A Medical Examination - 'Put Your Phone Away'

I had a medical exam for my new job as a trainee air traffic controller. I passed all the little exams and interviews they gave me. This is because I'm both intelligent and personable. Maybe. Probably not. Definately not. I had to travel to Southampton. The train took me across Englands green and pleasant hills.
I felt like singing Jerusalem, but I didn't. Instead I read Private Eye magazine. Haha Tony Blair will fill his boots, its funny because he will cash in on the lucrative after dinner speech circuit in America, thats the joke.
After reading my magazine, I spotted this on the floor. Someone had a free ticket to an award ceremony. Why can't I have one? Was it a spy award ceremony? If so then I'm greatly annoyed my years of service have been overlooked.
I passed Royal Leamington Spa, the beautiful buildings were eclipsed by the scrawling of 'BJ' on a wall.
The journey went on, time passed, I grew older, my bones were weary, at Southampton Airport, I saw Father Christmas. He must have been flying to Lapland after an extended break on the English South coast. I couldn't help but think he looked slightly disillusioned with life out of his work clothes.
Lunch time, cheese and bacon baguette with a bottle of oasis. A meal fit for a king, or at least a traveler. Apparently my baguette is French. Did you know the French for bacon is bacon. This is so English hooligans don't get mixed up when they order their English breakfasts.
I finished my food and waited for my train. An interesting fact about me - I often heed security notices.
I got on the train to the place where my medical was to be conducted, Swanwick. Here is the face of a spy. Remember it well, if you want to foil my plans.
This was my view out of the window, it was set against a soundtrack of German Eurodance purveyors Cascada. The journey was emotional.
I am a landlubber and rarely see the sea. This is a river.
After the bleak but beautiful scenery it was time to get off. I checked my bag. This bag is the most maligned item in my existence. Kim hates it and has offered to buy me a new one. I turn her down. I like it.
Swanwick station.
I got to the medical facility and was quickly told to put my phone away by a burly security guard, here is a glimpse.
There were complications. Amongst the others my left ear stopped working. This is the offending article.
This was the cuisine on offer in Swanwick. (Not the bike, I don't eat bikes)
I wasn't impressed with my ear. It let me down, as did the burger van.
I indulged my hunger by buying Kim some Monster much as a present. They are her favourite.
I got the train to Reading where I spotted this chameleMAN. Trying to blend in to his surroundings in escalator coloured trousers. Cant spy a spyer.
I met Kim and we went to the pub.
You know you are in the South when you see this.
What is this. Blackadder!?
I needed to get going back to Manchester, my homeland, in the morning. Not before a dose of Shipwrecked. They lead the life of Riley. If Riley was a woman in a bikini.
On the train back I treated myself to a can of Blackthorn. I deserved it. This is NOT my urine sample. It is refreshing cider.
Will our protagonist pass the Gatwick medical? Will he buy a new bag? Will his left ear resume normal service. All will be told soon.

Chelsea vs Blackburn - "I have got more peanut kit kats than life"

My girlfriend Kim came up to visit. She is a Chelsea fan. They were playing in the semi final of the FA cup against Blackburn at Old Trafford. We didn't have tickets, but tickets are for schmucks. Who do you think I am, some kind of ticket fairy. We got the peasantwagon.

You are used to me getting the 43. This time I got the 11. I enjoy variety in my bus rides. I had no time for the 266 or 267
Kim looked like a Russian spy in these big dark glasses, she was giving secret codes over the phone about 'project sputnik'
Not really. She was talking to her Mum. Spies dont blow dandelions, girls blow dandelions. She has a lot to learn if she wants to be a top class spy like me. She will probably end up with some run down private eye firm in Macclesfield. I don't want that for her.
When we got to the metrolink stop, we were told Ronaldo had been ordered to prove he is great. After all, Alexander did, and he was Greek.
We got to the ground and bought two tickets at face value from a tout. Success. He was a big man so I didn't blog it. Here is the East stand instead.
They tried to persuade me to play for Blackburn, but I had neither the will nor the ability. They opened the gate's but I had to politely refuse. I think they mistook me for someone who is moderate at football.
I was a little dejected about my decision not to play. I slipped through the net when they were scouting. They decided my stubble was too outrageous to make a career in the professional game.
I decided to comfort eat.
The coaches containing football players arrived.This man was the most bored man who ever existed in the world.
The Chelsea players must have thought everyone was there to watch them. They were there to see the most bored man who ever existed in the world instead. He looks dejected.
After we grew bored of the bored man we decided to go for a pint. One pub, the Trafford, was a delegated Chelsea pub, we went in. The man with the tattoo on the left of the picture asked why I wasn't wearing blue. The best i could come up with was 'I'm wearing green for celery' I am not ashamed to admit I nearly died with terrorfication.
There were a lot of Chelsea fans. I should have wore blue but it made me seem like a traitor to my club Bolton. Although I did want Chelsea to win, because I dislike Blackburn and United.
Everyone was joining in on the mob mentality and singing cockney knees up songs that I didn't understand. They seemed to be enjoying it. Jellied eel's all round.
Although this fan didnt quite understand. I hope thats not his real name, actually, I hope its not his nickname. I'm not sure what I hope. He was instantly rendered a cock by his shirt anyway.
The teams kicked off. This is Michael Ballack taking a free kick. He narrowly missed.
I really wanted to capture Fat Frank Lampard, He wrote a gospel as you will see in earlier blogs. He is looking positively svelte here.
It went to extra time. I was worried I'd be late for tea. Looks like the players were equally worried. Frank does love his pie & mash.
We were all saved though.
These guys were all worried penalties would mean that they would miss their tea. But everyone was home in time for pie & mash and Chelsea won. Everyone was happy, a happy ending, except for Blackburn fans, they were sorrowful. Oh well.

Trip to Reading

I made the trip down to see my girlfriend Kim, I got myself to Stockport station, when the first disaster struck. I thought this fast ticket machine looked innocent enough so i inputted my secret spy code.
It made the absurd claim I had only bought a one way ticket. It was no good arguing, although its evidence would never stand up in court I had to take this grievance to a higher authority. The ticket master...master of all tickets.
There was little to no queue and he read my code, looked on a screen and printed out my ticket without saying a word. I thought this was quite rude, but as he had took my side over that dastardly machine, I liked him. Who said robots will take over the world! Not with the Ticket Master around! I realised in all the controversy that I had 15 minutes to kill.
No time for you my trusty calorific friend.
No time for food, just for some reading material. I like Private Eye and I thought it was a good omen when the front page was about Gordon Brown going to the dentist, as I am also going to the dentist on Wednesday.
It was in fact, a terrible omen. I had forgotten my money and didn't have anything on my card. I moped off sulking, blaming Gordon Brown for my lack of money, damn exchequer, thinks hes so big and clever. I had to read the advertising displays instead, this one caught my eye.
I honestly think that would be quite an interesting exhibition. I noted down the details and heard the announcement the train was coming. I figured people would make way for a strangely smiling Bolton fan. So made my badge visible.
It didn't work, but not to worry, the train was empty anyway. I could have put my feet on the seats opposite, but that would have been blocking the gangway, and dirtying the seats for anyone who got on after me. I am not a nasty person so kept my feet to my floor.
As the train started moving I lent back safe in the knowledge I was in peace and nothing could disturb me, I remembered I had a couple of books in my bag, but couldn't remember what they were. I was pleasantly surprised by the first little gem.
This is a story of one mans struggle against a middle class upbringing, working class values, being undervalued and dealing with pressure. I can relate to all these except pressure. I rarely feel pressure. Frank gets called fat a lot. I sometimes think that drugs helpline, ask Frank, should have him answering calls, maybe too many people would be called 'geezer'. If Frank were in charge he wouldnt have a system of four tickets for 1 return journey.
He would say 'This is silly, lets just have one bigger ticket'. Unfortunately he is not in charge. I found this on the floor, it could be cleavage, a bum, a random shape but i prefer to think its a heart, i'm sensitive and like nice presents left for me on the floor.
On the subject of romanticism, I took this picture when traveling through Sandwell. Queen Victoria once asked for the blinds to be shut when traveling through the black country to block out the industrial smog. I like to think that this street hasn't changed since she rode past it in her carriage. I kept the blinds up though, I like the Black Country.
The journey got a bit boring so I took an emo style photograph of myself. I should really photoshop it black and white and put a frosty frame around it for the full effect, but I always was one to do things by halves.
After I finished posing in my own camera I realised time had elapsed, I was 30 minutes older and in Oxford.
More worryingly, I had finished the gospel of Frank Lampard. I had something to ease my pain though. If he is the Matthew of gospels then surely this man is the Luke.
I would suggest that Matt Le Tissier is the Mark and Jermaine Jenas is the John. I decided a trip to the toilet was in order. On Virgin trains there is always the danger that even when the door says locked...it could open at any time, and i would be caught staring at a mother and children with my pants down, and probably arrested.
I got off at Reading and saw many strange sights, They need little explantion.
I love the fact that Georges 16th Birthday is battling for prominence with a chewable toothbrush. Who calls a 16 year old George anyway? The same person that advertises his Birthday celebration without putting details, contacts or any other information. I dislike George.
This man was wearing a papier mache badgers head for a hat. Id LURRRVE to go for a pint with him. His girlfriend was wearing moonboots.
This is the mad couple in all their glory.
I decided to follow this man to my connection. I was tempted to see whether i could put a crisp wrapper in his bag but i got all giddy and nervous and my hand wasn't steady anymore. So I gave it a miss.
I got on his train and finally got off at Wokingham, The final destination. I must admit this hill gives the impression German troops could run over any seconds and shoot me to smithereens. I wasn't scared though, i had a hand grenade, and when i say a hand grenade, I mean a half eaten Whopper from Burger King.
And Finally, in case you are curious, my girlfriend!