Tuesday 29 October 2013


As a motorcyclist and an amateur sound engineer I'm forever putting earplugs in and out. There's a certain technique to opening up the ear canal with one hand and pushing the plug in with the other. I was at a very loud gig with a woman, and it turns out that it's very difficult to give someone earplug instructions without it sounding dirty.

Reach round from behind with your other hand. Now give it a pull so that the hole opens up. Now just slip it straight in. Further than that. Don't go so far that it hurts, but you need to push it in as far as you can. I've got lubricant if it's difficult.

Richard "audiologist" B

Monday 21 October 2013


This week I had to make a couple of difficult decisions quickly. I was doing sound engineering work for a couple of bands and some drunken cock tipped a full pint of beer onto the table where I had my mixing desk. With very little hesitation I sacrificed my cardigan (rock and roll, baby) to mop up the beer, clear the table, and save the desk. The next two things getting wet were my friend’s ipod and a small flight case containing nearly £500 worth of microphones. I’d like to say that I saved the ipod first because it had been entrusted to me, or because the smooth running of the show relied on it. In truth I think it was just the first thing I saw.

I’m glad to say that I was joined behind the sound desk by the bouncy ex-trampolinist whom I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. As it was nominally our third date I thought I should own up and tell her about this blog. I’m even gladder to say that she had already found it, and thought it was very funny. She wasn’t offended at all by this article and nearly cried because she was laughing so hard.

Richard “ruined cardigan” B

Tuesday 15 October 2013

Sci Fi Club

On a Wednesday night one of my friends will visit, we eat together and watch sci-fi (sometimes we branch out into zombie-apocalypse-drama or borderline-pornographic-vampire-drama). This has been happening regularly for many years. He has satellite television and I do not, so he will bring programmes to my house on VHS video tape.

Nearly 30 years ago I first saw “The Terminator” on Betamax video in one of my school friends’ living room and I have liked sci-fi ever since. The chap with satellite tv has started bringing digital copies to sci-fi-club so we have retired my hard-working video recorder. In the same week that we stopped using my video I happened to bump into the younger brother of the school friend who showed me “The Terminator” all those years ago. I thought it was an amazing co-incidence, he didn’t seem at all interested to hear about the demise of my video.

Richard “slant azimuth recording” B

Monday 7 October 2013


This weekend I went to a birthday party, it was the first outing of my new acoustic band, we were so-so. It was also the first outing of my new homebuilt cocktail drumkit. If you don’t know what a cocktail drumkit is (and you’re not expected to) it’s very minimalist and you stand up to play it. It’s like a cross between an anorexic drumkit and a lecturn.

I was present for the birth – and almost certainly the nascent death of a new genre of music. One of the musicians at the party is a world class drummer, he just graduated with a first in music and his final year performance was live drum-n-bass. At the end of the party, after the music had finished and the lights came on he started playing some of his drum-n-bass beats on the cocktail kit. I drunkenly picked up a guiro and tapped and scraped along (mostly) in time. If you don't know what a guiro is it's hollow and ridged and you play with a thin stick, it's like a cross between a bedpan and a washboard. After jamming for about 5 minutes we turned around to see that there were two blokes dancing along to live cocktail-drum-n-guiro.

Richard “date tonight” B

Tuesday 1 October 2013


This weekend I went to a wedding reception and I made a joke that I’m very proud of. My friend asked his wife “Are you laughing at me?” and I said “Worst Taxi Driver impression ever”.

I also got talking to a very nice single girl and took her phone number. She drunkenly, and very directly asked me whether I was single, whether I was gay, whether I’d been married, whether I had kids, and whether I wanted children (yes; no I just like these cigarettes; no; no; and it would depend on the woman). After that barrage I could have asked her anything, I asked if she sang or played an instrument. Looking back it’s a rubbish question, it makes me sound shallow and like I’m only interested in one thing. At least I didn’t ask the question that was actually playing on my mind. “You can’t really have been a trampolinist with those big boobs can you?”

Richard “biological clock” B