WINTER: Anti-Freeze/Coolant Time – SAVE MONEY!

WINTER: Anti-Freeze/Coolant Time – SAVE MONEY!

And you thought this blog was all just ranting and porn?

Shame on you!

I’m actually going to pass on a tip here that will save you money!

Longer-term followers will know that The Mighty Uno (my first car) died at the start of this year.  Well, it was going fine, but it was blowing out all its coolant, so probably a head gasket problem.  Not that it’s really relevant…

Sooo… After riding bikes through Winter before this, I’d never skimped on anti-freeze.  Basically, what happens in severe cold is the fluid freezes inside your engine, and as it freezes water expands.  This will crack the shit out of your pipes and even the engine block itself, meaning you can be left with a huge bill and a very broken car/bike.

It’ s not worth saving money here.  Coolant prices have soared over the last few years so you’re looking at paying about £30 for 3 litres of decent name-brand stuff – that’s much cheaper than a new engine, so it’s a bargain!  You also have to change it every 3 years or so or it loses its effectiveness.

Still with me?

So rather than paying £10+ per day topping up the Fiat, I stocked up on a load of pre-mixed anti-freeze from a local Pound Land (for £1 per litre, surprisingly!).  I scrapped The Mighty Uno back in February, and left the rest of the anti-freeze sat in the garage.  Then recently I bought the old Kawasaki GPZ500, and as I had no idea how long its coolant had been in there, decided to change it.  And remembered the cheap-ass coolant.

I tested it with a proper tester for a laugh, and all the balls floated (it’s very technical), indicating that this cheap stuff was good for at least -30c or -40c temperatures!  For reference, if I’d bought the usual expensive stuff to mix myself I’d have diluted it to protect to around -20c.

Gawd, this was supposed to be a short blog!

So the moral is, if you haven’t changed your coolant for 3 years in your car or bike, for the sake of £3 (most cars or bikes take less than 3l to fill), get some of this stuff and get it in there! 

It’s from Pound Land (but I think other similar shops stock it, too) and called ‘Pro-Driver anti freeze‘.

And don’t say I never give you anything!

Nasty Evil Ninja – A Poet???

Nasty Evil Ninja – A Poet???

I’ve had literally ‘a few’ people ask me about this lately.  For my sins, I am, in fact, a poet.  Or at least was…

It’s really where all this started.

I was forced to write a crappy poem at school in an English lesson in 1990.  So, after being bored silly with ‘Dulce Et Decorum Es’, I sat there and wrote this:

The Chicken

A funny thing happened
To me the other day,
I was walking along
Down an alleyway,
When a bloke in a hat
Said “Psst! Come over here!”
Showed me a chicken,
And whispered in my ear.
“Young lad, this chicken
Could change your life-
It could make you rich,
And pull you a wife.”

To an offer like that
I couldn’t say no,
Asked “How much?”
And hoped it was low.
“Fifty quid to you, son,”
He held up a hand,
“I can’t go any lower
‘Cause I bought it for a grand.”
I gave him the money,
Looked at the hen,
Turned to thank the man
But he was gone again.

So I was walking along
With a chick under my arm,
When I noticed that it
Was surprisingly calm.
I held it out,
And wobbled its’ head,
But it fell on the ground-
The chicken was dead!

I couldn’t believe it!
I just stared in surprise!
All along
He’d been telling me lies!
Now I’m fifty quid less,
With a motionless hen,
And I’m telling you this
So it won’t happen again.

It got a good reaction!  Hell, even Girls seemed to like it!

Of course, my teenage angst soon took over, and stuff got far more moody and twisted.

Most rhyming poems are crap.  They compromise what you’re trying to say because you’re more concerned with trying to find something that rhymes with ‘incandescent’ than just explaining how angry you are!  (Having said that, probably my two favourites DO rhyme, but meh – shup!)

I found people liked this moody non-rhyming stuff even more.  More importantly, Girls liked it!

I found this a bit strange, because most of my poems aren’t actually very nice!  It should also be noted here that I NEVER spend weeks writing a poem like some – mine all came out fast.  A bit like being sick.  I doubt many took me longer than 30 minutes in total (with no more edits after I declared it finished), which made it an excellent release for me.

I went through a period of several years where I’d  write out my latest poems and hand them out by request to several Girls.  I figured this poetry stuff could work!

This is my most published poem overall:


She is rape,
For she holds my heart against my will,
Her icy clutch
Freezing me from inside.
Her playful mind is warped
Like a lioness toying with her prey.
She sees my pain as nothing,
When her own life is desolate.
My joys will never excite her,
Though with my self-destruction
She grows strong enough to fade away.

Dark, huh?

My sister actually acted out one of my poems with her friends when she was at school, which is quite possibly better than being published in a book or magazine!  That was another comedy poem about three old ladies causing havoc in a supermarket, titled ‘Clean Up In Aisle Three’.

For now, though, I’ll leave you with one of my few poems I can remember instantly.  I think it’s got a great flow to it, and don’t feel the rhyme compromises the feel or the words.  And if you think this stuff is dark – you should see some of the lyrics I’ve written for my bands!

Lessons Learned From Scars

A fool to believe
If he wore on his sleeve
His heart – he could have it returned.
For his long drawn-out pain
Just what did he gain?
More scars and more lessons learned.
When she returned his kiss
He felt ultimate bliss
But never, since that long time ago
Did she show that she cared
Or was even aware
Of his pain which swallowed him whole.

EROTIC STORY: “Drive Me To The Edge!”

EROTIC STORY: “Drive Me To The Edge!”

He was watching her as she drove.

It was a huge turn-on to see her handling the car, bare legs straining against the pedals, and the lazy way she caressed the gear stick, sliding her slender fingers over the steering wheel.

The atmosphere between them was electric.  He was already hard in anticipation, willing his erection away so he could give her the full show.

She was squirming with her own wetness.  They spoke briefly, but they were both glad they could use the radio as a distraction – not that it was distracting either from what they were about to do.

She had scouted out some of the quieter roads a few days before, finding the spot in a gateway that she pulled into now.

Fucking dog walkers were the main problem – they popped up everywhere!  Then again, so might Doggers, if they knew what was going on!

She pulled on the handbrake and switched the engine off.

Sun shone over the surrounding fields, a warm breeze softly rustling the hedgerows.  The sound of a distant tractor floated in through the open windows, and they both took a deep breath of fresh summer grassy air.

When they looked at each other the whole world outside the car could have caught fire.  They flung their arms around each other – lips meeting first before their arms wrapped around each other, hands hungrily moving over each others backs.

His hand unfastened a few buttons on her shirt and slipped inside to cup her breast, her eager nipple hard to his touch.

“I want to feel you inside me” she breathed at him, shifting her position to face him better.  Her hand ran over his inner thigh, then slipped between his legs.  He looked down with interest before she found the seat mechanism and slid his seat backwards to it’s furthest point.

He giggled a bit and was about to say something about funfairs, but then she was stretching her leg over his lap to straddle him.

Her hands scrabbled at his trousers, as he lowered the back of his seat so he could lean back a bit, and the summer air felt cool to the hotness of her hands as she sprung him free.

She worked both her hands on him slowly, looking deeply into his eyes.  His hands held her hips, then ran down her thighs, lifting her short skirt and touching the bare flesh beneath.

She moved herself forwards, still holding him in one hand and pressing his cock against her so he could feel her own dripping wetness.

Groaning, one hand went back to her breast, and she stroked his penis with one hand as she thrust her hips against him, herself letting out a cry as she slid against his slick shaft.

Her legs stopped her as she tried to move forwards onto him, and he moaned in frustration as his tip was briefly inside her before she pulled away again.

She placed her hands on his chest, holding him back in his seat, and then shimmied herself around so she was sitting on his lap, her legs outside his.

She pressed her hands into his chest as she lifted herself up, and then lowered herself slowly onto him, her head thrown back as he slid deep inside her.

Holding him inside her, she turned lay her her back onto his strong shoulders, turning her head so they could kiss.  She moved her hips in a wave motion, and then pressed her thighs together and squirmed over his lap, and he whispered her name in her ear at her tightness around him.

One hand held her firmly around her waist, the other unfastening more of her buttons before massaging her breasts.

Her hand moved as she opened her legs again, and he looked down over her breasts as she stroked gently at her clit, feeling herself get even more wet knowing he could see her.

She lifted her feet and put them on the edge of the dashboard, lifting herself up his length as he moved both his hands around her to steady her and hold her tightly.

Suddenly she brought her thighs together sharply, making him cry out, and that cry making her cum hard.  Her spasms set him off, too, thrusting himself deep inside her as her muscles clenched tightly around his own throbbing penis, and he bit lightly on her earlobe as he came with her.

Their desperate movements slowed and his hands held her more gently.  They kissed softly, her beautiful eyes locked on his, as she softly rocked her hips.

Eventually she slid off him, and they drove back to civilisation, leaving the radio switched off.

Their smiles sang better words than any song could have…

How To Deal With A Crash

How To Deal With A Crash

When you ride a bike, it happens.  At some point you’ll either lose it all on your own, hit a filthy great slick of deisel, or some cock-rag will drive their car into you.

Someone (mrtommygunwhite) from the forum asked for advice on what really happens during the whole crashing process, and so I did my best to answer:

At the time:

Enjoy it!  Seriously.  Crashing is a Hell of a lot of fun!  I remember my first ever crash (highsided my TZR going towards a roundabout), and when I was flying in mid-air I saw the astonished faces of two Policemen in their car coming towards me!

Or sliding down the road at high speed once you’ve come off.

Or locking both wheels of my RGV250R for the 4th time, totally sideways, as I tried to avoid the huge spikey truck that had pulled out and stalled in the road ahead, and then getting flipped off and between the wheels of the truck.

Sure, it hurts, but in that moment, and looking back afterwards, it’s a unique experience.  WHEEEEEEEE!!! 

The only worry I’ve had is to try and keep my helmet from smashing against the road (they’re expensive!), and if you know you’re going to flip or roll get your limbs in so they don’t flail about and come off.

Just after:

Yeah, it’s not so brilliant from here on in.  My first thought is normally “Nooooo – not my bike!!!” and getting to is ASAP to pick it up and assess the damage.

Next it’ll be what’s missing from me.  If it’s a bad one (actually, you should ALWAYS do this first) just stay the fk down.  Have a nice lie down for a while and see if you’re still breathing.  Have a little bit of a gentle wiggle to see if anything hurts.  Then have a look and hope your toes aren’t in front of your visor, or anything daft.

If you’re not hurt, then try and control any rage so you don’t rip someone out of their car window and beat them to death with their own gouged-out eyeballs. 

A car pulled out on me on an island, and I banked it over and thudded into the side of her, somehow staying upright and still on the bike (which was written off for front suspension damage).  I was -ing livid, and have absolutely no doubt I’d have pounded the dumb bints face so badly she’d look like a dropped pasty.  Luckily, she only stopped about 50 yards down the road, and I’d have looked pretty damned stupid running all that way just to get to her.  I shouted lots, though.

Dealing with the fear, i.e. the nightmares

This can be bad, but remember they ARE just nightmares!  Afterwards I’d often jump off the bloody bed thinking I’d crashed again, or locked the front etc.

I do think it’s good to get back on a bike ASAP, but when you do you should take it easy, rather than going at it full-on straight away.  It’ll take a while to build up your confidence again.

Weirdly, BEFORE a few of my crashes I’ve had dreams for a few weeks before it happened.  Like dreams of losing the front on the brakes before someone did a U-turn and I did indeed lock up the front and go down.

In that crash, back in January 2008, that is all I remember.  I was filtering, saw a cars wheels turn before he immediatley floored it and pulled out.  I hit the brakes HARD, remember losing the front (not that I had a chance of stopping at that distance)…. and then I was sliding down the road on my back.  I even remember trying to hold my head up (it was a Shoei!) and just giving up, letting my head drop because I figured I was probably an ambulance case.

How did I get through a solid car?  Did my body actually hit the car?  I have no idea, and to be honest I’m not sure I really want to have that memory come back…

Oh, and remember your adrenaline will be through the roof after a crash, and you may not notice broken ribs and stuff for hours afterwards.  Get theeself to hospital if there’s any doubt (a chest impact could do heart damage that will kill you hours or days later etc).  And remember you WILL be in serious pain the next day, even if you think you feel fine at the time.

And finally the people who are out to get us – the trolls:

They’re not!  They’re all just regular people who have brain-dead moments.

Take a walk around a supermarket and note how people park their trolleys in the most stupid and selfish places, or push them without any kind of awareness of their surroundings.  That’s pretty much how most people drive.

Royal Tittage


Royal Tittage

So Kate Middleton, future Queen of England, has been snapped by the tabloids going topless on a holiday.

Oh the disgrace!

Do I mean The Media?  The underhanded pack of bastards, snapping some young girl in a private moment, and then publishing the photographs all over the world for everyone to letch over!

Nope.  I don’t care about them.

So, surely I mean Princess Kate herself?  Someone in such a position of power.  A role model.  Someone to be looked up to and respected!  How could she be so stupid to let her guard down?  Surely she knows the press are constantly on her looking for pics a tenth of that amount of juiciness (f’narr!)!?


I mean YOU.

You useless pack of self-righteous bastards.  Get off your high horses.  Stop slagging her off and insulting her breasts, or blaming her or The Media.  Because YOU are the cause, and YOU are the problem.

They’re tits.

Ooh, big whoop!  I’ve seen them before.  Hell, I’ve even got some myself!

Should Royals never be seen naked, and if you think this, how are you enjoying your repressive religion-inspired go-against-human-nature bullshit hypocrisy?

I’ve blogged before about how it’s fine to splatter a mans tits all over everywhere, but not a womans!  Oh, no!  We can’t show the female, slightly bigger version of a mans tits!

I saw my lovely finacee’s titties only this very morning, so why would I give a crap about some random rich girls tits in a newspaper?

Get over yourselves.

If people didn’t want to see this stuff, nobody would buy it.  If Princess Kate wasn’t a media whore the cameras wouldn’t be on her anyway.

By all means murder the low-down shits who force this kind of press down our throats all day every day – but don’t bullshit yourself, either.



Spiders! They’re Coming To Get You!

Spiders! They’re Coming To Get You!

It’s that time of year when we’re suddenly under siege from spiders.

They’ve been hiding away growing -ing massive, and now they all decide they want to come and sit in your -ing living room, putting all their little feet up on your face whilst they watch the latest season of Big Brother.

Horrible little hairy-legged wank-faced twats!

If you walk around the streets in the evening, you’ll hear the piercing screech of women who’ve just discovered some hose spider crawling over their Ugg boots.

The men, choking back a scream themselves and leaving a small trail of wee like a fleeing rabbit, have to pretend they’re not bothered by spiders.

I have a pair of tonfa sticks that I use for the dual purpose of tomping unwanted burglars AND spiders.  The size of some of the buggers (spiders – not burglars) lately has meant I’ve had to take two swings just to break their backs!

One knew a bit of spider kung fu, and blocked and then rolled, escaping under the bed where you just KNOW that bastard will wait until you fall asleep and them smother your face with its big plump abdomen as it licks at the moisture of your eyeballs.

They say we eat 6 spiders a year in our sleep, on average.  Just what the frikkin’ FRICK are they doing climbing into your mouth in the first place?!  It’s not a -ing spa, you little boss-eyed shits!

And how are they so fast?!  They never used to be!  Have they discovered Red Bull, or something??

And that’s just inside your house.

Take a stroll up your garden path, and what do you see?


Because they -ing wait until it’s dark or the sun is in your eyes, and then, THEN they build webs Tarzan couldn’t have got out of.

And they hang there.  Huge fat squidgy body like a beer-bellied bully.

Waiting for you to come flailing through their webs waving your hands around like a schizophrenic drunk, and then the drop into the hood of your coat and wait until you’re 10 miles down the M42 at 90mph before they crawl inside your -ing ear!!!

I sprayed a filthy great house spider with 90% pure Isopropyl Alcohol last night.

What did he do?

He slowly turned around and staggered back into his little den behind the mantelpiece.

30 minutes later I heard a crash and saw he’d thrown out an empty can of Special Brew.

I’ve created an alcoholic tramp of a spider who’s probably breeding little chavvy spider kids behind my mantelpiece.

I’m either going to get the git on Jeremy Kyle, or if he comes out for a spliff I’ll tonfa his ass.

And so the yearly battle begins…