Name change

When I started this blog I didn't think for one second I would have to meet people who read it. The first time I did I discovered very quickly why "Rubbish@poker" was such a shite title.
"Hi, I'm rubbish, who are you?"
This weekend I'm on the RTR team bash in Newcastle and will be meeting people for the first time. With that in mind you will notice my Blog has changed title.
I had a few names in mind including:
Hi, I shagged Cheryl Cole up the arse
Hi, I'm Jeremy Clarkson's love child
Hi, I've got a 14 inch dick
Hi, I'm one for one on RTR do's
I've gone with "pleased to meet you" just to piss people off.
Random bloke - "Who are you mate?"
Me - "I'm pleased to meet you, now fuck off".
Later.

Newcastle nights out that I sort of remember.

Next weekend I'm off to Blackpool and Newcastle on a Poker jolly with the RTR crew. I've only ever been to Blackpool once and I think I may have blogged about it before. I've been to Newcastle three times but can only remember two of them. How bizzare is that?
The first time in Newcastle was probably the best. Seven of us had decided to drive to Edinburgh for the Rugby. We set off on the Thursday but the snow was so bad we had to take refuge in Newcastle for the night. We stopped off in a place called Whitley Bay and found a cheap B & B for the night.
The guy who ran it was a good laugh and we had a couple of beers with him before heading off to a pub. The snow was coming down in a blizzard and we were just about to leave when he stopped us.
"Don't bother wearing coats boys, you'll get in the first pub, end up taking them off and someone will nick them".
We took his advice allthough walking to the pub in a foot of snow, shivering like fuck, I seriously doubted whether I would be taking a coat off.
I can't remember the name of the pub but as we walked in the heat hit us like a punch in the face and the first thing we saw was the barmaid dancing on the bar in a bikini. What a town.
The next morning we got up, seriously hung over. Dave and I had both decided that Edinburgh could go fuck itself and we were staying for the weekend. Big G agreed and that was that. We asked the guy if we could stay for a couple more days and he laughed.
"I've already reserved the rooms for you boys because I knew you wouldn't be going anywhere after a night out here".
On the Friday night we met a gang of Scots boys who were on a stag weekend and ended up having a laugh with them. After arranging to meet them to watch the match on the Saturday we ended up in some bar where Big G was chatting to this girl. In fairness G does allright with the Ladies but this girl was not having any of it and finally told him to fuck off as she was a Lesbian.
The next day we met the Scots in this pub and they dragged us off to another one because there were strippers there. The first two girls came on and did a lesbian show and you've guessed it, there was the girl who Big G had been chatting up. At least he knew that she wasn't lying and was a Lesbian.
Later that evening we fell foul of the local crime lord/drug dealer. G, who had the piss taken out of him all day, was dancing with this girl when some guy walks over and whispers something to her. Off she trots and G sits down with us whingeing like a good one. This girl starts arguing with some guy so G wanders over to see if sh's okay. This guy tells G to fuck off and a couple of big fuckers stand either side of G in a menacing manner. We are all clocking this and Dave nudges me and says "get ready".
One of the guys puts his hand on G's shoulder and he immediately elbows him in the face breaking his nose. The other guy gets a straight hand in the throat and he goes down gasping for breath. The crime lord stands up and pulls a gun on G and the whole place just stops. Unfortunately for this guy, he manages to pull a gun on the one person who had just spent a year in Rio and Sao Paulo, having guns pulled on him on a daily basis. G leans forward so that the gun is inches away from his forehead and questions whethe the guy has the bollocks to do it. Three hundred people are now watching this spectacle and we all stand next to G in a show of solidarity. This stand off only lasted a few seconds but it seemed like fucking hours. Eventually this guy laughs, puts the gun away and buys us all a beer. G pulls the girl and everyone lives to fight another day.
The second time I went to Newcastle is the one that I can't remember. I know it was a stag weekend and I know Dave and G were there. I also know that I had to travel up on my own because I had to work on the Friday on a concert. The only other thing I can recall is going to the Tuxedo Princess.
For those that don't know the Tuxedo Princess is a ship moored on the Tyne that has been turned into a giant Club. Three floors all playing dfferent music and these revolving dance floors that absolutely creased me, not once but three times. And always when I was holding about three pints. Other than that I can't remember fuck all about that weekend.
The last time I went was on another stag weekend. We went to Newcastle Rugby Club on the Saturday to watch Newcastle v Bath and and when we got to the ground there was a massive banner which read "MY DOG IS BETTER THAN MIKE CATT". Class.
Later.

Monday's

A typical Monday.
Get up and hit the gym. Weights and then half hour on the running machine before a nice hot shower. My neighbour popped round earlier with a bottle of home brew, super strong, which I'll have this afternoon whilst watching a couple of DVD's. I've got a few spliffs already rolled for the Xbox tourney with the lads later on. After that I'll troll the gambling sites for an hour or so before watching some porn.


I fucking love prison!

Had that texted to me today and it would be funny if it wasn't so fucking true.
In the papers this morning is a story regarding Jon Venables. For anyone reading in the US of A who might not be aware, this guy perpetrated one of the worst crimes in living memory.
Along with his accomplice, Robert Thompson, they kidnapped and murdered a three year old boy. They were just ten years old at the time.
Now twenty seven, Jon Venables is back behind bars for downloading kiddie porn allthough I'm not sure you can call it prison. His cell is equipped with a flat screen HD TV, Nintendo game cube, gym equipment, music system, guitar, board games and a power shower.
What a fucking joke.
I could go on but I think I'll probably blow a gasket just thinking about the absurdity of it all.

Who decides these things?

Watched a remake of V the other night which was okay. I suppose if you are going to remake an entire series then, in this day and age, a Sci Fi series would be the one you'd go for. But surely there are better programmes that have been made which could be revamped?
I never really watched Blakes Seven but I remember reading reviews where they slated the programme because the sets were so wooden along with the acting. And what about Buck Rogers in the 25th Century? Or Logans run or the Twilight Zone? My favourite though for a remake would be the Man from UNCLE.
And what about films? I would love to see an updated version of Jack the Giant Killer. Don't know if you have ever seen it but it always used to be shown on New Years Day for some reason. I think the Sinbad movies would also look good if they were made now.
When I was a kid I used to read the 2000AD comic (sad I know). There was one series about how humans had killed all animals so used time travel to go back to prehistoric age to kill Dinosaurs and transport them back to present time for food. Now, that would be a good TV programme. Who decides these things?

Arsenal lost to Spuds yesterday, kinda thought they would. The worst thing about this though is Would Be and Joppa have shut down their blogs. Real shame this as I'm guessing there was a lot of banter amongst those two on MSN yesterday and today.
I've noticed quite a few people have shut their blogs down recently. Tennyson has disappeared. So has Madame Nikki. Shame as I really liked their blogs. There was also one called happily after ever by a South African girl which ended abruptly. I always fear the worse when something like that happens especially when they live somewhere as violent as South Africa. Hope she's okay.

Anyhow, got any good ideas for remake TV programmes or films?

I'm still alive honest.

Been missing in action for awhile now so just a quick post to promise to be on here a lot more in the coming weeks.
Work has been rediculously busy and I've just been so knackered I haven't bothered coming on here at all.
Poker has been non existant and I haven't played in two or three months. Of course this level of activty has been great practice for the RTR meet up in Newcastle next month.
Gambling was going great until two weeks ago when I lost £700 in three days. I then managed to claw most of ths back until I layed Tiger for a top five finish in the Masters and then suffered watching him luck out over four days to finish fourth and lose me another £500. I did have the winner of the National though for a few quid.
Apart from Newcastle I've got a stag weekend in May to somewhere as yet not decided or London if Cardiff City making the play off final.
I've also got two weddings and a Christening on the horizon. Basically, nice and quiet then for the next month.
It was my Mums birthday last week and whilst out shopping with my nipper she talked me into buying the Outnumbered series 1 DVD for her. Absolutely awesome if you've never watched it. Also been gettng super competitive on Mario Kart with her and we spent nine hours one Saturday racng each other much to my Wifes disgust.
Anyhow, got to get up in five hours so need to get some sleep. Hope everyone is okay and will be trawling your blogs over the next few days. Catch you all later.

Dublin 2010

Another weekend in Dublin, another hangover from hell. Actually that's not true as I couldn't afford to get that drunk. Since Ireland have joined the Euro the prices have gone through the roof. Almost £8 a pint in most places which came as a shock.
Croke Park was pretty cool though even if Wales threw away another game. Lee Byrne was lucky not to get red carded and we conceded another two trys whilst down to 14 men.
Not sure when I'll go back to Dublin again. I used to go maybe three or four times a year but with the prices now I don't think I'll be going anytime soon.
I can remember when I first went and there were 40,000 Welsh fans there. That's pretty impressive when you take into account that there's only 3,000,000 people in Wales. Over 1% of the population going on the piss for a weekend to watch a Rugby match. Just to put that in perspective that would be the equivalent of England taking 750,000 people to Paris to watch a Footie match or America taking 4,500,000 people to Canada to watch the Ice Hockey. I'm guessing there wasn't even 10,000 Welsh out in Ireland this year.
Not much else been happening recently. Work is stupidly busy. Dave's missus had a baby girl last week so we've had a few beers to wet her head. Haven't done much else. Still sleeping like an hamster and still off the fags. Four weeks and counting.
Will catch up with everyone this week.
Later.

It takes all sorts.

Dave rang me the other night for a cheeky pint after work so we met up in a bar we don’t normally frequent. We’re halfway through our first pint when a guy who we both vaguely know walks in. He gets a beer and walks over to where we are standing to say hello.
Although we both don’t know the guy really well we both know his girlfriend. She had been mates with one of Dave’s exes and was a real cutey.
Anyhow, we’re chatting away about nothing in particular and Dave asks how Jen is. This guy says that they’ve split up and he hasn’t seen her for a while. We offer our apologies and carry on making small talk about nothing in particular. I can’t remember how the conversation veered onto the truly bizarre but this guy managed to drop “yeah, Jen used to shit on my chest, the best bit was when she smeared it in” into it.
Dave and I stood there open mouthed whilst this guy then tells us that his current girlfriend refused to do it point blank and won’t even discuss it. With that, he finishes his pint and announces he’s off to pick up a Chinese and he’ll see us around.
We probably stood there in silence for about five minutes before Dave asked whether he had heard him correctly. I concurred and we drank our pints in an eerie silence before heading home.
A little later I started to think about this revelation and married Women in general. I’ve decided that Women fall into three categories. And I’ve got some high profile evidence to back my theories up.
The 90% Woman – these are your normal Married Women who you have to coax for weeks to get a Birthday blowjob. I’m looking at Tiger’s Wife and thinking no chance of a blowjob for him until Hell freezes over. His thirteen minute grovelling apology to his sponsors was probably the most cringe worthy piece of TV this year although it only held this record for a few hours until Eastenders live 25th anniversary show later that evening.
The 9.99% Woman – even after a few years of marriage these Women can surprise you by blowing you at a drop of a hat. Sometimes I look at Cheryl Cole and I can imagine her sidling up to you on the couch as you watch the Footie on a Thursday night. Twenty minutes later you’re sat there with a stupid grin on your face and a further half hour later you realise you’re watching the vicar of Dibley and the cheeky minx has flipped the channels over when you were concentrating on your money shot. The fact that Cashley deemed it necessary to cheat on Cheryl suggests the slimy, money grabbing piece of scum might be looking for that rarest of Women, the 0.01%er. Well, as luck would have it Cashley, you don’t have to look too far.
The 0.01% Woman – here’s a Woman who will shit on your chest and smear it in as well if you ask her nicely. When John Terry cheated on his Wife Toni for the umpteenth time she did what any self respecting Woman would do, packed her bags and headed to Dubai. But this wasn’t just some bimbo JT had bedded, it was an ex team mates girlfriend and friend of his Wife. And he hadn’t just bedded her but got her pregnant, paid for the abortion and given her an £80k sweetener as well. And this was all played out in the media just to add to the embarrassment of the long suffering Toni. But wait, three days after jetting to Dubai she tells the Worlds press that she has forgiven JT. She loves him more than ever and they are going to make another go of it. If Cashley wants’ someone to shit on his chest, I think we have a prime candidate.