Marius Pudzianovski has Polish Power, but Vic Parker has Pensioner Power
Posted by Jacko | Filed under ManChat
And not pensioner power as in a large voting contingent.
The Great Right Hope has become synonymous with sporting greatness. Sponsorship of the local darts team, the Albion Arras, ensured they powered through to win the league in their debut season, even though most of the players didn’t like the darts flights I gave them, they didn’t wear the t-shirts, and I didn’t turn up on the final night’s fixture because I had to buy them each a beer, it was sponsorship, nonetheless.
So, after that debacle, The Great Right Hope is proud to sponsor Vic Parker, a veteran powerlifter hailing from Rothley, Leicestershire. Admittedly, sponsorship only involved giving him a lift to a tournament in Birmingham, where I ate most of his packed lunch, but it’s sponsorship, of sorts.
Anyway,
Sunday 11th Feb saw Vic return to competitive powerlifting, after a thirteen year break. He competed in the West Midlands championships, which took place in Hatchford Brook Youth Centre in Solihull. Vic was lifting in the Masters IV class. I said that Vic was a veteran, and that he is. He turns 70 this year.
I met Vic for the first time about five years ago in Charnwood Leisure Centre (a gym in Loughborough). Yes, unfortunately, I need to regularly work on my hunkiness with the use of iron. Maniron to be precise (which is a word). I was performing the deadlift when an elderly gentleman, limped over and asked if he could join in. This wasn’t a problem, but what was interesting was that there was over three hundred pounds on the bar. Five reps later my jaw was on the floor. “Oh this is nothing,” he said when the groups of spectators failed to comment because they’d all been knocked for six. “I did 250 kilos once.”
Looks can be deceiving. Vic has been weightlifting for fifty years. He started off bodybuilding, inspired by the impressively chiselled Steve Reeves, but he soon realised he didn’t have the genetics for mounds of rippling muscle. At the time, Vic was part of the Charnwood Entertainers, a group of strongmen who performed at village fetes around Leicestershire. One of his feats of strength was breaking six inch nails with his bare hands. Vic realised he was blessed with natural strength, so decided to give powerlifting a try.
Powerlifting consists of three events, as demonstrated by Vic, himself:
1) The squat: A barbell is held on the shoulders, and the competitor must bend at the knees until their hips are below the tops of their knees before returning to the standing position.
2) The bench press: The competitor lies on their back holding a barbell above them. They lower the bar until it touches the chest, pause for a second before lifting it until the arms are straight.
3) The deadlift: A competitor lifts a barbell from the floor until they stand up straight, without pausing.
Vic performed his best lifts in his mid-forties where he reached a total of 550 kg (Squat: 192.5 Kg, Bench: 117.5 Kg, Deadlift: 240 Kg), and he only weighed 82.5 Kg. And if that wasn’t enough, he also ran the Leicester Marathon in three consecutive years around the time, too.
Vic competed in the British Championships when he was in his fifties, and continued to lift until he reached 60 when, during training, he managed to successfully rip the tendon attaching his quadriceps to the bone, clean off. Ouch. Still, the man got better and continued to train right up until he was 63 when he ripped the tendon off the other leg. Double ouch. Most people in their early sixties would’ve given up the ghost, but not Vic Parker. He came back, and that’s when I met him, outdoing men forty years his junior by the squat rack.
Not sure if you picked up on it, but I mentioned that when I first met Vic he limped over to our group. You see, at the time, he was suffering from a pain in his hip, not that it stopped him lifting. Over the next couple of years, Vic’s hip deteriorated and he was diagnosed with arthritis.
An operation was the only choice, but the type of operation was debatable. There was the usual hip replacement, which is the standard “tick-box” procedure carried out by the NHS, but there was also a newer procedure which was being perfored, a hip resurfacement. The resurfacement is a lot less intrusive, and this was Vic’s preference as he had his sights set at one day returning to compete in the British Masters.
What’s a hip resurfacement? Come, my friends, learn-
Unfortunately, because Vic was sixty-five, he was told that he was not eligible for the resurfacement operation as his bones would not be strong enough. He was told this by the NHS, and that was that. If he didn’t take the hip replacement, and, most-likely, end his lifting career, he’d have to seek private treatment. Vic did just that. In the end, he paid a considerable sum of money to have the resurfacement operation, and was told, on waking, that they had a hard job to do the operation due to the high density of his bones. It is such a shame that he had to pay for the op and couldn’t have it done on the NHS, after paying taxes for fifty years, working as a carpenter. The man made a staggeringly quick recovery, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise, and was back in the gym within a couple of months, and shifting big numbers too.
So, to Sunday. Vic was entering the competition as he needed to qualify for the British Masters, which takes place in April. It was a great day, with some remarkably strong people lifting some remarkably big weights. It was painful to watch some of the Oxford University Powerlifting Team lift at the tournament. They were considerably younger than me, considerably stronger than me, considerably smarter than me, with futures considerably brighter than mine. I tried to run a couple over in my car when they left the building, but, alas, they were considerably quicker than me and my clapped out Escort, too. Just joking (well, only about the attempted GBH bit, the rest is true). They were a great bunch of lads, who did themselves and their university proud.
Back to Vic. Funnily enough, he was the only person competing in the over 70s class.
140 Kg squat. Easy.
Vic needed to lift a total (any total) in order to be eligible for the British Masters in April, but Vic, being Vic, didn’t go easy on himself. He racked up an impressive 410 Kg total (a North Midlands record) at the same bodyweight he lifted at thirteen years ago (82.5 Kg). Yep, if you thought the photos looked a bit old, it’s because Vic is wearing the same lifting suit as thirteen years ago, and I bet it’s a damnsight older than that. Incidentally we had to get him into the suit, which involved two strapping lads yanking him into it, which would have looked like some weird kind of pensioner abuse to the outsider.
Vic’s last lift of the day was his old favourite, the deadlift. He’s been having trouble with his hip, of late (the one without metal in it) and has been taking it easy in training. His first lift was a conservative 140 Kg, the second was 160 kg, before he announced “I’m going for a 180 Kg, but it’s gonna hurt.” Yeah, well lifting over 28 stone off the floor when you’re near 70 should do!
There’s 180 kg done and dusted, and yes, it did hurt. All going well, he’ll be all healed up and competing in the British Masters in April, and I’ll let you know how he gets on.
Vic is a shining example to everyone. This article is not simply about an old age pensioner performing remarkable feats of strengths, as that would not do the man justice. Besides, you can see from the pictures that he is in fantastic shape, and part of his longevity and strength are the product of great genetics. To me, what is truly inspirational is that this man has been training for fifty years, half a century. He has gone through three major operations on his joints in his sixties, and has gone on to compete at a high level. Nothing has stopped him. He has never made excuses and I don’t know anyone who has drive quite like him. Most people make excuses that they can’t exercise for 30 minutes, three times a week, because of what often comes down to nothing but laziness. If Vic’s story doesn’t inspire these people, then nothing will.
To finish, here are some videos of Vic’s lifts.
Squat:
Bench:
Deadlift:
If you have some supportive comments for Vic and his future endeavours, drop them below and I’ll let him know. He hasn’t got access to the internet as “I don’t do computers.”
Absolute legend.
Tags: bench press, British, champioships, charnwood, Charnwood Entertainers, charnwood leisure centre, deadlift, hip replacement, hip resurfacement, leicestershire, Marius Pudzianovski, North Midlands, Oxford, Polish Power, powerlifting, rothley, squat, the price of ham, university, Vic Parker, west midlands
COMPETITION TIME! Does Anything Get Better With Age?
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Chewing of Fat, Competition Time
This blog has nothing to do with me turning thirty in April. It has nothing to do with me feeling older, physically, as I’m in the shape of my life, due to a chubby childhood. Nor has it anything to do with a recent issue I had with Virgin Media, which resulted in me writing my first ever letter of complaint. No. The realisation that everything gets worse when you’re older dawned on me last night, when I watched Labyrinth.
Labyrinth is one of the finest films to have ever graced the silver screen. It truly is a magical tale. There’s action and adventure galore in a classic battle between good and evil, supplemented with Jim Henson’s spellbinding diversity of puppetry. Yes, indeed, Labyrinth is the greatest film in the world…
…when you’re six.
When you’re 29, however, Labyrinth is utter bollocks.
I want those ninety minutes back, I can tell you. It was awful. If you’re reading this and saying “Labyrinth is brilliant!” Then I bet you haven’t seen it since you were a kidda…or you are simply…simple. When you’re six, annoying things aren’t annoying. Jennifer Connelly, star of the Hulk and the fantastically original and entertaining Dark City, is hot. Very hot. As a sixteen-year-old actress playing with puppets she is an annoying twat.
The thing I didn’t notice as a six-year-old lad, and I’m glad to say I didn’t otherwise I’d have had a serious messed up childhood, is David Bowie’s cock. David Bowie’s cock is on screen for literally half the film. I don’t want to see David Bowie’s cock anymore. Oh, what the hell, just one more time…
The Thin White Duke’s thin white duke
It just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t full of wonder and magic, it was a bit stupid, a bit boring and a bit rubbish. Labyrinth hasn’t changed, but I have. I’ve got older and Labyrinth has not grown with me. That’s the reason for this blog. I started to wonder if there is anything that gets better with our aging? With every year, things seem to get more serious; time goes quicker; the good ol’ days and our glory years seem further out of reach; more offence is generated from David Bowie’s cock; hair grows in places it shouldn’t and disappears from places it should be; fat is stored more readily; celebrities get younger and less talented; people who you wish found you attractive don’t find you attractive; the price of ham sky rockets; you wear one of them slippers that encloses both feet; you vote; you…
I’ve said enough. I’ve depressed myself. I’m looking to you, the reader, for hope.
And, as an incentive for you to help me, I’m going to offer a signed copy of The Great Right Hope.
Please, just name something, anything that improves with old age and the best answer wins a book (paperback or ebook). Leave a comment below, or email me at jackhammer@mark-jackman.com with your answer. Closing date is 25th Feb (payday!)
Tags: Competition, Dark City, David Bowie, David Bowie's cock, Jennifer Connelly, Labyrinth, mark jackman, old age, The Hulk, The Thin White Duke, young
New Year, New Decade, New Jacko?
Posted by Jacko | Filed under ManChat
Hey guys. Haven’t been on here for a while as I’ve been away visiting family over Christmas, and since then I’ve been putting the final touches to the second volume of The Great Right Hope series, A Fistful of Rubbers, which is now with Zetta Brown, the editor for LL-Publications. Finally, it’s done with, and now I have time for some more blogging and let me start by saying Happy New Year.
Yes, folks, a new year and a new year decade. In April, I will say goodbye to my twenties, too, and say hello to my…erm…thirties, yes, that’s the one.
Shit.
I don’t want to really talk about that. Nope, I don’t want to talk about the future, it only brings old age, boredom, kids playing on your lawn and a life-changing increases in the price of ham, and possibly global warming and shit.
So, let’s look backwards, and let’s take a look at the decade we said goodbye to, the noughties. What happened in the noughties? We (England) lost at a lot of sporting events; terrorism reached sickening heights; Usain Bolt ran really, really fast; and the first ever film about bumming cowboys was released. I ain’t really much cop at history, and I can’t be bothered with researching owt, either, as that isn’t my style. To be honest, I can’t be arsed to talk about the past, as that’s in the past, and the future is the only thing that matters, right?
What I will say, is that on a particular supernatural day in the noughties I experienced, for the first and only time, what can only be classed as divination. Unfortunately, my foretelling wasn’t the kind that would ever bag me a lot of money, or any, for that matter. It would not put me in a position where I could make a difference to the world. My vision came to me when two girls danced and sang (technically questionable) their way on to my television screen. Those Transylvanian girls were cheeky little things, indeed, and they were indeed, The Cheeky Girls.
The cheeky girls hit our screens in 2002 when they auditioned for Popstars The Rivals, and from that came the song, The Cheeky Song (Touch My Bum), and even though in 2004, it was voted the worst pop record of all time in a Channel 4, it still got to number two in the UK charts. Number, f***ing two, can you believe that? This country. This f**ing country. To summarise, they’re mum writes their songs; in 2006 they filed for bankruptcy; and in 2007 they had tit jobs.
I was convinced my 2002 prediction would come true, and everything was building up to its ultimate fulfilment. Even up to the end of December 2009, I was convinced that I couldn’t be wrong. I told the world, my friends and loved ones, as a 22 year-old kid, that it was a guaranteed dead cert that one of the cheeky girls would become a porn star by the end of the decade.
And they didn’t!
So the title of this post was “A New Year, A New Decade, A New Jacko?” So is there going to be a new Jacko? Well, probably not; not unless I win the lottery, or someone gives me a multi-million quid book deal, but one thing I will say, is that I predict, that by the end of this decade, by midnight, December 31st 2019, one of the Cheeky Girls will be in porno, somewhere on the internet.
Mark my words.
Tags: A Fistful of Rubbers, divination, England, getting old, global warming and shit, Happy New Year, LL-Publications, mark jackman, Nostradamus, Popstars, porn, sport, The Cheeky Girls, The Great Right Hope, the price of ham, The Rivals, thirties, twenties, UK Charts, Usain Bolt, Zetta Brown
Lookalikee! Peter Andre and Antony Worrall Thompson…eh?
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Lookalikees
Another lookalikee sent in! This one is from an artist buddy of mine, Jeremy Lewis Cope, and was one that when he told me, I seriously couldn’t see. It was only when he morphed a picture, like he did for Supernanny and Ron Jeremy, that I saw how similar the two are. I don’t think that these pictures are something that Jed wants to be remembered for, but he’s bloody brilliant at them!
Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you Peter Andre and Antony Worral Thompson!
Brilliant, isn’t it? Fantastic lookalike! If you have any lookalikes, then drop me a mail at jackhammer@mark-jackman.com and I’ll stick ‘em on me blog.
Tags: antony worral thompson, jeremy lewis cope, jordan, lookalike, Lookalikees, morph, peter andre
Review: “Pit Stop” by Ben Larken
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Jacko's Reviews
I was hoping to have reviewed more books by now, but, alas, no. I’ve been caught up writing A Fistful of Rubbers. Now that is done, or at least, a draft has been handed into my publisher, I am free once more to roam, to play, and to frolic.
To begin my season of frolicking, I am going to review an award winner. Pit Stop is Ben Larken’s debut novel, and it won best horror in the Eppie Awards, 2009. The Eppies recognise outstanding achievement in the world of electronic publishing (Pit Stop is available both electronically and as a paperback), and to win one with your first novel is something special indeed. So, I am going to read it and I am going to review this “award winner.” And let me warn you, Ben Larken, I am one jealous bitch…
…who was very impressed, very entertained and ultimately enthralled by your work.
Pit Stop follows the journey of ten individuals…actually, no, first line in and already I’ve misguided you. Pit Stop is not about a journey, at all. It’s a story of waiting; ten people, waiting for their last voyage, a one-way ticket to Hell. Impressively, everyone is dead from page one. It’s good to start on a high.
Ten souls wait in purgatory, and they’re waiting, strangely, in a service station. The Pit Stop, on Route 66 in Arizona, is somewhere I really wouldn’t fancy a coffee. The trip to Hell is not a pleasant thought, and if I was to use my deepest and darkest grey matter to concoct an image of the being that would guide me to the only place worse than Great Yarmouth, I’d be thinking spikes, tentacles, mucus, blood and possibly a little faeces. Bearing in mind the horrible nature of Larken’s warped mind, I was expecting a monstrosity from the very bowels of Hell…oh yeah, that’s sort of obvious, as it technically is something from the bowels of Hell. Still, I was expecting something a little scarier than a bus. However, as I got to know the bus and its psychopathic, ultra-powerful driver, Ramsey, I hoped that the bus would stop being so damned nasty. The bus and its driver are desperate to take the ten occupants of the diner straight to Lucifer and Pit Stop is the tale of their bid for freedom.
Pit Stop is unquestionably horror. It is gruesome, vile and disturbing in its imagery and Larken makes sure the reader not just sees the horrific violence, they feel it too. On top of that, with a set of characters lined up to be royally buggered in Hell, you know you are going to be in the same company as some rather unsavoury beasts. Paedophiles, murderers and prostitutes are the order of the day, but we have some heroes to make this a wonderfully eclectic mix of the damned. Scott Alders and Dustin Calloway are the boys you’ll be rooting for. Dustin’s a bad man with a talent for avoiding any heat that’s coming down on him (death not included). However, his heart is questionably in the right place. Scott Alders is the interesting one. He’s a straight down the line cop who puts his job first. From the start, you’ll be wondering what Office Alders did to earn a trip to Hell, possibly my only point of contention in the story.
Is Pit Stop scary? Pit Stop is a slasher tale with a beautifully evil stalker, Ramsey, who is roguely charismatic for someone who doesn’t really say much, and whose main role is to maim, torment and torture. Personally, I don’t find slashers particularly scary, even though I love them, and I get my kicks from the inventiveness of the violence and my affinity to the characters. Pit Stop had me routing for Scott and Dustin who are wonderfully linked. The book also appealed to my carnal instincts and my desire for bloodlust was well and truly satisfied. I desperately wanted to see some of the characters torn into a thousand gory pieces and Mr. Larken gave the mob what they wanted. To answer my initial question, I didn’t find Pit Stop particularly scary, but that wasn’t in the slightest bit detrimental to my enjoyment of the book (incidentally, I’ve just picked up his latest book, The Hollows, and read the first chapter and that scared the bejesus out of me. I’m hooked already).
Is Pit Stop worth reading? Oh yes, undoubtedly so. It’s an exceptionally good read from start to finish and Ben Larken should be extremely proud of what he has achieved. If you read this, Ben, not many fictional bad guys have quite grabbed my attention as much as Ramsey, the bus driver, and if you ever base a book solely on him, I’ll camp outside the bookstore, the night before, to get hold of it.
Listen out for Ben Larken. I won’t be the least bit surprised if you hear the name in the future.
Pit Stop is available direct from the publisher, LL-Publications, and is also available from Amazon (UK and USA
Find out more about Ben Larken on his website.
Tags: Ben Larken, e-book, Epic, Eppie, horror, Jacko, Jacko: Author, LL-Publications, mark jackman, paperback, Pit Stop, Ramsey, review
