggie cross-overs).

That's all this week. Next week I'll post the last three hilariously exaggerated stereotypes!

Have a great week!

   -Jamie