A Christmas Cracker

Well it's that time of year again. Time to jingle your bells, polish your baubles, feed your reindeer, give your fairy a good wipe down & dispense off-colour smutty comments with look seemingly innocent, but when in the hands of a master smut dispenser give the Yule period an extra sparkle. It's Christmas Eve, and poor Santa, who only comes once a year (so different to me!) is getting ready to shoot down your chimney, empty his sack and fill you to the brim with festive deposits, so whack on some Christmas tunes, baste your turkey & wop it in a hot oven!

I am currently at that stage now where I am still considering & still putting off wrapping my presents but I know I will knuckle down in a minute and get on with it all, but before I do I just want to share something with you that I got off the amazingly funny @williamstafford off Twitter at the first Christmas Party I went to this year (in November).

Who are the perfect dinner guests to invite to your Christmas Party?

Emma Dreaming

Arthur White

Chris Muss

Jess Likedee

Juan Zi

Hugh Sterno

Wendy Treetops-Glisten

Ann Chilled-Wren

Liz Anne

"Two Ears" Laybelle

Cindy Snow

Emma Dreaming

Arthur White

Chris Mussunt

Avery Chris

Miss Carr

Dai Wright

Mayor Dazeby

Mary-Ann Bright

Ann May Hall-York-Rhys

Mrs B White

This is just a little blog to wish all of my Twitter Followers, Facebook Friends, Google+ers (who I don't know most of) a very, smutty, sexy, horny, loving, cuddly, happy, wonderful, marvellous

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

If I could get to each and everyone of you with my mistletoe (which I usually hang from my belt!) for a nice kiss I most definitely would. Have a great festive period & if you see me about say hi :)

@Gazabell xxx

PS - oh yes I did reach 100,000 tweets well before 2012 - my heartfelt thanks can be found HERE

Frankie do we remember you?

So it's official then! STD ridden, neglected Ewok look-a-like Frankie Cocknocker has been kicked out of the X-Factor for breaking one of the "Golden Rules". Is it terribly rude that I am glad he got kicked out. Not just the fact that he can't sing. It does my head in that he is bigged up as a party animal. If he is a party animal I must be like Oliver Reed!

Anyway you are probably more intrigued by the words "Golden Rules" and I can reveal the answers to you. As you may remember I work for Simon Cowell and can give you the inside story from SyCo about these mystery "Golden Rules". There are 10 of these said rules which vary each year and they are to be strictly adhered to at all times or the Wrath Of Cowell ("Cooooooowwwwwwwellllllll") will descend up you. These very strict rules or "Cowell Commandments" this year are, in no particular order:-

1. Thou Shalt Not Leave Your fetid cock discharge on Tulisa's pillow
2. Thou Shalt Not put Dermot's suits on a shrink wash
3. Thou Shalt Not out Louis Walsh
4. Thou Shalt Not swap Craig Colton's slimfast for protein shake
5. Thou Shalt Not hide one of Kitty Brucknell's eyebrows
6. Thou Shalt Not call Kelly Rowland "an annoying fucking c*nt" y'all
7. Thou Shalt Not wear your wig back to front
8. Thou Shalt Not claim that Steve Brookstein was the greatest ever XFactor winner
9. Thou Shalt Not call everyone RACHEL ADEDEJI in the style of Peter Dickinson
10. Thou Shalt Not get "Dawn Barlow" tattooed on your arse

If you can manage to stick to all of these commandments then you have every chance of reaching the final. At least now we don't have to worry about all these teenage slags who want to get poked by Frankie's green, blistered, dick voting for him. To those that did vote for him because you thought he was fit I say to you that this is what you could expect to see in the future

Welcome To The World Of Tomorrow...

Hello my friends and loyal blog readers. For those of you who may not know I recently became an uncle for a second time, as my new nephew Jack was born this week. He is only 4lbs at the moment because he is 6 weeks early, but he is looking great and will soon be home with his family.

Well it got me thinking that my nephew is being born five decades after me (which is strange when you think about that I have been alive in 5 different decades even though I am only 32! But count them 70’s [barely!] 80’s, 90’s, Noughties & the Tensies [whatever this is called]) and the world has changed so much over this time.

I thought I would do this blog so in 2029 when he is 18 he can look back and see some of the differences there are between the world of my generation and the world of his generation. So let me bridge the gap now between 2011 and 2029 – don’t worry this blog has a built in Flux Capacitor so you don’t have to leave the room.

Twatty Celebrities

You may not know this but Prime Minister Joey Essex was once just a reality TV star in the early 10’s. He might be the most tanned Prime Minister in history now, but back in 2011 the young Joey Essex & his annoying gaggle of scripted friends gained a following amongst the less cerebral people amongst this generation. Not only that but the woman you now know as Dame Katie Price was not yet completely made of plastic – some parts of her were still originals, I think it is her ankles and little finger. Also as you may remember from your history class we have also had to put up with Jedward – I know you won’t know much about them after their not-so-tragic disappearance in Liverpool in 2012 – but my good they were annoying, it is a good job I still remember about that cellar and feed the annoying pair of bastards….oh wait I have said too much forget about that.

Saying that I suppose it is not all one way traffic - at least I had the preparation of hearing Victoria Beckham sing to prepare myself for the onslaught of Harper 7 Beckham that was released on the world. And I can tell you now that nobody in a million years would have thought George Michael and Britney Spears would get married in 2011. As I was saying to Lady Wincey Willis the other day in the House of Lords celebrities in the 80s 90s & 00s where much superior to those in the 2020’s

World Affairs

We are living in a time of unrest in the world. Countries at war with each other – dictators dropping like flies, Europe on the brink of financial ruin, but you are probably planning your trip to Marmaris in the People’s Republic of West China now, but here in 2011 that country was called Turkey. Who would have thought that so much of the world would be under Chinese control now. President Timberlake needs to keep an eye on things really. Still I suppose it makes Geography easy for you. You won’t need to learn the capital of any Ukraine or Turkey, or Russia now that they are all ruled from Beijing. By the way how the hell did Coca-Cola get to build that giant Logo on the moon? It used to look so beautiful!

Technology

You don’t realise how lucky you are with your Virtual Reality, iPhone 25 and 180million megapixel cameras. When I was growing up we had to make do with Nokia phones! And Sega Mega Drives! And camera that you had to put film in and wind up to take a picture….and they only held 24 pictures on the film! There is no way I could happy slap a policeman and record it for YouTube. I had to get a mate to do a flick pad drawing and gather crowds around me in town! We had to use control pads to use a console when I was growing up and we had to use our fingers to dial numbers! And if you ask me 5D TV is far too many D’s to watch a television programme. The smell of Bruce Forsyth’s formaldehyde turns my stomach and his hands feel like parchment now! I must admit though I like those planes that go in space, it tickles my balls when we come back down, like driving over a bridge quickly.

Music

Now while you are there listening to that Nu-Electro music or whatever it’s called you will never know about Chakademus & Pliers, Lutricia McNeal, Scooch, Cleopatra (comin’ athca) or the Vengaboys, but we had real music in our day. The great Tom Jones still had his own hips in 2011 and while he may still be packing out arenas in 2029 it is just not the same watching him sing Sexbomb with an Oxygen Mask on. And while you might think of Westlife as classical music to us they are just a band that recycled the same song 500 times and never forgot about the key change in the final fifth. You need to check out some timeless music like Queen, ELO, Steps, and Take That! And I know that some of the women there are going wild over One Direction reforming, but I remember them when they were 5 spotty herberts who liked to sing on Perspex boxes.

It’s been a short guide Jack, but in spite of people thinking that I drink daily and so will be long gone through cirrhosis of the liver I am still alive as you well know. I fact wasn’t my 50^th Birthday party a great laugh. I’ve still got it haven’t I? Singing that classic F*ck You & shaking my still rather fine ass all over the dance floor, so if you want to know more just come and find me. I am your uncle after all & I am always there for you :)

A bit of a blogette really – not one of my best but hopefully it gave the odd chuckle along the way. I will endeavour to do blogs as regularly as I can. I just need a little inspiration sometimes so if you have any ideas for a topic you want to see let me know, or even if you want me to host a blog for you if you have your own masterpiece you want to share I am always happy to do that :)

@Gazabell

Bitchin' in 'Beefa

I was tempted to call this blog, what I did on my holidays by Gary Bell aged 32 and a bit, but I did not have to write this on my first day back in Primary School with what I used to call “September Hand” – you know that feeling you used to get when you had a whole 6 weeks off school and couldn’t hold a pen when you first went back. Instead I have opted for the title Bitchin’ in ‘Beefa because – well I went to Ibiza, and I did a lot of bitching. If you are a regular follower of mine then you will know that apart from my legendary shafts of wit (not a spoonerism) and my unbridled flirting (me flirt??) that I am rather fond of nicknaming people and taking the mickey out of them. Well you might not know this but in real life I have a female equivalent who just happens to be one of my best mates in the who world, and it was her, Roz, who I went on holiday with. As a result I think nearly everyone on holiday was given a nickname of some sort – why bother learning real names when you can let your mate know who you are talking about with a nice nickname. This might take a while so I will introduce you to the cast of characters:-

The Hotel Guests

The Proclaimers
This is standard procedure for me – if I meet 2 Scottish people at the same time they are always called the Proclaimers if they are the same sex, or the Krankies if they are different sex, unless they can be defined by some other Scottishness (as you will see). Well this nickname didn’t stick as it turned out that the 2 Scottish girls we talked to first were part of a group of 4 – we still called them The Proclaimers, but only because they were too nice to give any proper nickname to. You can follow one of the proclaimers on Twitter if you want – the lovely @leisurelyshoes

Kerplunk (aka Scotty Dog, aka Moppatop, aka Spongebob, aka Snoop Dog)
This was Scott, who was from New Zealand, and was travelling the globe. He has natural curly hair which is why we called him Moppatop, but his best nickname became Kerplunk after a night out when we all put straws (especially one of the Proclaimers who took a big handful off the bar) into his hair turning him into human Kerplunk. He got his SpongeBob nickname because as he was travelling he didn’t want to spend money so mooched of the Proclaimers one night.

Hamish McBeth McDougal McScotland McEngland McIreland McWales McTavish (aka Harry Potter)
He was another New Zealand traveller who had the most Scottish name ever – his name was actually Hamish Scotland McTavish – yes his middle name was Scotland! All the other Mc’s came from my “hilarious” attempt at making him sound more Scottish. He had an uncanny resemblance to Harry Potter when he had glasses on too!

Taggart (aka “For fucks sake is she off again the noisy bastard”)
This was a very Glaswegian woman who took great pleasure in saying the word “Murrrrrrderrrrr” like on Taggart hence a very easy nickname to have. She was also pissed most of the holiday, up at 8am and went to bed at 4am by the noise coming out of her. She was quite funny though – she told us that the barman tried to fob her off with a weak vodka so she said “oh crafty c*nt put some bleedin vodka in tha” which he did, only for her to find it too strong to drink. She was really loud though – so loud she made me sound like a Trapist Monk (this may be an exaggeration). I assume her husband was deaf.


The fella who looks like that c*nt who stole the eggs in Jurassic Park
This is a bit of a Ronseal nickname, but it was one of my favourite just because of how long it was. For those of you who haven’t seen Jurassic Park you won’t get this at all, but I mean the man who cut off the power to steal the eggs. This man was from Middlesbrough, and got over the problem of dealing with accents by talking really loud to the person 2 foot away from him.

Old Magnum PI and The Slow Olympian
Old Magnum PI basically looked like Tom Selleck in another 25 years time. He has a lovely luxuriant moustache and was a nice bloke. We called his wife the Slow Olympian because it used to take her about 25 mins to walk the toilet and back, and she would look like she had run a marathon when she got back, all this while about 4 or 5 people would have whizzed the toilet.

Rod Stewart & Red Rum
This was a woman who had the exact same hair as 80s Rod Stewart – we had a little side game with her of if we were near her at the bar or restaurant we had to hum or whistle a Rod Stewart song. Her husband was called Red Rum for the simple reason that he had bandages over his legs.

Big Fat Fucking German Stefan Dennis & his break dancing wife
It was Roz who named Stefan Dennis because he looked a bit like Paul Robinson from Neighbours and because she took a dislike to him because he kept on stirring at her. He stopped when I gave him the fingers one night though. I named his wife because while Roz & I were at a restaurant at the bottom of the stairs of the hotel they came down one night and she fell down a small step and managed to do a 180 degree spin on the floor like a break dancer.

The Scanners
Two posher women who may possibly have booked the wrong holiday, and who spent most of the evening scanning people up and down.


Little Hoffman
This was a teenage lad, who may not have been a full shilling, as he spent most of his days in the pool counting REALLY loud to 3 then going under water before coming out of the water making a noise like a whale blowing out its blow hole. We called him Little Hoffman because he had a touch of the Rain Man about him “oh ohhh forty matches forty matches fly Quantas”.

Clio/Picasso/Fiesta/Saxo
The young girl called Kia who we invariably named after any other brand of car

Frauline Patsy
This woman was a German who was constantly pissed. I don’t mean nicely drunk I mean Tramp drunk! She was stagger past us in the same white jeans every day looking like she didn’t have a clue what was happening. She had a look of a woman we work with Patsy so that’s where she got her nickname from. I used to call her Nut Brittle because she looked like she lived on bar snacks alone.

The Bidets
A couple who told us a funny story about the woman’s dad thinking a bidet was a foot washer

Bella Emberg, Miss Piggy & the man who needed an operation to get his clothes removed
These only came during the last few days and the nicknames are pretty self-explanatory. We weren’t actually sure that Bella Emberg was born a woman – she had the most unusual body shape I have ever seen on a woman! The man who needed an operation to get his clothes removed actually just wore the exact same clothes every day.

The Sad Sloth
Was a girl on holiday with her mate who thought she was much better looking than she actually was, and who put me in mind of a sloth that was rueful over some lost moment.

The OAPaedofiles
An old couple who took pictures of each other in various poses around the pool

Sport Billy
Was a huge big fat man who put me in mind of when French & Saunders used to get dressed up as those dirty old men. We called him Sport Billy as he was quite energetic for someone so obese, and could regularly be found breathing heavily near the Table Tennis, Air Hockey or Pool Table

Herman Von Nasalhorn
A German who had a nasal flute – basically it was a piece of wood he stuck up his nose and played Happy Birthday on. He couldn’t speak a word of English so just said “Vunderbar” a lot. He couldn’t even play the A-Team theme tune on his flute!

Three-Eater
Another big piss head who spent all day & night near the pool. Called three eater because he only had 3 teeth.

The low resolution pensioner & her baldy fanny
This was a girl who from a distance looked like she was in her sixties, but in high definition (or close up as you might know it) she was only in her twenties or thirties. She sat opposite us one evening and it looked like she had a huge baldy minge on show, but it turned out to be an optical illusion made by her thighs.

The Staff

Big Belly Shrivel Dick
This was the bar man Toni, who affectionately (we think) used to call us Greedy English, tell us off for being noisy of a night, then be our best mate of a day time. He didn’t have a nickname apart at first apart from “Spanish Alan” because he looked like a man we both used to work with. However, when he saw Roz eating biscuits he told her to stop because she would end up with a big fat arse. After deciding that calling him “a cheeky fucker” wasn’t enough it was Roz who said she should have said to him “Oi big belly shrivel dick I’ll eat what I want” and the name stuck.

Lego Head
Another bar man and the tallest Spaniard I have ever seen. He looked like his hair was made of Lego and he could take it off and swap it whenever he wanted to

Jeeeeesusssss (aka Juan Sheet)
Not even a nickname – his name was Jesús (Heysus) – but it always sounded funnier if you just called him Jesus. He did look like Juan Sheet off the Bounty Adverts

The Innumerable Old Spanish Dwarves
The hotel restaurant seemed to be stocked full of very tiny old Spanish waitresses!

The Randoms

Heinrich Remover
A German we met a few times in one of the bars – he was a really nice lad who struggled with English until I taught him a bit of Scouse “De do dough dondee dough”. His name was Heinrich and originally he was known as Heinrich Manouver, but Roz got pissed on Cherry Coke Cocktails & drunkenly called him Heinrich Remover & that stuck

Markus The Sex Pest
Heinrich’s mate who was pissed the 2nd time we met him and was all over one of the Proclaimers until he eventually got dragged away by Heinrich.

Just Jackie & Her Cat Attracting Fanny
Scouse compare at one of the bars, with jokes she obviously stole from Pauline Daniels. The older people at the hotel loved her and went to her pub most nights. Me & Roz had a theory that she had some kind of vaginal problem as random cats seemed to follow her everywhere.

Satellite Belly Button
A very drunk homosexualite who took a shine to me, but who pissed me off because he was that bevied and loud during the day and I am only night time sociable when I am abroad. We don’t know if there was anything wrong with the belly button but it was huge! It was bigger than Eamon Holmes face!

The 10 Years Younger Klingon
A possible transvestibule that we saw in San Antonio, who looked like a botoxed Klingon who had been on 10 Years Younger.

Linda La Hughes
A woman who looked the spit of Linda La Hughes from Gimme Gimme Gimme – she had the exact same hair colour!

Mr Rumbold
The man who had big sticky out ears who I made Roz piss herself laughing over when I said “Go and grab those chairs near Mr Rumbold” – youngsters Mr Rumbold was a character in Are You Being Served?

The Speedofiles
A family of three who seemed very pleased to be all wearing speedos

Norman Wisdom & His Shadow
A drunk in one of the pubs who looked and had the same mannerisms as Norman Wisdom, and who in a strange quirk of nature or possibly a good angle was standing in the exact same position, as a black man just behind him with a hat on

_________

There were so many more but too much time has passed for me to remember everyone now unfortunately. I could make this blog much longer by telling you what happened but I will just give you some of my vague personal highlights:-

• Ring of Fire – which led to
o FANDANGO
o The Covered Eye Telling Off
o Hopping the bar
o Riding a pool queue around the stage
o Diving to the floor
• Pole Dancing – regularly
• Bucking Bronco
• @Leisurelyshoes hangover trip to San Antonio
• Toni saying Rebecca (a Proclaimer) was “dead behind the eyes”
• We Are The Children Of The Night
• The Transvestites visit Peppers 2
• The Old Woman Crying who was actually a bin bag
• Wee Zee’s attempts to get on a Lilo
• Rebecca’s attempts to dive
• Barbara’s turning an insult from an drunken Englishman into an insult to an Englishman
• The Lesbian show down
• The phantom snorer
• My sleeptalking promise to “Take Kate up the Matterhorn”
• The Biscuit Fingerer
• The sleeping Chinese man
• Chasing Roz around the pool table Benny Hill style
• Racing to get the seat facing people in the restaurants
• Farty cankles on the plane on the way out & home
• The fella who looked like the brother of the c*nt who stole the eggs from Jurassic Park having to empty his hand luggage on the way home.
• Saying Das Boot to every German I met as a greeting
• My mangled German version of 99 Red Balloons entitled Numfty-Numpf Red Ballomps
• Singing on Karaoke
• Fat Frogs & Cherry Cola cocktails
• The fitty behind the bar
• Shouting “CHOOOOOOONNN” whenever any old dance songs came on
• Getting a Scottish girl to check if a Transvestite stood up for a wee when he went the ladies
• @leisurelyshoes fuck off face when people got on her nerves
• The fit Burger King we had once my food apathy kicked in

____________________________

So much happened on that holiday in such a short time. All I know is that the weather was brilliant, the people I met were great fun and I drank so much alcohol it was unbelievable. I don’t think this is my best ever blog really but do you know what – at least I will look back on it in a few years and it should rekindle some memories. Maybe you will join me in a round of Numfty-Numpf Red Ballomps as I toast the weird & wonderful people who spent a week shouting “Gaaaaaaarrrrryyyy” & doing a *thumbs up* at me or being a victim of my piss taking ways.

Hasta Lluego Ibiza

@Gazabell

Behind The Bars: The Gazabelljailed Story

Hello All

It's been a week since his last one but the talents of @mrtomsimpson are never ending it seems. He has only done another edition of Toms News, this one is about my alter ego - the erstwhile @gazabelljailed - read on as you hear the truth about what lies beneath the bars

@gazabell

TOMS NEWS October 2011

@Gazabelljailed - THE TRUTH

During moments of high frequency tweeting all of gazabells loyal, beautiful, sexy followers will be aware that he disappears from out timelines, to be replaced by gazabelljailed. Some people think this is just gaz himself, tweeting from a different account as he’s been thrown into twitter jail. Dearest readers I have uncovered the truth and it’s a lot more darker than a photo shopped black and white profile picture covered in bars…

The fact is gazabelljailed is gazabells evil twin, sentenced to life imprisonment many years ago for drunkenness, bad innuendo, cursing of the worst kind against celebrities, incorrect spelling, excess masturbation and smutty sleaziness towards his impressionable followers. When gazabelljailed appears on twitter, he has broken free from prison, knocked out our own dear gaz and set about ruining his untainted, angelic reputation. For example Gaz would never make references to male genitals, fellatio or mindless drinking.

Dressed in my smartest suit I made a visit to the high security institution gazabelljailed is currently incarcerated in. Following several, rigorous thorough searches and security checks I was allowed in. I walked along the eerie corridor, lined floor to ceiling with metal bars to the clear glass cell at the end. My first glimpse of gazabelljailed was just what I expected: prison pallor, dressed in regulation dungarees from Grundy Televisions 1980s smash hit Prisoner, hands cuffed behind his back with a look of seething frustration and anger on his face. I could only compare the look he gave me as that what Hannibal Lecter gives to Clarice Starling in the 1991 film Silence of the Lambs. Yet although the grim appearance he welcomed me with a cheerful “good morning, you’s alright” and the offer of a diet Pepsi. His cell was lined with row upon row of well used tablets of soap, boxes of Kleenex for men and a variety of unlabeled DVD’s, it was remarkably tidy although I did notice his waste bin was full to the brim with empty bags of Doritos, water bottles, timeout wrappers and used stiff tissues.

I questioned him extensively, probing deeply as to why he makes these unwanted visits onto our timelines (generally 8-10pm but occasionally morning too) and his response was he thinks his twin chatters far too much to far too many nice people and he wants in on the action. He is sick of feeling left out of the cool gang and playing second fiddle to everyone’s favourite. I also managed to ascertain how he escapes the guards and confines of prison, but this being a family newspaper it would be unacceptable to print.

I gained the following information though, once he has escaped he tracks down gazabell, knocks him out with chloroform and then opens his @gazabelljailed account. He then makes attempts at pretending to be his brother, locked out by twitter wanting help and assistance from the hell hole that is twitter jail. He then gets inundated with kindness and sympathy and offers of help from all the sexy followers and he laps then up like a cat with a saucer of jersey cream.

Gazabelljailed was leering at me throughout the interview and made lots of smutty remarks. I was warned beforehand of course, but it all got a little too much for me so I left him in the company of the guards and headed back to the main entrance. The guards on duty explained to me about these escapes gazabelljailed makes, they couldn’t tell me how he does it but did say he is always caught within 2 hours, they return him to his cell and attend to the real gazabell, bring him back to consciousness and establish him back on twitter, he is generally unaware anything has happened, he just thinks he dozed off. The guards were anxious to let all followers know not to fall for the pleas for cakes with nail files, dynamite, help with tunnel building etc. It’s all just an act to make you believe you are talking to the real gazabell, its best to just chat to him as normal until the help arrives and he goes silent again. As I left the institution I could hear the faint sounds of someone singing “on the inside”, water running and bars of soap being dropped.

So readers you now know the truth about gazabelljailed, he cannot be trusted, who wants a dangerous predator on the loose in one of the UK’s major cities. What we want is him safely contained and his account removed so we can all enjoy multitalented gazabell witty, slightly dirty, flirty tweets in peace.

“what do we want?”

“GAZABELL”

When do we want it?”

“ALL THE TIME WITHOUT INTERRUPTION FROM GAZABELLJAILED!”

So twitter get your act together, give Gaz 24 hour protection from his evil twin and allow us all to have conversations with him without the worry of evil gazabell jailed getting jealous and escaping.

© T Simpson Productions MMXI All character and events in this story are entirely fictitious, any similarity to real events and people is entirely planned.

Gazabell's Got Talent

Now before you think I have gone all big headed I need to tell you that it is not me who has written this blog. It was done by one of my followers to make me laugh, and laugh I did. A lot! Since I checked with him and he is happy for me to post it on here you will all get the chance to read the funny Press Release he has written about me. I think writing this for me deserves a BIG SHOUTOUT so if any of you aren't following @mrtomsimpson then I suggest you start right away!

Without further ado - let me present his work!

TOMS NEWS 28^th September 2011

BGT AXED IN SHOCK MOVE!

High waisted, botox faced Simon Cowell, 64, has announced the cancellation of Britain’s Got Talent next year, due to the fact that one man on Merseyside is so multitalented no one else can compare. Nobody can be that good I hear you cry, well …………………….

Fresh faced, cheeky, charming, Gary Bell, 27, of Liverpool (pictured right) is so full of talent that it is a wonder to most people how he hasn’t spontaneously combusted in his young life.

His talents include: gold medal standard alcohol consumption (much like the handsome Tom Simpson or glamorous 1980s starlet Wincey Willis). The ability to turn an everyday general conversation into filth, a prime example of this would be his response to this innocent statement, “I’m rummaging through my drawers, I hope I succeed, as the last time the knob came away in my hand” his reply of “lucky ceed, he’d come off in my hand anytime” goes to show his outstanding ability to see the smut, in a good clean sentence. His grasp of the English language is amazing, he loves using alliteration, metaphors, similes and onomatopoeia. Evidence of this can be heard during his infrequent twadio shows broadcast to the nation, his Liverpool tones are strong but he has the talent to use them eloquently and concisely. Friends have commented on his sensational cake baking skills, so marvellous in fact that the said friend had to savour each mouthful and it took several hours to consume one slice, he equally has excellent meat eating skills (he‘ll never give up hot pork sausages). Mr Bell even has the know how to develop his own self proclaimed method to spank a bare arse, which amazingly causes the recipient no pain whatsoever, just satisfaction for both parties involved. His woodwork skills are second to none, as you probably expected, what he can’t do with a length of solid hard wood is no bodies business.

You will undoubtedly have heard of Elton John, Cee Lo Green and Rod Stewart, but once Mr Bells singing is unleashed on the public they will all pale into insignificance due to Gary’s incredible vocal range and breathing techniques. He also boasts expert dance skills, so good that the Channel Four seven dwarves copy his dance moves step by step on their weekly docusoap.

Another talent Mr Bell uses on a regular basis is his strong mind and body, he doesn’t need ‘wimp’ breakfasts, just mid morning cheese based snacks and water to power through his high powered job using the latest technology to seek out careers for clients. He has won awards due to his strong work ethic and his commitment to his punters. He has so many more talents, but this article unfortunately has a word limit and I have stroked his ego sufficiently, however Mr Bell is so modest about himself that he leads a relatively quiet life, he avoids publicity at all costs and would never shamelessly advertise or shout about the wonderful gifts he possesses.

So attention all singers, dancers, impressionists, broadcasters, organ fiddlers, cake bakers, heavy drinkers, expert spellers and blue comedians, you are now redundant in Great Britain but try one of the international version talent shows, they’re always on the look out. Britain only needs the one and only G Bell.

The newspaper has also learned that the oxford English dictionary is set to remove the word talent from all publications from this point on. The word talent will be replaced with gazabell, here are some examples:

“oh my, you are so gazabelled” (talented)

“That is a good gazabell to have” (talent)

“You are multi gazabelled” (multitalented)

Unfortunately for the vast majority of the british public Mr Bell does not make many public appearances.

He can be found though, at the highly exclusive ‘royal’ twartys (strictly invite only) occasionally at tweet ups (by appointment only) but every evening, give or take real life events, he can be found on twitter, come join the fun, just remember that he is so multigazabelled that it may make you feel unworthy of his company. I though, can guarantee you that he is a jolly nice man, who’s large amount of gazabell doesn’t make him bigheaded in the least.

© Tom Simpson productions MMXI LOL all rights reserved

It's My Twarty & I'll Cry (with laughter) If I Want To

Hello there fair readers of my blog. You are in for another treat from the legend that is Dame @WinceyWillis1 today as she has kindly let me host her latest blog, about her 1st Twitterversary and how she chose to celebrate it.

Enjoy

@Gazabell

______________________________

17^th August will never be the same again.

Obviously I have no recollection of my first birthday but I have of my first anniversary on twitter. Not for the entire time you understand, around 3.30am it gets a bit blurred.

I decided I wanted to celebrate with the people I have become closest to, who are also the most fun. The idea of a Twarty soon took over. I worked out how many I could accommodate, this was to be a 2 day event, and invited those who had helped me from the very beginning. Those who discreetly put me on the right path if I was committing a Twitter faux pas. Those who had made me welcome and accepted from the start.

I was told by non twitter friends that I was barking, inviting ‘strangers’ to stay. I had only met two of them before, but I had spoken often on the ‘phone to the others. They asked if they should call to check on me. I refused one of my closest friend when she asked if she could come. I explained it was a Twarty strictly for tweeps. I didn’t want to spend most of the evening explaining in jokes.

I had a purple shiny balloon with TWARTY written on it in silver, tied to the hedge at the bottom of my drive. Wonder what the neighbours thought? Fortunately they are far enough away, so mayhem could ensue. My guests had taken time off work, which I really appreciated, midweek isn’t a usual time for a party. This was no ordinary party, a Twarty had to be on the actual anniversary day.

The sun was shining and we spent the first few hours on the patio with raucous laughter echoing across the fields. There are certain people who bring a mood to a room as soon as they enter, I was blessed with the best bringers of joy and laughter anyone could wish for. Innuendo became the accepted form of communication.

There was a double mattress to be blown up and the thing that inflates tyres if plugged into a cigarette lighter didn’t work. Don’t think I have to be too specific about the jokes this particular task spawned, when it was done by taking turns.

There was enough alcohol to re-float the Titanic, food was on hand all the time. Not me doing a Nigella but very obliging caterers had delivered earlier.

Twarty Rules were spelled out on a welcome notice.

Thou shalt get pissed

Thou shalt have fun

Thou shalt eat lots

Thou shalt give hostess regular hugs

For those hell bent on an early demise there is

Cancer Corner outside (Illustrated with a coffin)

We had a caption competition and a Karaoke machine, as I knew one of my guests was particularly brilliant at that. Of course the rest of us soon turned it into a sound track of drunks being thrown out of a club in the small hours.

On the first night bodies were sleeping all over. It looked like the opening shot of a movie after the population had been gassed. I must point out that at no time did anything untoward occur. Although I suspect many song writers would disagree.

The bottle count was unbelievable. I would need the whole boot of the car when I went to recycle them. Remarkably only two guests had Ibuprofen as a first course of breakfast.

I have never suffered from laughter ache before. My jaw muscles confirmed that it was one of the most fantastic times I have ever had. You may know who my guests were, I won’t name them here, as we said at the time, ‘What goes on at the twarty stays at the twarty’. I hope we will always be friends.

I love Twitter.

WinceyWillis ©

29^th August 2011

A Jail Of Two Twitties

I thought I would do a bit of a blog about the phenomenon of #Twitterjail. As you may or may not be aware I am a bit of an expert on this cold, dark soulless place – it’s the place where the bad boys & girls of Twitter go – whether they are a serial offender, a Twebel without a cause or just bored stiff and feeling the need to tweet A LOT.

For those of you who do not know what #Twitterjail is then let me explain. For a good reason Twitter has set a limit on how many tweets you can do in an hour and day. The reason is those dreaded Spambots and cockknockers who tweet you all shit about “I saw this bad thing in a blog about you”, or pounce if you mention Star Wars, Gary Glitter or the nameless one – let’s call him – Justine Beaver. Now nobody wants to have to face those terrors, well unless you actually crave company that much that you declare you are a Bel-eaver (see what I did!), who is sitting down watching Star Wars, while listening to Leader Of The Gang and ordering v1@gra off a dodgy site. I can totally see why Twitter does that.

However, their system also stops the chatty Tweeps of Twitter – people like me, who can easily bash their 114 Tweets Per Hour no problems – and as a result I get temporarily suspended from Tweeting for usually an hour, occasionally a lot less and often a lot more. This leaves you with the option of DMing – which people can miss anyway, or the clever option I used – setting up a second account – in my case @gazabelljailed

Firstly let me combat some myths you might have about why you end up in #Twitterjail. People have asked if it’s because I swear so much. The answer is no – there is not someone at Twitter HQ sitting there waiting for me to drop the F-Bomb right in yo’ jive ass faces so they can clamp me in irons and haul my Sweary Ass away. It is not because I mention sex or wanking either, in fact I reckon if there was such as person they would be getting off on such tweets and would be wanking themselves silly- which would make “Stopping The Rapture” a lot easier!

The reason I get sent to #Twitterjail so often is simply because I @reply everyone who tweets me, unless I miss their tweet. If you counted my many tweets you would see that I don’t actually tweet open tweets for everyone all that much – maybe 10 an hour – the bulk of my tweets are because I get into a conversation with someone, usually some smutty banter, ripping someone on the telly or just general chit chat, and I soon find myself racing up to the limit. You still might think that is excessive, but I have over 1600 followers and will reply to anyone who tweets me – even if only 114 of those followers tweet me & I reply to them all in an hour I would be jailed.

Some people suggest that #Twitterjail is fun – I am usually okay in there now. Think of me as Twitter Fletcher – I do my time, keep my nose clean, but still have fun while I am in there. However, for the newbie Twitterjail can be a scary place, which with the shower bummings, cavity search by Johnny Longfingers, Twitter food (Mainly eggs) and that Governor who will only let you out if you….erm how shall I put it?....perform a small service on him (*wipes mouth*). There are some perks though – I mean some say I look sexier with bars across my face, and there is always the blonde guard. There is the banter you get off people as well. If I had a pound for everyone who told me not to drop the soap I would currently have £364. I do like the way that people will offer to help. I like the way that people believe me when I say if the tweet #FreeTheGazabellOne I will get released quicker. I don’t like people saying they will sneak a file into me though – I hate doing admin so do your own paperwork. All in all though Twitterjail is not that fun, and I sometimes have to worry that even @gazabelljailed will get sent to #Twitterjail. I suppose there is always @gazabelljailedjailed if that happens.

So why don’t I give you some facts about #Twitterjail then?

• You will be Twitterjailed if you tweet approx. 114 Tweets in an hour or 1000 in a day
• You can be DM jailed too – I think its 250 per day and DM jail is a longer sentence (24hrs)
• Sentence is usually 1hr in length – it tends to be shorter during the day, and longer between 7pm-2am
• Stay away from Twitter Ives – he is ‘Orrible
• Take some posters of your sexiest followers – I tend to while away the wee hours using a poster of Dame @WinceyWillis1 wearing one of her 80s jumpers whilst pushing a helicopter over a map
• If you are not partial to a spot of bumming use soap on a rope. If you are then shout “Ooops” and bend over often
• Beware of Big Alice – she has a right hook on her!
• If you hear drunken singing don’t worry it is usually @TMCPhotographs – she controls the booze racket on the Women’s Wing
• If you are attempting to escape #Twitterjail then don’t fake a heart attack. ALL of the wardens remember Lizzie from Prisoner Cell Block H and won’t be fooled.
• Lesbians give fantastic hugs
• You can get conjugal visits if you ask the right person so fill your boots
• Don’t get hooked on Twitter Smack – it is lethal!

Those facts should be enough to help you through those early days in Twitterjail anyway, and if you are ever in there pop up and see me – I’m on the top floor near Twitter Grouty. Knock before you enter though – you never know what I am up to ;P

@Gazabell (and often @Gazabelljailed)

Nice To See You...

Picture the scene – It’s the Garden Of Eden, and a very angry Mr God has just banished Adam & Eve for being greedy apple eating bastards, the serpent is condemned to crawl on his belly, and the angel with the fiery sword guards the path so nobody can return - Oh yeah I’ve got a B in Religion GCSE, I know my Bible! (Would have been an A if I knew my Koran a bit better!) but there is one person who is never mentioned in the scriptures, one man who has roamed the Earth for millions of years – if you listen closely you will hear him tap dancing his way out of the Garden of Eden trying to perfect a new catchphrase “Didn’t she do…bad?”

Fast forward a few thousand years and Our Lord Jesus has been crucified and has been in his tomb for three days, when suddenly the witnesses hear the sound of “Life…is the name of the game, and I want to play the game with you…” Suddenly, Jesus has risen from the dead, and the sound of tap dancing fades into the distance. Didn’t he do well?

Fast forward another few thousand years and there is trouble brewing in England. Civil war threatens the stability of the country. A battle takes place at Edgehill and things look bad for the Royalists, when suddenly a loud noise is heard booming from the hill – everybody looks up and there silhouetted against the moon is the figure of a man…half crouching, fist to head, chin made of granite, slender legs tapered behind him, and he says the immortal words “Nice to see you…” and all assembled cannot help themselves “…to see you nice” – but it is not nice, as the man of legend, older than Joan Collins herself, jumps down the hill and tap dances over every single roundhead on the battle field. Didn’t he do well? However it is not enough to turn the tide of the war, and because of his royalist leanings the legendary man is forced into hiding for hundreds more years.

We reach 1916 and the First World War is raging. The Allies need a new weapon to help them in the war. Technology has progressed and the horseless carriage has come to the fore. However, they are just not strong enough to survive battle. But then he appears again out of nowhere at a secret military location, so secret that even he does not know where it is, and he shows them that horseless carriages can be made sturdier. He brings out his secret weapon – it is a horseless carriage with giant sized playing cards attached to it all over making a giant shell – ladies and gentlemen that Tank is invented. Didn’t he do well?

But he disappears again…
…not too long this time though. For as prophesised by Nostradamus himself in 1939 he appears to perk up morale during the war

“And lo when the silver birds of the sky shall deploy their wretched spheres of
Destruction about the green and pleasant land, they boy of atoms shall appear
and shalt question the people about how well she or he did”

And the prediction came true….that man is none other than Sir Bruce Forsyth. Owner of the finest hair ever produced by the British Cotton Company, the beadiest eyes seen on a non-eagle, and the ability to entertain any crowd he chooses. He has barely changed over the years. He will tap dance if anyone so much as looks at him, will sing like a Britain’s Got Talent Pensioner act, and will spout words of poetry not heard since the Bard himself was alive. Poems such as….

“I’m the leader of the pack,
Which is what makes me such a lucky jack,
They say all good things come in pairs,
Well look at these two croupiers,
Look at them they’re so appealing,
Come on Dollies, do your dealing”

Words to bring tear to a glass eye I am sure you will agree!

So let me tell you a few facts about Brucie….

Did you know….know did you?
That because of all his tap dancing, Brucie has a stronger kick than a shire horse.

Did you know….know did you?
Brucie’s hair is so flame retardant that he singlehandedly put out the fire at Windsor Castle by doing a headstand throughout the building.

Did you know….know did you?
The cards in Play Your Cards Right were originally normal sized, but Brucie refused to wear glasses so they just made the cards bigger over the years

Did you know….know did you?
That Brucie trades in his wife for a taller model every 25 years because he refuses to wear glasses

Did you know….know did you?
As well as writing the theme tune to the Generation Game, Brucie also wrote the popular songs, Smack My Bitch Up, Mull of Kintyre, Agadoo, and Edge of Glory

Did you know….know did you?
That Brucie’s chin is so strong that Geoff Capes once broke his wrist when he accidently waved his hand into Brucie’s face

Did you know….know did you?
That even at the age he is now Brucie has sex every 4 hours, and is still very good in the sack, but is insecure and asks to ask about himself “Didn’t he do well?”

Did you know….know did you?
That Brucie was already a Sir after being given the honour by Elizabeth I for undisclosed services, though rumour has it she was not such a Virgin afterwards


So love him or hate him – you have to admit that the man is a living legend, and if you don’t agree he will tap dance all over you and then your grave. Who knows what the future holds for Sir Bruce Forsyth. I have heard rumours that the Ministry Of Defence are currently making some humungous sized playing cards ready to deploy if Brucie demands it, and the world’s Tallest Woman has been seen hanging around the Strictly Come Dancing studio.

No matter what happens we will always know that it is “Nice to see you….to see you nice”

@Gazabell

There Is Nothing Like A Dame

Take yourself back to the Eighties – not literally, unless you are The Doctor or Dr Sam Beckett you may find this impossible – I mean in your mind (Yep – sorry youngsters this blog might be a bit before your time – don’t worry I will get around to doing a Power Rangers one at some point that you can enjoy :D). Have you done it? Cast yourself back. Look around you and what do you see? Perms & Mullets abound, Shoulder Pads are huge, there is a woman(ish) in charge of the country, and a rat is the biggest ratings winner on TV.

But who is interested in Roland Rat on telly when you look at the same programme he is on and she her….Blonde Mulleted, wearing some of the snazziest jumper combos seen in the eighties, and giggling like a loon. It can only be one person….Wincey Willis! So famous she goes to An Audience With… recordings, and has been name checked by Victoria Wood, and she bestrides our screen like a juggernaut of lovlieness.

Fast forward more years than you could imagine and now she bestrides a different arena – the online sexiverse that is Twitter, and that’s what I am going to blog about. You might think about her for different reasons – for being a journalist, author, editor, conservationist, radio presenter, or even for helping buffoons guide Aneka Rice around a town in a helicopter, but for me Wincey Willis is now always going to be about Twitter.

As you may have read in some of her previous blogs Dame Wincey joined Twitter purely because somebody was pretending to be her, but in my opinion, that person has done us all a massive favour. I, like some people, was a bit sceptical when I saw her tweeting, and thought it was another one of these sad acts who pretends to be someone they aren’t because they are too scared that people won’t find them funny in their real life persona. Then that awkward moment came when she tweeted me after one of my piss take comments no doubt. Being that I am a bloody lovely person (hell yeah you know it! Lol) I replied and thought nothing of it, then I got another tweet – telling me off for spelling Wincey wrong – then more tweets followed, a bit of banter and then oh no she followed me. I don’t normally follow “fake” celebs unless they are funny, but I was unsure whether @WinceyWillis1 was real or not, so I had a closer look at her profile and tweets. If she was fake then her tweets were pretty convincing so I gave her the benefit of doubt. I don’t know why I was so worried. We tweeted each other more over the next couple of days and it soon became apparent that she was the real deal. What’s more it soon became apparent that I found her engaging, funny, sweet and just the little bit smutty – just what I want in a follower!

I soon became the unofficial official Twitter guide for Dame Wincey – after bamboozling her with the terms we use on Twitter. A few times I would get a tweet saying “what is ROFL?” Knowing me I probably made up some bullishit like “Rolf Orgasms For Llamas”. On another occasion I had to explain what #Twitterjail was – after I think she thought I was really a prisoner somewhere.

This probably made me like Dame Wincey even more – how many celebrities do you know that would try to organise a Jail Break gang for you, complete with dynamite, tunnels, seduction and smuggling?

More banter has followed over the past year or so we have followed each other – from the formation of our double act WinceyBell (due to play the 02 arena in 2012), to Star Wars Tennis, to blog wars, to the near elimination of my use of the c-word on Twitter and now we have agreed to have a tweet up over the summer. How lucky is she getting to meet me!

Anyway, if you follow @WinceyWillis1 (oooo I’ve plugged you now Dame Wincey – was it good for you?) then you will see that she is the best celebrity on Twitter. She is down to earth, tweets funny things, replies when she can, promotes Merlot so much that I am sure she is getting freebies, and never ever tries to do a weather report. Saying that she tries to stop me from swearing sometimes (to some but not a lot of effect) and she has a tendency to blame cows for all the poo in her garden (there are no cows nearby – say no more!) so she has her bad points too!

So why is she Dame Wincey? Well for her services to Tweeting of course and because she is a great person to follow. I am allowed to bestow Damehoods, because I am the King Of Twitter according to her (I don’t like to correct her but I am actually the Emperor Of Twitter!) and I think it is a well deserved one.

So basically this blog is a bit of a salute to the living legend that is Dame Wincey Willis – I’m proud to call her a follower, tweep, Dame and friend. If you aren’t following you are missing out and if you are following her (she has long overtook me now!) then you already knew all of this I have written about and you have wasted 5 minutes of your life you fool!

Keep tweeting Dame Wincey

Lots of Love
@Gazabell

One Hundred & Forty Characters

Hello there Peeps

I have a special treat for you all today.

Remember a couple of months ago Dame @WinceyWillis1 very kindly wrote a piece for my own humble blog. Well she has very kindly done another one for me & just 1 day before my #Twitterversary which I consider to be a very nice gesture from one of my best Twitter Friends.

Now read on as the Dame takes us on another journey

@Gazabell


One Hundred & Forty Characters
Sounds like the cast list of an am dram panto where everyone has to have a part. The stage for this particular show is enormous; the audience don’t buy tickets they drop in and out as they please. They aren’t expected to be silent and what they get up to during the performance sometimes beggars belief.

Yes we are talking of the round the clock show that is Twitter. It is eleven months since I joined the cast and what an eye opener that has been. The fun is in the fact that we are both audience and player, observing and interacting as we choose. There are many things that I have learned during my apprenticeship, some of which I will share with you now.

It didn’t take too long to figure that for quite a lot, sexual gratification came high on their reasons for participation. Whether it was with someone else or on their own if you get my drift. When it was posted if the world was going to end in 8 minutes what would you do? The women mostly declared they would hug their children or ‘phone people who they loved to tell them so, a very high percentage of the men were single handily busy!!!

I love the random tweets that make me laugh. I remember one saying there were over 4million work related injuries, so play it safe and call in sick. More or less the next one asked if anyone had any thoughts on silicone bake ware. I pondered if that was a euphemism but I don’t think so. I did once have cause, and I can’t remember why, to tell @Gazabell to lay back, head on cushion and your hands where I can see them. To which he replied, “I’ll keep them down my pants for safe keeping”.

One of my favourite tweeps told me his partner always checks his tweets before he sends them, he worries if they will offend me. I thought that was utterly charming. However I have not lived a sheltered life so I would say 95% of the tweets make me either laugh, learn something, or be concerned for the tweeter.
When someone turned a bit nasty towards me the outpouring of sympathy and kindness was overwhelming. People wanted to send their thoughts directly to the person but I didn’t think they deserved the oxygen of publicity. I loved one particular tweet from @Assimilathis that said “Set your gays on him”. I am so very lucky to have 2300+ followers and what a diverse group you are.

Merlot still plays a significant part in my twitter life, even if I don’t drink it every waking hour most tweeps seem to think I do. I loved the posts from @Ianpearce which said “She is a bit like Mary Poppins but with a carpet bag full of empty wine bottles” and @apophthegmist who said “Twitter has infected my brain. Spotted a bottle of Merlot earlier and my first thought was Wincey Willis”.

August 17th will be my first Twitter Anniversary, buy shares in Merlot now. Not that I need an excuse, cheers my dears. :-))))

Wincey Willis

Being Taken Up The Orme

Here in the UK we don’t get sunshine all that often. Not proper good burn yourself sunshine like you might get in more exotic climates. We get our wishy washy sun most of the time and that is it. However, occasionally we get some really good hot sunny days and then it happens. Some animal instinct kicks in and we are aware that the concrete jungle is not where we want to be. We want the smell of the sea, the sounds of people moaning about being shat on by a seagull, and the aroma of greasy fish and chips wafting up our nostrils. This all happened to me two weeks ago when the sun starting cracking the flags and I felt the pull off the sea (well the fish & chips really) and felt a desire to visit the seaside.

Now I know most people think of Liverpool as a place where we spend our days roaming around in our shell suits, with a giro burning a hole in our pockets, telling people to calm down, whilst struggling to carry all of the hubcaps we have a compulsion to steal. While this is actually true for the minority we are actually a cultured place, famed for our music, football, comedy, and men who stop the rapture by wanking – and we are of course a costal city – and as such have some lovely beaches, with hardly any floating shit in the sea and proper sand, none of that gravelly shit they have in Tenerife!

However, I got a deeper yearning – a yearning to relive a bit of my youth – a youth where I spent my holidays in North Wales, places like Talacre, Rhyl, Betws-y-coed, Conwy and Llandudno. Now I have always been a big fan of the letter L, especially when it is next to another L (phwooaaarr) and so I decided my destination would be Llandudno. I called my mate Roz who was well up for going so I set off in the car and picked her up. Then she dropped her bombshell – she wanted us to climb The Great Orme – which in case you don’t know is a huge hill. Now I’m not really an exercise person but I’m prepared to give these things a go. Plus I knew that Fish & Chips would appear on the menu at some point during the day so I agreed we would – these words would come back to haunt me!


Anyway that was later on in the day. Firstly we got to Llandudno and I parked miles (realistically maybe a mile) away from the pier as we thought we would struggle for space so we set off on a nice leisurely walk to the pier. Two things hit us immediately – one that there were a lot of old people around (thus making me feel like a teenager) and two there is a shop somewhere that is doing a roaring trade in Beige clothing – I cannot believe how many people we saw wearing some beige clothing – in fact it became a bit of a game for us to try to take a picture of everyone we saw wearing beige. A game we had to quickly give up when Roz’s camera batteries were about to run out! There must have been hundreds of the Beige Brigade around!

Anyway after deftly avoiding some classic car show – with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in it! – and ignoring the screeching noise of Punch & Judy! We made it to the pier. Things haven’t changed on Llandudno Pier – there are still arcades, still go karts, still a fortune teller (who has inevitabley done readings for stars such as “TV’s Peggy from Hi-De-Hi, “Crossroads” Amy Turtle, “Singer” Arthur Mullard and “Comedian” Tom O’Connor) and the biggest guarantee of all – 3 shops selling lots of Country & Western cassettes/CDs who without a shadow of a doubt will have a tape playing either an obscure C&W artist or a set from an Irish Comedian you have never heard of, telling jokes your Dad would be ashamed to tell! It didn’t put us off though – we walked to the end of the pier taking in the sites – even pondering for a number of minutes why a man who was fishing off a 40ft concrete platform at the end of the pier would need to be wearing waders?!?!?!

Anyhoos we did the pier and The Great Orme was next on the agenda – now there was a problem that had developed during the course of the day – that problem was my trainers (or traineeeees if you are a fully fledged Scouser like me) - they were trying to slice my toes off. You see I had washed them in a hot wash in the machine and they had shrunk – so much so that I had lost feeling in one foot. We therefore had to do some impromptu footwear shopping. Do you know what I ended up buying the comfiest pair of pumps ever for £7 (God Bless Peacocks!) but this meant I was now ready for the challenge. There are a few ways to reach the top of the Orme – there are Cable Cars, buses, and a tram. We decided to walk. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem because as unfit as I am I can still walk for miles without any strain on me. However, this is a very steep hill (some might say [exaggerate] mountain) to climb. I was a quarter of the way up before we had to stop while I had my first heart attack. Not even halfway up when my 2nd heart attack came – though on this breathing break we were treated to a woman trying and failing to drive up the hill which caused much wheezy laughter from me. We carried on and reached the halfway point over looking the dry ski slope when I had yet another heart attack, before I was forced to carry on again. About 2/3 of the way up I needed another break as my lungs had now also ganged up on me. I was ready to give up when a family of 2 adults and 2 small children started STROLLING up the hill like it was a flat walk – I was forced to carry on. Every slope we got over I was assured we were right near the top – 5 times we crossed an horizon only to see another one up ahead.

To cut a long story short 6 heart attacks later we reached the top. What did we do while we were up there? Fuck all – had a drink, took some photos and then when I had my body back under control we headed down. Guess what – we took the tram! I thoroughly enjoyed this. Not least because there was a woman who looked the spitting image of Tubbs from The League Of Gentlemen on the tram with us.

Anyway we reached the bottom, and that meant one thing – fish & chips time! We went to a chippy that I was last in maybe 16 years ago and it was still exactly the same. It must have been a popular chippy because it was full of people…..wait a minute did I say people? I actually meant flies! But fuck it we were both starving & I had ordered the food so we took it anyway. Do you know what it tasted bloody gorgeous! We went to the beach to eat it, and apart from me threatening to punch a seagull in the face it was a bloody lovely meal.

It was nearing the end of the day & I had one ambition left! To write a rude word in stones on the beach. We set off back to the car and once we got there we set off to graffiti the ground [Note: to Dame Wincey you do not want to read this bit I promise you - look away now]. The graffiti started with a good laugh anyway as Roz fell over – me being the sympathetic man I am I of course did what any man would do. I pointed and laughed at her! Anyway she was ok so we collected our stones. I needed a word that described me – it was my day after all. I pondered it for about 30 seconds and I had it…….



I was strangely proud of my work…..for almost a minute until we saw a couple walking towards the desecrated ground. What did we do you might ask? What do you think? We ran away laughing leaving our new addition to Llandudno’s tourist attraction in tact for future generations to see!

So what about the aftermath of this brilliant day in Llandudno? Well the main thing was that I had sore Bnees for days (for those who don’t know what #Bnees are you need to look HERE) – but it was a great day –if you want to see some of the pictures of the day I suggest you look on my Facebook Page where there are a few pics of the day.

But for now I shall say Ffarwel

@Gazabell

Britain's Got (Fixed) Talent

You might have seen THIS LINK on Twitter today about Ronan Parkes being a fix winner of this year’s Britain’s Got Talent, but I am here to tell you that things are not quite as they seem. You see you may not know this but I work for SYCO which makes Britain’s Got Talent and I have the REAL inside story on what is happening. You see I am Simon Cowell’s hairdresser – I maintain his fine locks by quickly setting his hair on fire and then putting it back out with a wet Tea Towel before any major damage is done – thus giving him his stubby burnt paintbrush look.

Anyways back to the real story. Ronan Parkes is just a decoy so that people think he is an obvious winner. The truth is that Cowell has somebody much more talented in mind for the coveted winners spot. That person is of course Jean Martyn






The production team first came across Jean in 2008 when she was a small black man called Trevor. Trevor was at the birthday party of Timmy Mallet, and had a novelty act of some repute. The producers were so impressed that they signed him up to a lifetime contract with SYCO right away and invited Trevor to come to the 2009 auditions, when, unlike other contestants, they got Louis Walsh to pay him on the bus.

The time came for Trevor to perform his act as a Chinchilla juggling rapper. However, he was very nervous and accidently stood on one of the chinchillas before the audition, so Cowell, seeing the potential, took Trevor backstage and allowed him to perform privately in his dressing room, with his mother there to support him. Cowell could see the potential but thought that chinchilla juggling rappers were ten a penny and wanted something different for what he saw as a potential future megastar who could break the notoriously difficult over 50’s market.

He immediately set a team to work to change Trevor into the star he knew he could be. Unbeknownst to even his own mother, the team changed Trevor into a white middle aged woman called Jean Martyn. As 2010 rolled along they encouraged Jean to work on a new act that would wow the audience and so in Cardiff in 2010 the Judges and audience were to see the new Jean for the first time. Jean was incredibly nervous doing her new act, which was Pole Dancing whilst singing Yellow Submarine, and as a result she performed her fanny whirler finale too early causing the pole to buckle and send her crashing to the floor.

This was a disaster so Cowell once again stepped in. The audition was wiped from the records and he sent a new team in to work with Jean before the menopause hit, which would put her career on hold. He told the team that they had to have Jean ready for 2011 or else! A team of piano teachers, elocution teachers, and sparkly jacket makers were set to work to make Jean ready for 2011.

Then, the most disgusting part for me, somebody in a production meeting suggested that rather than hide Jean’s naturally bubbly personality they should highlight the more “mental” aspects of it. After all there had never been a mental middle-aged woman on TV before and the company could make millions from it! Jean was restyled completely from top to bottom. She was encouraged to giggle like a donkey given ecstasy. She was told to wear sparkly Joan Collins style jackets, wink indiscriminately and give the occasional thumbs up to anyone in her eyeline.

She was prepared and at the 2011 auditions Jean was unveiled, as the Les Dawson stylee, piano bashing gurning simpleton that Cowell knew the British public would fall in love with. The judges were ordered to give a standing ovation, and David Hasslehoff was even ordered to have his penis poking out of his zip in a “love salute” to Jean!

Then the SYCO publicity machine went into overdrive and immediately a Facebook fanpage, and even an Xtube page was set up for Jean, all managed directly by SYCO in case Jean put anything they didn’t want on the page. This was not done for any other act apart from Ronan Parkes (The decoy). Again Jean was given special treatment; she was given a £20 Argos gift voucher and a 20% discount card at Spud-U-Like. This is terrible as at some point Jean will have to pay all this back out her winnings. She doesn’t know as she sits there every day gorging herself on Tuna & Sweetcorn Jacket potato at reduced price that she is getting herself deeper and deeper into debt with SYCO!

And this Saturday when the final happens and Jean inevitably wins it she doesn’t realise what the future will hold. She will be expected to perform at Bingo Halls up and down the country, and if she is tired it won’t matter. Some lowlife will be there to pop another Sanatogen in her Ovaltine and let her freebase some cod liver oil to inject between her toes.

It is a slippery slope and all because she wanted to appear on TV. Once she hits that menopause in a couple of years time she will be discarded and left to fend for herself. Will she make a comeback? Probably not, though maybe she can appear on Celebrity Coach Trip. Who knows?

Thank you for letting me get this message out there. It needed to be done!

Not so Anon
SYCO