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Colin W*nker is an anagram of Neil Warnock.
Obvs not the asterix, but that one doesn't work with the swear filter.
And, sort of, apologies for swear filter avoidance...
FWIW - I know that some sharks (Nurse Sharks certainly) can use a muscular contraction of the pharynx to move water over their gills to breathe. But they still need the support of a shallow sea bed to do it - otherwise, they would sink to a depth where the pressure would override their gills' ability to exchange gases. No shark or ray can maintain a constant depth without forward motion.
Eeek I also din’t know it was Feyd-Rautha singing in dire straits MFN but tbh I also didn’t realise that they were an English band 🙂 so 2 for the price of one.
(And if you doubt it you'll be certain when you meet my mother) 🙂
Surely that’s just the logical extension of Soul food?
Their Escapade model is based on the love of Schnitzel. Who doesn't love Schnitzel?
I was in Valencia in the L'Oceanogràfic Walking thru the underwater tunnel and was lucky enough to look up just as a big shark was going over, pretty thing but I don’t think I’d want to meet at the beach.
Well worth a visit if your down that way.
Caustic soda is used to turn the casings of black pudding black.
The recommendations to drink 5 pints of fluid and walk 10 000 steps per day are completely arbitrary.
Their Escapade model is based on the love of Schnitzel. Who doesn’t love Schnitzel?
Someone named a type of lettice after their Rocket.
Stan Laurel was Charlie Chaplin's understudy.
And he kept his name, address and number in the 'phone book, took calls from fans and often invited them in for a chat.
He also married the same woman twice.
Jason Everman of Nirvana & Soundgarden fame joined the US Army, initially the 75th Ranger Regiment, then went on to become a Green Beret, serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Who doesn’t love Schnitzel?
I do, in fact I'm making it for tea tomorrow. With chips and garden peas. Now I don't think anyone knew that!
More Mark Knopfler facts: his band once formed a supergroup with Chris Rea
Correct - they met up in curry house in Blyth to discuss but both got a nasty case of food poisoning after the meal.
There is no proper name for the back of the knee.
The Popliteal Fossa is a diamond-shaped space behind the knee joint.
first thing that comes up when you Google “what is the back of the knee called”
There is no proper name for the back of the knee.
You mean the popliteal fossa?
More Mark Knopfler facts: his band once formed a supergroup with Chris Rea
I heard they were shut. Well it sounded like that
but tbh I also didn’t realise that they were an English band
From the north east/Newcastle. Tunnel of Love is a song about/referencing a theme park in Whitley Bay (Spanish City).
Toni Basil - who I had a slight crush on when I was about 12 - who sang "Hey Mickey" in 1980(ish) was already on TV in a 1964 show and dance with one of the guys from the Monkeys in another 1960's movie.
You mean the popliteal fossa?
Looks like Reg Smeeton was wrong then!
I didn’t know that Sting sings backing vocals on Money for Nothing
Realised it pretty much the first time I heard ‘Money For Nothing’, Sting’s voice is so distinctive.
Referring back to Mr Carrott, how many are actually aware that the oft-quoted jibe at Ringo Starr by Lennon; “He’s not a great drummer, he’s not even the best drummer in the Beatles”, is not at all true, it was a ‘joke’ by Jasper Carrott, yet people still keep saying it’s true.
Yep, it's bollocks CZ. Nice one!
Other Beatles facts:
The reason they sound like they do is because non of them could afford Fenders.
PM played a Hofner because it was cheap and could be played upside down (left handed) without looking weird.
George and John played Epiphones initailly because they were available and reasonably priced.
Yes, they (all) played a Fender Bass 6, couple of Strats, and Paul played a Rickenbacker bass on a few tracks, but mostly it's cheap, unfashionable gear.
He was a brilliant chemist, but unfortunately had an uncanny knack of inventing things that had unforeseen long-term consequences.
And as a result, possibly invented the Law Of Unintended Consequences.
Puts me in mind of that old joke..
I wish i had listened to what my old dad used to tell me.
Why, what did he used to say?
I don't know. I wasn't listening!
The recommendations to drink 5 pints of fluid and walk 10 000 steps per day are completely arbitrary.
Certainly the 10,000 steps thing was created by some Japanese blokes to sell an exercise gizmo, and it was a nice number that looked good. I’m sure I read somewhere that the fluid thing was incorrect, maybe it was to encourage people to buy expensive bottled water - I certainly wouldn’t be surprised.
same with 5 portions of fruit and veg - the nutritionists would suggest 7 but it was felt that people would go '7? **** that!' and not bother whereas 5 was achievable and still better than none.
Richard Marx and Skid Row were going to form a super group
Today I learned that the computer head up display in the film Escape From New York was a physical model covered in reflective tape on the edges and filmed under green lights.
And as a result, possibly invented the Law Of Unintended Consequences.
The dangers of lead were well know at the time, so many people warned that putting it in petrol was not a good idea. Workers at the factory making the additive were being treated for lead poisoning before it was released commercially. As often happens, it was a commercial decision that won over health concerns.
Agree that the issues with CFC's were unforseen.
To be honest I’m more impressed that he managed to train an elephant to sit in a chair.
I'm impressed that he found a chair strong enough.
Just to add to the 10,000 steps, 5 portions of fruit etc
The units of alcohol limits where set by a bunch of men sat around discussing how much was reasonable. They decided that as they only drank 2-3 glasses of wine then that was a 'reasonable' amount but more than that must be excessive. Obviously their little wives could only drink about 2/3rds of that because they were women.
If the Drs involved had been heavier drinkers then we could have had a 'safe' limit of 15-20 units a day!
who sang “Hey Mickey” in 1980(ish)
Which was a cover version of the same song performed by a group called Racey under it's original title "Kitty" in 1979
Gandhi lived in Ventnor on the Isle of White (not permanently obvs)
and it was a nice number that looked good.
I think the Japanese character for 10,000 sort of looks like a man walking , or at least a pair of legs
The same guy that pioneered curing the problem of knocking petrol engines by using tetraethyl lead also pioneered the use of CFCs as refridgerants – Thomas Midgeley.
He was a brilliant chemist, but unfortunately had an uncanny knack of inventing things that had unforeseen long-term consequences.
he was also killed by one of his own inventions. he contracted polio in later life and invented a complicated series of pullies and ropes to help get him out of bed. he was found strung up and strangled by it one morning - universal karma?
on a related 'i did not know that fact' - no ones really knows why we sleep and scientist have never reached a definitive explanation . it makes no sense from an evolutionary / survival perspective being unconscious for a 3rd of the day, but there must be some advantage. most scientist agree that there must be some regenerative or cleansing process involved, but know one really knows. something we spend approx a 1/3 of our lives doing and we don't know why!
Lawrence of Arabia died in a motorbike accident in Dorset after swerving to avoid two people on bikes.
Other Beatles facts:
Richard Starky is left handed but plays the drums right handed, it's partly the reason why his style is so hard to copy.
The "He's not even the best drummer in the band" quote often attributed to Lennon, as answer to the question "Is Ringo the best drummer in the world", was in fact made up bollocks.
Also on scientists don't really know
Anaesthetics. Their effects are pretty well understood, and they can be controlled very well, the primary mechanism is still unknown.
The units of alcohol limits where set by a bunch of men sat around discussing how much was reasonable. They decided that as they only drank 2-3 glasses of wine then that was a ‘reasonable’ amount but more than that must be excessive. Obviously their little wives could only drink about 2/3rds of that because they were women.
Takes me back to university. The College JCR monthly meeting would frequently have a rep from the main Uni SU welfare team come to speak to us, often it was useful - talking about AIDS and sexual health, etc. But one poor sop got the job of coming to advise a bunch of 18-21 year olds in the late 80's that we really should be restricting our intake to 21 units for men and 14 for women, with a unit being half a pint of average beer. That was an evening's work to some of us back then...... we duly listened to their spiel about cirrhosis and the like and 'took it on advice'
Then we moved to AOB. From the floor a motion was proposed that as we are all now modern Europeans, half a pint of weak beer was a daft measure. We should move forthwith to a litre of 5% beer to be in step with the mainland. A new motion was passed on almost universal approval that men students should endeavour to have 21 litres of 5% beer or equivalent a week, and depending on the strength of their views on equality women somewhere between 14 and 21.
The SU welfare rep packed up their papers and left in a huff.
The tradition of spending 2 months wages on an engagement ring was actually a marketing campaign by De Beers to sell more diamonds in the 1970's
In very similar vein...
Our year in college was regarded as fairly hard-drinking, but the year below us went beserk.
The college principal decided that it was necessary to bring in a counsellor to talk to people on a voluntary basis and that this would take place (Lord have mercy) on a Wednesday evening, in the college bar, from opening time onwards.
A couple of lads in that year decided "we're not having this".
So they arranged to be let in five minutes early. When the counsellor walked in he was greeted cheerily by two first year undergrads - both supping on pints of Port. Needless to say a fiasco soon ensued and the counsellor was never seen again.
Late 90's, BTW.
The hand claps on Donovan’s Melli Yellow (Electric Banana) were made by Paul McCartney’s hands.
PM played a Hofner because it was cheap and could be played upside down (left handed) without looking weird.
...
Richard Starky is left handed but plays the drums right handed, it’s partly the reason why his style is so hard to copy.
I believe, though may be wrong, that Macca is right-handed for everything else but guitars lefty.
Today I learned that the computer head up display in the film Escape From New York was a physical model covered in reflective tape on the edges and filmed under green lights.
Please tell me you have a link to a write-up for that. EfNY is one of my all-time favourite films.
Please tell me you have a link to a write-up for that. EfNY is one of my all-time favourite films.
Lawrence of Arabia died in a motorbike accident in Dorset after swerving to avoid two people on bikes.
Whilst riding a Brough Superior motorcycle no less, of which he'd owned several over the years and was a friend of George Brough.
When retracted, a woodpecker's tongue wraps around its skull to act as a shock absorber for when it's pecking wood. If I could do that it would save me a fortune on expensive MIPS helmets.
Whilst riding a Brough Superior motorcycle no less
Called 'Boanerges'. Here is his most famous depiction of riding it. This will really resonate with any motorcyclist:
The Road
The extravagance in which my surplus emotion expressed itself lay on the road. So long as roads were tarred blue and straight; not hedged; and empty and dry, so long I was rich.
Nightly I’d run up from the hangar, upon the last stroke of work, spurring my tired feet to be nimble. The very movement refreshed them, after the day-long restraint of service. In five minutes my bed would be down, ready for the night: in four more I was in breeches and puttees, pulling on my gauntlets as I walked over to my bike, which lived in a garage-hut, opposite. Its tyres never wanted air, its engine had a habit of starting at second kick: a good habit, for only by frantic plunges upon the starting pedal could my puny weight force the engine over the seven atmospheres of its compression.
Boanerges’ first glad roar at being alive again nightly jarred the huts of Cadet College into life. ‘There he goes, the noisy bugger,’ someone would say enviously in every flight. It is part of an airman’s profession to be knowing with engines: and a thoroughbred engine is our undying satisfaction. The camp wore the virtue of my Brough like a flower in its cap. Tonight Tug and Dusty came to the step of our hut to see me off. ‘Running down to Smoke, perhaps?’ jeered Dusty; hitting at my regular game of London and back for tea on fine Wednesday afternoons.
Boa is a top-gear machine, as sweet in that as most single-cylinders in middle. I chug lordlily past the guard-room and through the speed limit at no more than sixteen. Round the bend, past the farm, and the way straightens. Now for it. The engine’s final development is fifty-two horse-power. A miracle that all this docile strength waits behind one tiny lever for the pleasure of my hand.
Another bend: and I have the honour of one of England’ straightest and fastest roads. The burble of my exhaust unwound like a long cord behind me. Soon my speed snapped it, and I heard only the cry of the wind which my battering head split and fended aside. The cry rose with my speed to a shriek: while the air’s coldness streamed like two jets of iced water into my dissolving eyes. I screwed them to slits, and focused my sight two hundred yards ahead of me on the empty mosaic of the tar’s gravelled undulations.
Like arrows the tiny flies pricked my cheeks: and sometimes a heavier body, some house-fly or beetle, would crash into face or lips like a spent bullet. A glance at the speedometer: seventy-eight. Boanerges is warming up. I pull the throttle right open, on the top of the slope, and we swoop flying across the dip, and up-down up-down the switchback beyond: the weighty machine launching itself like a projectile with a whirr of wheels into the air at the take-off of each rise, to land lurchingly with such a snatch of the driving chain as jerks my spine like a rictus.
Once we so fled across the evening light, with the yellow sun on my left, when a huge shadow roared just overhead. A Bristol Fighter, from Whitewash Villas, our neighbour aerodrome, was banking sharply round. I checked speed an instant to wave: and the slip-stream of my impetus snapped my arm and elbow astern, like a raised flail. The pilot pointed down the road towards Lincoln. I sat hard in the saddle, folded back my ears and went away after him, like a dog after a hare. Quickly we drew abreast, as the impulse of his dive to my level exhausted itself.
The next mile of road was rough. I braced my feet into the rests, thrust with my arms, and clenched my knees on the tank till its rubber grips goggled under my thighs. Over the first pot-hole Boanerges screamed in surprise, its mud-guard bottoming with a yawp upon the tyre. Through the plunges of the next ten seconds I clung on, wedging my gloved hand in the throttle lever so that no bump should close it and spoil our speed. Then the bicycle wrenched sideways into three long ruts: it swayed dizzily, wagging its tail for thirty awful yards. Out came the clutch, the engine raced freely: Boa checked and straightened his head with a shake, as a Brough should.
The bad ground was passed and on the new road our flight became birdlike. My head was blown out with air so that my ears had failed and we seemed to whirl soundlessly between the sun-gilt stubble fields. I dared, on a rise, to slow imperceptibly and glance sideways into the sky. There the Bif was, two hundred yards and more back. Play with the fellow? Why not? I slowed to ninety: signalled with my hand for him to overtake. Slowed ten more: sat up. Over he rattled. His passenger, a helmeted and goggled grin, hung out of the cock-pit to pass me the ‘Up yer’ Raf randy greeting.
They were hoping I was a flash in the pan, giving them best. Open went my throttle again. Boa crept level, fifty feet below: held them: sailed ahead into the clean and lonely country. An approaching car pulled nearly into its ditch at the sight of our race. The Bif was zooming among the trees and telegraph poles, with my scurrying spot only eighty yards ahead. I gained though, gained steadily: was perhaps five miles an hour the faster. Down went my left hand to give the engine two extra dollops of oil, for fear that something was running hot: but an overhead Jap twin, super-tuned like this one, would carry on to the moon and back, unfaltering.
We drew near the settlement. A long mile before the first houses I closed down and coasted to the cross-roads by the hospital. Bif caught up, banked, climbed and turned for home, waving to me as long as he was in sight. Fourteen miles from camp, we are, here: and fifteen minutes since I left Tug and Dusty at the hut door.
I let in the clutch again, and eased Boanerges down the hill along the tram-lines through the dirty streets and up-hill to the aloof cathedral, where it stood in frigid perfection above the cowering close. No message of mercy in Lincoln. Our God is a jealous God: and man’s very best offering will fall disdainfully short of worthiness, in the sight of Saint Hugh and his angels.
Remigius, earthy old Remigius, looks with more charity on and Boanerges. I stabled the steel magnificence of strength and speed at his west door and went in: to find the organist practising something slow and rhythmical, like a multiplication table in notes on the organ. The fretted, unsatisfying and unsatisfied lace-work of choir screen and spandrels drank in the main sound. Its surplus spilled thoughtfully into my ears.
By then my belly had forgotten its lunch, my eyes smarted and streamed. Out again, to sluice my head under the White Hart’s yard-pump. A cup of real chocolate and a muffin at the teashop: and Boa and I took the Newark road for the last hour of daylight. He ambles at forty-five and when roaring his utmost, surpasses the hundred. A skittish motor-bike with a touch of blood in it is better than all the riding animals on earth, because of its logical extension of our faculties, and the hint, the provocation, to excess conferred by its honeyed untiring smoothness. Because Boa loves me, he gives me five more miles of speed than a stranger would get from him.
At Nottingham I added sausages from my wholesaler to the bacon which I’d bought at Lincoln: bacon so nicely sliced that each rasher meant a penny. The solid pannier-bags behind the saddle took all this and at my next stop a (farm) took also a felt-hammocked box of fifteen eggs. Home by Sleaford, our squalid, purse-proud, local village. Its butcher had six penn’orth of dripping ready for me. For months have I been making my evening round a marketing, twice a week, riding a hundred miles for the joy of it and picking up the best food cheapest, over half the country side.
The Brough Superior was the only product ever licensed to be called ‘The Rolls Royce of’
Must’ve been good.
Called ‘Boanerges’
Not actually the one he crashed & died on, but a brilliant bit of prose nonetheless, motorcycling was definitely different then.
I did not know that most people on here haven't seen Dire Straits live aid gig on utube...Sting is clearly seen singing th them
Did you know , where my mate lives in New Forest ner Beaulieu....there is a pub there called the East End Arms and the bass player from Dire Straits owns it....and pops in regularly
T.E. Lawrence lived here:
It had a leather bath. (edit, I don’t think that’s strictly correct, but there’s something odd about the bathroom. Foil lined walls?) Certainly a big leather ‘day’ bed in the living room.
I didn't know until recently that Andy Summers played in Kevin Coynes band before joining The Police.
Please tell me you have a link to a write-up for that. EfNY is one of my all-time favourite films.
Fill your Snake Plissken boots here https://twitter.com/atrightmovies/status/1678337158745038848?s=46&t=lTcFSBU-twDXB4KL3Bm_eQ