Does not equal the amount of facts I have to write about myself thanks to being tagged by both Goth (from fucking ages ago - sorry) and Goldfish (who jogged my memory - good work missus). I don't know if there are actually eighteen things that I know about myself, let alone things that you don't know about me, but I'll give it a go because I'm nothing if not sporting. So...
1.) I have a lopsided head. No, really. I know everyone has slight discerpancies between the sides of their bodies, but my head is well fucked. The hair grows longer on one side, I have a lone bumear™, the sideburn (yes, that thing) grows further down the face on one side, I only have grey bits (making me look all distinguished) on one side, and my eyelid on the right has a weird crease in it yet the other side does not. I'm telling you, I am totally skew whiff.
I love that phrase.
2.) I have serious issues with having things in the right place. I probably spend about 10 minutes everyday when I get home from work re-arranging things into what I regard to be their 'correct' positions. Pillows, shoes, remote controls... you name it. There's a name for this I think. Obsessive compulsive disorder anyone? Yep, that's me. But only with things being in the right place. What a weirdo eh?
3.) I am not fond of dogs. They smell and are even hairier than I am. And they lick your face unnecessarily at totally inappropriate moments, like at a funeral or something. And they do massive evil-looking shits. No, I don't like dogs.
4.) I used to be in the St. John's Ambulance. For about four years in my early teens me and my brother were made to go to this first aid thing somewhere in Walton (just outside of Felixstowe) to doss about like only teenagers do and hopefully learn a bit about how to strap someone up when they've fallen off a cliff, and do hospital corners. I learnt a fair bit (although not about hospital corners), took the piss out of some poor lad until he practically had a nervous breakdown (well, you would if you kept getting called Guy the Gorilla and had a song written about you by your tormentors - "I don't know why...Guy's such a...FAT BASTARD!!!" - god we were horrible), laughed a lot at one of my brother's mates getting a dart in the head and not even noticing, AND in all my time in St. John's only ever had to give someone a plaster for their finger at some fun run thing. That was the extent of my practical first aid application.
5.) I win awards, occasionally. A copy of The Iron Man for being good at spelling when I was seven, a titchy little cup for having the neatest tent at St. John's camp (you would not believe the effort that went into that), and second place - or Silver! - at my high school school sports day for the 200 metres. I was only a midget, yet beat loads of chunky musclebound biffers. Wahey!
6.) I also won a tenner in the first ever week of the National Lottery. How amazing is that? Eh? Eh? You're amazed, I know.
7.) My dad is a poet. Yep, a real life poet. Writing poems and everything. He's been on telly and has books and knows people too! You can at once understand where I get my incredible grasp of the english language from, and also see why I'm so famous.
8.) I cannot find any clothes that fit me, ever. I'm 5'6" in my high heels, of slim build, and have no upper body muscles to speak of (or beer belly either, so that's okay) but for some reason all the high street clothes shops in the world don't deem it necessary to stock clothes that might possibly fit someone of my stature. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only bloke on the planet who is slightly short, so why is this? Fucking bastard shops.
9.) I want to be an architect, but I'm not one yet. This is upsetting so I don't want to talk about it.
10.) I have strange rings of hair around my nipples. Not really hairy, and not really offensive, just kind of hairy and there.
11.) I have a cousin who went to Eton with Prince William. So really, I'm practically royalty.
12.) I had a gun pointed at me by some mental pensioner Israeli bloke while I was working at a kibbutz out there many moons ago. It was kind of our fault really. Me and some South African lads and this American bloke I was sharing a room with decided it would be fun to dress up in camo gear and creep ninja-like through the undergrowth around people's houses within the kibbutz. Now, Israel is a nervous place at the best of times. People get blown up, terrorists actually kill people rather than miserably fail to set fire to airports, and everyone is generally always on reasonably high alert. So acting like Hamas infiltrators was probably not the most sensible thing we could have done, but still. It was only a laugh wasn't it? And the old bloke got into trouble for it and we got off scot free! Wahey again!
13.) The only bone I've ever broken is the little toe on my right foot. This was obtained while hoovering my old flat dressed only in my pants. I hoovered rather vigorously and twatted the doorframe with my toe. It hurt. A lot. Nowadays, I always wear shoes while hoovering.
14.) I've only ever been in love properly the once, with the adorably saucy piece of sexable wonderment that is Mrs Timbo, and that's it. I'm extremely satisfied with my lot thankyou very much. There are probably some people out there who think this is weird because, you know, there are like, so many people out there maaaaaannn, but they can get fucked quite frankly because they don't know what they're talking about.
15.) I've never been to a music festival and with any luck I never will. The thought of all that mud and shit and all those loudmouthed wankers and trust-fund hippies with their firesticks and dreadlocks and bollocks fills me with a sense of impending doom. The biggest gig I ever went to was REM at the Milton Keynes bowl in 1996. I went with my mate Ross and had a great time, but despite being at the front for the warm-ups (Belly - remember them? - and Blur) I couldn't see the fucking band we'd actually gone to see because we stupidly chose to get a beer during Blur's set. Then I needed the loo, so decided to go even though the chance of finding Ross again amid a ginormously mahoosive crowd of 65,000 people was practically nil. But I went, relieved myself, and found Ross! I am never doing that again though.
16.) My brother accidentally walloped me on the temple with a hockey stick when I was 13. It didn't knock me out, but I was totally in shock and all over the place for a bit. And it hurt. Apparently, if the stick had caught me about a centimetre to the left I could have died! I know, I know. You're all incredibly grateful that didn't happen. Me too. It did make the inner white of my left eye totally fill up with blood though, so I spent the next month going around school maniacally staring at all and sundry and giving everyone the willies with my 'Eye of Death'. It was one of the most enjoyable months of my life.
17.) The most drunk I've ever been was in Israel. I got so hammered on cheapo vodka that I fell asleep in an outhouse fully clothed, yet woke up in my bed all cosy and fully undressed, with not a clue as to how I'd got there. Another time I fell backwards off a swing and had to be fireman-lifted back to the volunteer's camp. And yet another time I was walking along towards a tree (as you do when you're drunk), stopped as I got near to it, thought about it for a bit, and just fell over backwards for no apparent reason other than the fact that I was next to a tree and it was quite tall. Brilliant days, brilliant.
18.) Lastly, I fucking hate Darwin. The city in Australia, not the evolution bloke, although he might have been a total arsehole. Who can say? No, Darwin the city is a pleasant enough place, but it's about 10 million miles from anywhere useful, is surrounded by water that you can never swim in because it's full of crocodiles or killer jellyfish or giant squid (okay, so I made up the bit about the giant squid, but you still can't swim there) and it's pretty empty and desolate in comparison to all the other major cities in Australia, which aren't exactly bursting at the seams either. But worst of all, it's so incredibly humid and hot up there that all you end up doing, day after day, is sweating like a bitch. I'm pretty sure that for the first week I spent there all I did was sit about in a horrible deckchair, sweat like fuck for five minutes, take a cold shower to cool down, then repeat this cycle ad nauseum for the next god knows how long. It was shit, and as a result I hate the place. The end.
And that, as they say, is that.
Now please listen to this
. It's not aimed at anyone in particular (cos I'm nice, innit?) but it is good nonetheless. And weird.