Friday, 24 February 2023

Beast In Black - February 2023 - Manchester

 Well hello there my reader friends,

So, what have I been up? Glad you asked (Well, I am going to tell you even if you didn't. It would be a very strange blog if I just waited for suggestions. Though if you have any suggestion what I can do with my blog do tell. Polite suggestions anyway before anyone gets any ideas)

So last night, 23rd February 2023, I went to a heavy metal concert in Manchester. And it wasn't my first one let me tell you. Cause I like heavy metal music. I like it loud (though not too loud. Don't want to upset the neighbours!). The band were Beast In Black. Which you would know, or could at least guess, from this blog's title.

So Beast In Black are mainly from Finland though the lead singer is Greek. They play what is termed 'Power' metal and have quite a heavy use of keyboards and, at times, a disco beat. They have plenty of videos over on YouTube (doesn't everyone!). I actually first saw them in November 2022 when they supported Nightwish and thought they were pretty good so when they announced their own tour I bought a ticket. 

The doors opened at around 7:30pm and though the queue was quite substantial when I arrived at Manchester Academy, once the security guys started letting people in , it wasn't too long before we entered the building and made our way though into the basement which was called the club area. Which was a strange room. There was the stage naturally and a clear area in front of the stage with the bar down one side. So far so normal. After this point however things go a bit different. Maybe about three quarters of the way down were the pillars supporting the roof with a further clear area. Beyond that and up a small set of stairs or a ramp was a seating area. It was too one side that held the merchandise stall for both Beast In Black and the support act Firewind. And here was once problem. If you were in the clear area next to the stage then you're view wasn't too bad (provided the person in front of you wasn't taller, wider or possibly both). After that you had the pillars to contend with. I'm guessing the room isn't necessarily set up for gigs, or at least not with the number of people present this time. I could be wrong.

So onto the music. Firewind, I had not heard of before though they seemed to have plenty of fans in the crowd. For me, they were ok. I wasn't blown away by them but they were decent enough that nobody slipped outside for a ciggie or a quick vape.

Ans so onto the main act. Plenty of energy from the band and frequent cries of "Ok Manchester!" or a variant of ensure the band quickly got the audience on side and kept them on side for the duration. There was a mix of the newer songs from the latest album 'Dark Connection' as well as older material from both 'Bersker' and 'From Hell With Love'. 

Now, and this is probably I'm not an ideal person review this songs, Beast In Black are still a pretty new band to me so while there were some in the crowd who knew the songs within the first few seconds ,and though I did recognise 'Blind and Frozen', 'Crazy, Mad, Insane', and 'Sweet True Lies' straight off the bat, I wasn't one of them. It might have taken until the chorus at the very least the first couple of lines of the songs but I got there.

I'm also not one to start shouting, screaming and jumping around. It's just not me. If you want to go that way, then go for your life dude because I'm not going to stop you. I'm more of an observe and enjoy the whole atmosphere thank you very much. But enjoyed the evening I did and it was all over far too quickly and I and everyone else shuffled out in the Manchester night.

So did I enjoy the band? Yes.

Would I see them again? Yes.

Did I like the venue? Not so much. But with a smaller audience it might work ok. 

Anyway, I hope you like these inane ramblings. Maybe I'll do another for the next gig I go to in April. This time it's turn of Sabaton and apparently they have a tank on stage...

Ta ta for now



Tuesday, 21 February 2023

New Year goals - Maybe

 Well hello my reader friends,

Anyone still there? Anyone?

It's been quite a while but I'm back. *dusts down the blog*

And this will hopefully turn into something that people might want to follow as I try and navigate the choppy and scary waters of a goal I decided to set myself for this year. 

Drawing and painting.

Yes, you read that right. I going to try a bit of drawing and then paint something. And it started this very evening

I don't believe in making New Years resolutions but this is a bit different. It might actually be fun. Ok, I grant you, it might turn out to be as fun as toothache but I might as well give it a go. 

So, I went and got some pencils, a sketch pad and nice little book called 'Drawing for the Absolute Beginner'. So onwards to the first part which is handily titled 'First steps'. 

Drawing lines, boxes and circles. Not the most difficult thing in the world as you might think but one has to start somewhere. 


So, anyway, it's a start isn't it?

Stay tuned to see how this goes on. I might try some more tomorrow. Or it might be at the weekend. Let's just say it won't be on Thursday as I will be out at a gig. Now that's a thought. I might do a blog report on the gigs I've got planned for this year. But there will be more adventures in drawing a painting throughout the year. 

So, see ya later. 

Wednesday, 28 October 2020

No More - A Short Story

 Well hello reader friends,

Well, those of you still hanging around. Waiting patiently for me to dispense more pearls of wisdom to help get you through life and bring joy and sunshine to these cold, dark, winter months.

Or you just want to waste five minutes before Strictly Come Dancing starts on the tele so you thought you'd read the inane drivel written by a complete moron. And to those people in the latter camp I say... Yep, here I am and here it is. 

So I'll try and do this more often. Again. Well, alright, I'll do it when I can be bothered. It's not like you can complain either. I mean, you're getting it for nothing. 

Anyway, for now. I present to you my entry which I sent, full of hope and optimism, into a 'Post Apocalypse' themed short story competition. Suffice to say, it sank faster than the sodding Titanic. 

Enjoy.

-----

No More

 

Well hello stranger and let us bid you welcome to our humble village. We insist that you stay with us this evening as we would not hear of someone sleeping out in the open when we have ample space for you to rest. The inn keeper across the square will have a room for you.

We are quite busy this evening as tonight is one of our most important nights of the year. An evening of quiet reflection as a village before we retell the tale of Steven. He is an important figure in the area and from this village no less. Once a year a member of the village is chosen to recount the tale and, unfortunately, this year, it is I who has been picked. I fear though, I am not much of a story teller so my turn will not be remembered with any great joy. But maybe you will permit me to practise on you first.

No one remembers exactly how the old ways died out. Some said it was through a terrible disease that spread from land to land. Others say that the great and powerful nations fought with each other until no one was left alive to figure out who won and who lost. Not that it mattered. Those that survived left the built-up areas. They were great when things were working but not so good when things stopped. We have had stories passed down to us. People relied on devices that could talk to anyone in the world yet they never talked to their neighbour. It is strange that people would choose to live in a tower, crowded on top of each other, with some even living in the clouds. Who would want to live that far away from the ground? We have heard of a phrase ‘concrete jungle’. I do not understand fully what it was but from the description that we have been given I do not believe I would find it very agreeable. After all, who would want to live that close to other people and away from the green of their world?

But I veer from the story and I apologise. For the first few years the people struggled. The stories say the winters were the worst and many more died until the survivors managed to find their feet and began to work the land again. They toiled the fields and sowed crops, farming the food they needed to survive. They put aside their differences for the sake of survival. Work together or die: it was that simple. Eventually some of the small communities banded together to form larger settlements. All the while it was agreed that they all needed each other if the human race was going to carry on. Our village started over in the square. Now, as I said, it is the day of Steven. It is said that he dug the first well that we have refined over the years and generations and we are thankful to him for his efforts though it is not the reason we celebrate him. He would not wish to be venerated in such fashion though for it is his virtues of humility and humbleness that we will remember. And we tell the story of how he turned away those that wished to control the village and have power over everyone.

For I said that everyone banded together in the hope that all would survive but that wasn’t entirely the truth. It would be more accurate to say at the very beginning the people banded together but after a while there were some that decided they wanted more than their share. They formed gangs that would roam from village to village and through violent means would try to take what they wanted. These people weren’t above the most underhand ways of kidnapping children and the deaths of the elders and the weak to get their message across to the rest of the communities

At the time Steven didn’t know the future. He had just been married to his wife, Sarah, and they were very happy. The whole of their village had attended the ceremony and had been genuinely pleased for the couple. He was known to be the quieter one but also a good man. It is said that while he was tall, he was also slim and wiry with jet black hair and a gentle smile.  He was pleasant but kept himself to himself for the most part though, if anyone was in genuine need of help, he wouldn’t he hesitate to offer his services.  We think he helped build our main hall and it is said that he would be the first to start work in the morning and the last to finish at supper time. I do not know if that is true but it sounds like something he might do if the stories are accurate. Sarah was the more outgoing of the pair. She is said to have had hair as blonde as gold and would light up the room wherever she went. It is also said that she was blessed with a sharp tongue that could cut a man dead with just a word. I often wonder how two people who were clearly the opposite of each other could come together so readily yet, according to the tales carried down, they were drawn to each other and could not be separated. They brought out the best in each other. He brought a calming influence into her life and taught her to think before speaking, if only some of the time, while she gave him a dose of confidence to go with the humble nature. It was a happy day in the village when the two were married over there by the well. It’s a shrine to them now but I will get to that part soon. The whole of the village joined in the celebrations and each contributed what they could, be it part of the ceremony or a gift of food for the celebration. They had endured much and enjoyed little so now was a time to cheer and finally give thanks that maybe, just maybe, a new dawn had arrived. The villagers dared to hope that a better future was on its way. And for a time that was how it seemed to go. The spring wedding turned into a beautiful summer and a strangely warm autumn, as if the world had agreed that they had toiled enough and they should have enough to get them through the winter. Things rarely go to plan though do they? And the villagers found that the world may give with one hand but it is very quick to take away with the other.

The warlords came during the harvest most years. The old one, a man named Thomas, said to be a giant of a man and unbeatable in a fight had grown old. A beard, once black as the night, was now mainly grey and the scars on face and body belied the slowing down of his reflexes. When he arrived the year before a gleaming new scar ran from his nose to the top of his ear and he was sporting a black eye patch over his left eye. But though he ruled with a will of iron he was also fair and never took his anger out on the villagers. He just took what he said was his protection tribute and went on his way. His successor was far worse. For where Thomas was fair, Michael was cruel. But his was a cold cruelty born out of the desire to see innocence suffer and die and because he enjoyed the pain he could inflict on others. But he was as petulant as a young child as well. He would lash out at the most innocuous slight or perceived insult at his stature. He was a small man both physically and in moral fortitude. Steven was a very modest man but Michael was not and he flaunted his wealth everywhere he went. He believed he was untouchable and everyone else was just there to be of use to him and be cast aside when he tired of you. The villages soon came to hate him. Steven and Sarah had been married for two summers when he came into the village for his yearly protection tribute. This year though Sarah must have caught his eye so he demanded she be taken to his fortress with them. At first the village would not give her up and Steven stood between her and Michael. It was then Michael’s cruelty shone through. He ordered his men to kill three of the old women, there and then, and set fire to every building in the village should we not give Sarah to him. The villagers stood their ground at first with the old women even loudly proclaiming that their deaths would not be in vain should it deprive Michael of a little fun. The village would be rebuilt they said. Sarah herself defused the situation. She let go of Steven’s hand and walked in the space between Michael and the villagers. Her words will forever be remembered. “I will not let anyone die in my name if I could have prevented it,” she said. “For then we will be no better than those who would take without putting back something in return.”

It is said that the moment Sarah was put in the cart along with the first part of the tribute that it started raining and the downpour continued until she was returned two evenings later. The horseman came ambling into the village just as they were preparing for the evening meal as if he had no concerns in the world. He just rode into the village square and dumped her body on the ground. Her dress was bloodied and torn and her face was covered in cuts and bruises. Steven raced to her and cradled her in his arms but the horse rider just looked down at him and smirked.

“Apparently she put up quite the fight,” he said. “At least, at first she did.”

The silence echoed around the village and the only sound was the rain at it hit the puddles. Steven just knelt there watching the rider slowly make his way out of the village and disappear into the mist.  At first, he refused to let her go. Eventually, and it apparently took four men to separate him from her, her body was taken from the square so she could be cleaned up before we gave her a proper funeral. But Steven just sat there saying nothing. For another three days he just sat there in the rain and the mud and the shit. The town tried to comfort him as best they could but he was, shall we say, elsewhere. He wouldn’t speak, refused any food and refused any warm blankets to protect him from the cold of night.

It was the morning of Sarah’s funeral that we saw he was gone. We had hoped that seeing the village give her life a celebration and a send-off that such a warm person deserved would help him but as the flames took her body there was no sign of him. It was as though he never existed, he had never met Sarah and their union had not brought so much joy to our little village.

There was not much joy in the village for some time after. Then the day of the second tribute Michael and his men did not show up. Confusion ran through the village. Surely they couldn’t have forgotten?

It was decided to send a small scout party to investigate. They thought they were smart and we didn’t know where their hideout was. But we knew. We just didn’t want to go anywhere near them if truth be told. They were in an old abandoned building on the very edge of the ancient city. Something called a hotel I believe. I’ve seen it as my father took me there a few years ago to teach me the story I’m telling you now. I didn’t like it. It had the smell of death and decay. Nature has been steadily reclaiming the land but in parts it is still without any hint of green or brown and is just grey. A massive road, that’s what my father had said it was called, snaked its way into the distance. He told me that they had mechanical devices that could transport them at great speeds but they needed to cut through vast swathes of land to have enough room for them to work. He’d even heard that, even though they were capable of high speeds, there were so many of them that sometimes they would all have to queue up and ended up going nowhere.

Anyway, I must carry on. The scout group quietly made their way to the camp and what they saw horrified them. Michael and all his men had been killed. It was like a wind had ripped through the camp and destroyed everything in its path. They found Michael in the middle of a clearing tied to wooden post with his throat cut. Around his neck was a thin chain attached to a small piece of wood. In blood were the words ‘NO MORE’.

The village was stunned when they returned. Some wanted to celebrate their good fortune that Michael was gone but some of the others weren’t so sure. So more of them went to see. And more saw that Michael was dead and not coming back.

The next morning the cart was in the middle of the village square with a good deal of our food returned to us. On top of the food was a sign that had been etched into a piece of wood. It read “We will be ruled no more.”

Then one of the villages, an elderly man who said that Steven had been his friend, said he found a letter that had been pushed under his door while he was asleep. After a few moments he read it out to us.

“Let this be the day that we cast off the shackles of those who would rule by force and take what is not theirs. Let this be the day that we finally say no to the greed of one man being worth more than the life of another. For we need to believe in each other and help each other through the good times and the bad with each person bringing their own qualities to the village. But there are those who do not believe this to be so. If they leave us in peace then we must let them be. It should only be in times of strife when they seek to impose their will on us that we must respond with an equal show of force so they too will learn the lesson that Michael learned; That we will be ruled no more.”

We can only assume that it was written by Steven and that Michael’s actions towards Sarah had pushed him too far. Or maybe he decided that no other man would have to go through what he endured. Steven never returned to the village so we never got to ask him but the people of the village decided to follow Steven’s words. They took the weapons that Michael and his men once used against them and learnt how to use them. They made sure that each person was able to defend themselves should the need arise. But there was a vow taken at the same time. Never would we use these weapons to attack or subjugate those less fortunate than us. But we would not bow down again.

We began to hear stories from other settlements about a stranger who would come to them in their time of need and set them free as we were set free. He would never give his name and he never stayed in the one place for very long. I often wonder if it was Steven going from place to place. Maybe it was just a story.

But let me tell you this my friend. We welcome you to our village this night but we know you are not the humble stranger that you are currently playing. We know where you come from and with whom you have allied yourself. So, take this message back to your master. Tell him this is the village of Steven and we bow to no-one.

No more.

Sunday, 26 February 2017

The great CV conundrum

Well hello there my reader chums,

So it looks like I'm going to be on the move again. Mainly because, in a few short months, I'll be looking for work. Because the government and society doesn't really like people sitting around not doing very much. And I don't like Jeremy Kyle.

Which leaves me with two choices..
1: Stay in Scotland and try to get a new job up here.

or

2: Look for a job back down in deepest darkest Cheshire.

Now, unfortunately for Scotland, there are more job opportunities for my line of work in the North West of England so that's where I'll be concentrating my search.

Either way, it's a bit of a bugger. Well, quite a lot of a bugger. In fact, it's a major bugger.

Mainly because I've had to put together a cv. Which is about as much fun as having toothache and getting kicked in the knackers at the same time.

I mean, you only have to look on this t'interweb thingy and see there are hundreds of sites. No not that type of sites you dirty sods. The ones telling you what to put on the cv so that it will get you noticed by a potential future employer. And what not to put on it. Apparently I'm not supposed to put that I was the last man to go into space in a home made rocket, made first contact with an alien race, married their princess and stopped an interplanetary conflict by getting another alien ambassador completely bladdered. Just because that might not have ACTUALLY happened. I mean, really? They can't prove it didn't happen and if they go looking for any evidence then I could just say that the government have covered it up and the details are all locked in a vault for the next two hundred years or something..

'Surreal comic flights of fantasy are a no no' seems to be the message.

So I have to make myself sound windswept and interesting without lying about it. See, told you it was a tough one. Wonder if I could show them this blog...




Friday, 8 January 2016

A quick story - 8th January 2016

Yes, I'm back my lovely little friends. With a bit of an experiment. Each week there will be a bit of monkey writing after getting a random word form a word generator experiment.

This is the plan.
1: Get the word
2: Write the first thing that comes into my head
3: Type it up and put it on here very quickly.

Now it doesn't have to be right good. In fact it probably won't be. It won't be very long either. There may be inconsistencies from one sentence to another. And it might not make a lot of sense. But to hell with it. 

So here we go:
The word for this week was : SPEAKER

And here is the story:

Three words. That's all. Three words. A voice through the speaker, Every speaker all over the world. Saying the same thing over and over and over. Everyone heard it. But everyone heard it in their own language. Wherever they were. Which ever country they were in, at home or on foreign soil, they heard it in their own mother tongue.
There was panic. After all it isn't everyday that an alien fleet enters your planet's atmosphere and parks a fleet of ships over the capital cities of the world. Then all the signals went dead. Simultaneously, all over the globe, communications were lost for five minutes. Only to return as if nothing had happened.
Then the voice over every speaker. A cold, metallic computer voice.

"Prepare to die"



So what do you think?




Friday, 28 November 2014

Short, fat hairy legs... (my attempt at a review)

Hello my little reader friends,

Bit of a change for this one. As you know I've been to the theatre a few times this year and someone recently said that I should write a review. So I thought I'd give it a shot.

And here it is.

'Eric And Little Ern'
Kings Theatre, Glasgow
24.11.14

Starring:
Jonty Stephens as Eric Morecambe
Ian Ashpitel as Ernie Wise

Not to put too fine a point on it, this is the closest you're going to get to seeing arguably Britain's greatest and best loved comedy duo Morecambe And Wise short of inventing a time machine. But it will be well worth a visit to anyone 

A hospital bed would seem to be an odd place to start a play about Eric and Ernie but start there it does. And it's a poignant reminder that the two people this play is centred on are no longer with us. And in our increasingly cynical times, that they are missed. Possibly more than they ever were. It begins at Nuffield Hospital near Slough where a very ill Ernie Wise gets a visit from a rather unusual doctor...

Of course the doctor is none other than Eric Morecambe and then we realise that he has come back to help his old friend so they can perform one last hurrah. And it's this realisation that gives the play a note of sadness amongst all the laughter.

To say any more about the plot would be to give too much away and spoil the play for anyone wishing to go see it at a later date but something must be said about the performances of the two actors. While Ashpitel is excellent as Ernie Wise, it is Jonty Stephens's Eric that really makes the show. Even when he isn't saying anything, merely wandering around the stage looking bored, he is Eric Morecambe. Always ready to be the clown and, as pointed out by Wise, always in comedy mode, always 'on'. A point, the two lament, may have had something to do with Eric's untimely death. 
 
The jokes are pretty good. Some of the old favourites are played out brilliantly much to the eager anticipation of the audience. At one point a siren is heard from outside the stage 'window' and the audience almost starts to laugh before Stephens can utter the line 'He won't sell many ice-creams going that fast'.  It can hardly be a surprise to anyone reading this though, that the biggest round of applause, apart at the very end of the performance, was when Stephens utters the immortal words "I'm playing all the right notes..."

The end, as it was in the tv show and, I assume, their stage act ,was, of course, 'Bring Me Sunshine'. And the whole audience was singing along. The same audience that came out of that theatre with big grins on their faces. The audience that have just watched a fitting tribute to two comedy legends.

If you were being harsh then this show is nothing more than a tribute to an act long since gone. But that would be somewhat churlish. For this is more than that. A tribute maybe. But also a reminder of a time long gone. The jokes maybe simpler but they have retained the ability to make an audience laugh. And, in the end, isn't that all that matters.

A time long gone. You can't be there. But this show gives a glimpse of what it must have been like to have been in the company of  comedy greats.

As for this review...

Well..

What do you think of it so far?

(Audience)
"Rubbish"

Saturday, 8 November 2014

Where does the time go? (resurrection of the blog)

Well hello my little reader friends,

It's been a while hasn't it? What do you mean I haven't been missed? How very dare you! Right everyone who said that has to now go and sit on the naughty step and think about what you said..

Where's everyone gone?

Oh alright, you can come back. Didn't realise the naughty step could fit that many people on it.

So what's everyone been up to? And this time class, keep the answers clean. This is a family show you know.

And what's been happening with me I hear you ask. Well, alright you haven't asked, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Briefly.  And I've locked the doors

It's been the usual up here at Paisley towers. Still waiting for Karen Gillan to throw herself at me declaring her undying love and devotion (So if you're reading this Karen, you know what to do)

(It could happen. Stop sniggering at the back).

Actually still waiting for any nice young lady to do that. 

Oh and the Chester Grosvenor park open air theatre was back with another set of productions so, even though I'm up in Scotland, I went to another performance. This time it was MacBeth. And this time my lovely little readers I went with friends. And it was good fun.

(Yes, I have friends. Right who is sniggering again? Security! Remove that person! What do you mean "Which one?" Who are you anyway? I called for security, not some snot nosed little squirty sixteen year old. Oh... you are the security...Well...er..carry on)

Actually I've been going to the theatre I lot more regularly since I moved up to Paisley and it has been mentioned that I should write some reviews of the plays and musicals. Maybe, maybe...

And then we had the Commonwealth Games. A rather brilliant exhibition of sporting competition held in the rather brilliant city of Glasgow. I had tickets for a couple of the events and although there were some very early starts (I mean who even knew there was a six-thirty on a Sunday morning?) it was an excellent experience.

And of course we have just finished the latest series of Doctor Who. The first of hopefully quite a few with Peter Capaldi taking over the Tardis. He's just keeping it warm for me you know. I mean, who doesn't think I should be the next Doctor? I'd be well cool at the job. Anyway more on this later..

Ta ta for now