Stropping – Make Your (Male & Female) Razors Last Forever!

Some skills and techniques are lost or made redundant over time.

If you’ve ever seen someone using a straight razor – or ‘cut throat’, like Sweeney Todd used to slash peoples throats – you may have seen them run the edge of the blade along a belt-type strip before they start shaving.

This is called ‘stropping’.  It keeps the edge of the blade sharp for a smooth and close cut.

What you may not know, is that this technique actually works on all modern razors!

I pay about £400 for a pack of 3 blades for my Gilette Mach 3 Turbo, and some people replace the blade after a week, or even a few days.  That kind of money builds up quickly.

I’d heard that stropping worked on these, but never tried it.  A few years ago I looked further into it, watching a few YouTube videos and looking at a load fo confusing techniques and explainations.

What you need to know is that it works.  I’d already been using my razor for ages, and it was at that stage where it sort-of grabs at your hair as you shave, and feels more like it’s ripping it out than cutting it.  Months later I was using that same blade and it felt like it had only been out the packet for a few days!

People online are claiming they’ve used the same multi-blade super-duper Gillette Wilkinson Turbo Excel 19 Blade Super Vibro Cut for 6 months, or even over a year!  This works on both mens and womens razors.

I could bang on about how it doesn’t technically ‘sharpen’ the blades, as such, and you can only strop one side of the blade – but the fact is THIS WORKS!

All you have to do is run your razor down the leg of your denim jeans a few times and you’ll see the effects instantly.

I’d recommend using the calf of your leg.  Run the razor down this in long strokes about 10-20 times before and after each use.  Run it BACKWARDS down your jeans – i.e. the OPPOSITE way from which you’d shave.  This won’t harm your jeans at all.  If you’re really worried about this, get some old jeans and hang them up and use those.

You need to use about the same pressure as you would when you’re shaving.

And that’s it!  A few strokes and you’ll save hundreds of pounds.  Probably thousands if you’re a hairy hippie who lives to be really old.

Give it a try, and come back and post a comment once you see the massive difference it makes!

Stop being conned by all the huge corporations!

The Decline Of The MD80

MD80 Helmet Cam

I’ve been using an MD80 camera mounted inside my helmet to film all my motorcycling adventures for around five years.

I started out with the Veho Muvi camera that it copied – and although the Veho had better battery life and lasted overall for around 2 years, the cost difference meant I switched to the far cheaper MD80.

The MD80 had some drawbacks – some versions have a different focus point, that you can’t really adjust.  The battery life declines slowly but surely, so that effectively they only last up to about 6 months.  That wasn’t so much of a problem, as you can now buy them for £6-£10, so they’re pretty disposable.

The main problem I’ve found in the last couple of years is that, from brand new, the battery, which used to last for an hour of recording time (the same as the Veho Muvi), will now last for 30 minutes at best!

Picture quality has improved on them, but file size has also increased.  I have been using a wide-angle lens with mine for a while now (see pics) which also improves things a little.

The second biggest problem, however, is that where they used to record in 30 minute segments (again, like the Veho), the latest 3 or 4 that I’ve had have only recorded in 10 minute segments.  This is compounded by a 30-60 second gap as file is closed and a new one created to record.  So you miss anything that happens during that time.  It also makes it pretty useless to record alongside another camera, as when you join each file from the MD80 it’s out of sync after each 10 minute segment.

I could switch back to Veho Muvi, bite the bullet, and pay at least £60 for one, but to be honest things have moved on.  640p no longer cuts it, with so many other full HD cams on the market for the money.

So it may be time to retire the smallest, and only real covert camera that I use whilst riding.

I don’t particularly want one of these Telly-Tubby arrangements for a helmet camera, but it’s looking like I might have to.  I guess a side-mounted bullet-style camera is the next best option?

Shame, because the whole Veho/MD80 camera was perfect for my needs… and surely someone COULD now make a HD camera the same size??

MD80 wide angle lens

Burger King? Burger Kunts, More Like!

Burger King?  Burger Kunts, More Like!

It was drawing to the end of a long Friday at work, when I found a link to some vouchers – Buy one, get one free on Big Macs and loads of Burger King stuff.

I was already starving to death, and so by the time I’d printed them off and cut them, I’d already hatched a cunning plan.

I’d seen the TV ads for the BK Angus Burger, and it looked pretty good.

Unfortunately, every BK I’d ever been in was staffed by the dumbest FUCKTARDS I have ever encountered in my life!

I swear to God not one time have they got my order right!  The last time all I ordered was a Big Whopper, Fries, and some Onion Rings.  It doesn’t get much simpler.  No, I don’t want a drink.  No, I don’t want the Whopper Meal, else I’d have asked for that.  No, it DOES NOT work out cheaper if I have the meal, because I have to pay 60p more AND I can’t have the drink because I’m on a fucking bike… etc.

Same story as every damn fast food purchase whilst in my leathers.

After about 20 minutes of Quasi-fucking-modo’s Grandson trying to work it out, I got home to discover I did have the Onion Rings (and that took a LOT of fighting to make sure) – but no bastard fries!!!

Plus BK stuff costs more than McD’s, and it’s all smaller.  Fuck that.

So, being the forgiving and adventurous sort, I decided to give The King another chance to appease the Nasty Evil Ninja.

Walking in, eyeing Wolf Boy and Lurch suspiciously as they loped about behind the counter, I produced my Buy One Get One Free Angus Burger Voucher, nodding a bit.  Yeah, bitch – look what I’ve got!

“We don’t take them.” Lurch sprayed at me through his mouldy brace.

I looked up at the big Burger King sign, just in case it had become a McDonalds or Filthy McNasty’s since I was last there.  Nope – The King was still here.

“We’re franchised to the motorway services – so we don’t accept regular vouchers.”

Oh, I see!  So you can rip us right the fuck off, eh?  Thought I.

As I’d been waiting to be served, I was looking for some kind of price list on display so I knew how much some fries would cost me with my Angus Burgers.  For the life of me I couldn’t see any prices anywhere!  The old adage “If you have to ask – you can’t afford it” is very wise.  But not in a fast food joint, surely?!

I couldn’t exactly turn around and go somewhere else for food now, or I’d look a bit silly… so I glanced up at the pictures and ordered the best beast I could see – a Triple Pepper Double Angus Burger or something – and large fries.

“Six pounds seventy whatever.”  Lurch said.

I beg your fucking pardon???  Almost SEVEN POUNDS for a burger and fries????

I paid as Wolf Boy capered about getting the food.

“There you go,”  he said as he handed the bag over, “Triple Pepper Double Anus Belcher and Regular Fries.”

Ah.  There we go.  I ask for TWO THINGS, and they get it wrong!!!!

Rage fuelled by hunger was tenuously held at bay as I informed him of the error of his ways, and he threw another bag of fries at me.

I sauntered out of (hopefully) the last Burger King that I will ever visit…

My First Ever ‘Real’ Valentines Day (And Why I’m A Rubberhead)

Can you remember your first real Valentines Day – that one where you got something or gave something for the first time?

Our family has never done this crap where your Mum sends you a card.  Aside from hearing the ‘Deliverance’ banjo’s in my head even thinking about that, I suspect it cheapens real love and its meaning, and no doubt turns you into some cold selfish monster, with no appreciation of love from a partner.

Hehehe – how many readers has that lost me then??

Seriously though, the first time…

In the Summer holiday before I started Middle School (which made me 9), I met a girl who lived in my village, and fancied her straight away.  Her Dad raced karts, and she showed me her garage with his kart in – err, that sounds really bad!  Anyway, when I started school, I saw her again, but she was in a different class.  Being young and stupider, I admired her from afar, and never approached her.

A few years later, I finally spoke to her, and it turned out that wasn’t the same girl I’d met before school.  In fact, maybe I dreamed that whole thing, because I never saw a girl near that house again (and I rode past a lot on my bike that Summer!!!).  Spooky, but back to the point we must go:

It was the fourth and final year of Middle School when I finally plucked up some courage.  We were in the same class the year before and also for the fourth year, so I had spoken to her.  I used to piss her off and she’d smack me in the balls – it was true love!

I decided to use my Ninja skills and send her a Valentines Card.

I carefully cut all the letters I needed out of a newspaper, and like some kind of demented kidnapper, used sticky tape (we didn’t have glue) to put them all in an anonymous card.  It was probably something a little like this:

It seemed like a great idea at the time, ok?  It’s only looking back now that I’m surprised she didn’t report me to the Police!!!

I snuck the card into her desk unnoticed, and watched and waited as she discovered it and puzzled over who had sent it.

She didn’t know I had a major crush on her, and my friends knew even less!

Still, later in the day she confronted me with it.  She looked a bit surprised, but really happy with it (bet she’s into bondage and kidnapping fantasies now), and asked me to my face if I’d sent her it.

*groans*

And so I point-blank denied it!!!

I still kick myself for that today!  I was terrified at the thought of admitting that to her, so I didn’t!!!

Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t… either way, I’m a -ing rubberhead.

A few months later she ended up with someone else at a school disco, and that was my first heartbreak….

A very hard lesson learned, as we went to different high schools, and I never saw her again – apart from one weird psychic dream incident that I saw her after, but was too shocked to speak to her and she never saw me…

7 years later I still thought and dreamed about her.  I like to think that after all that time, it taught me NEVER to sit and say nothing again.

Tell them!!!

Get out there, and send that girl or boy you fancy a Valentines Card – and SIGN IT from you!!!

What have you got to lose?  You’ll regret it if you don’t!

Umm, I wouldn’t recommend doing it in kidnapping style though… although… maybe there’s a great idea there for some ‘holding my heart hostage’ comment…

Hope you all have a great day, and send SOMEONE a card – it’ll make their day!

***Special Note***
The girl concerned in this is now a friend on Facebook.  This blog is actually a repost from a few years ago, and I DID come clean and even gave her the link to this blog!  She said she always suspected it was from me!

Bulls Do Not Like Monkeys!!!

Bulls Do Not Like Monkeys!!!

I grew up in the small village of Alvechurch.  As a rural area, walking for 5 minutes in any direction put you in the middle of a field.

This was great as kids and is still as good today!

There are also many beautiful places I know of which are hidden away, and that makes them even more special when I reveal them to new people in my life.  Of course, they were also great places to go and get pissed/stoned/build fires etc.

One day I was with my mate in one of our favourite haunts.  We’d had a few, and were in good spirits.  It seemed, however, that the farmer had decided to put a herd of around 30 bullocks into our field.

This came as a bit of a shock, but they seemed pretty nervous, and were huddled together at the top of a slope and leaving us alone.

I do a great impression of a monkey.  I caper around, screeching like a an angry chimp and flinging my arms around.  I thought this might impress the bulls.  Well it caught their attention straight away.

They all stood staring at us, and we thought it was all hilarious!  Ha ha!  Stupid bulls don’t know what to make of me!

Then they started moving towards us.

Oh shit.

Brave as we were, we decided straight away that the best plan was to run away like a pair of monkey-impersonating girls.

They sped up and broke into a canter.

Crashing between some bushes, we flung ourselves down a steep bank, still laughing at this point.  The bulls stopped at the top, drooling down over us as we carefully judged how to best get some of the trees between us and them if they decided to brave the slope.  Simple enough – if they came down we’d put a tree between us and them and hop away to freedom.

We knew they were really mad when they started stamping their feet and snorting at us!  Surely bulls only do that stuff in the movies???  I looked at my mate.  He looked back at me.  We both looked at the bulls.

Some of the bulls ran off to the sides – then we realised… THEY WERE COMING AROUND BOTH SIDES!!!

It was still funny because it was absurd, but our laughing was now tainted with a good healthy dose of Terror!

We separated, and somehow I got the short straw.  Ahead of me was a swamp.

I looked back to see filthy great snarling bulls charging towards me, and that was all I needed!

I ran into the swamp, water slopping up past my knees as I went directly through the middle, then I hit hard ground and legged it across the open ground, praying the swamp would at least slow them down!

Luckily, it did, and I made it out of the field and met back with my also-escaped mate!

So lesson learned there – Bulls do not like monkeys.

And I’m an idiot.