Soldiers Base Jump for the Poppy
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Jacko Interviews
I’m not a crazy guy. “What do you mean, you’re not crazy, Jacko?” you cry. Yeah, it’s surprising. After all, I studied science at university; I spend my evenings in front of a computer, writing fictional tales about vampires and benefit-fraud; and I was Great Yarmouth’s finest table tennis player, U15 category, in the year of 1995.
Those things may sound like off-the-wall shenanigans to you, but seriously, I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy. I’m from Norfolk and we don’t like crazy stuff (marrying sisters isn’t crazy, it’s legal). We like a nice quite life, and we believe that B.A.S.E. Jumping is something that can only be enjoyed by the clinically insane (incidentally, these people are not insane; they are possessed by demons, demons possibly from Suffolk).
For those who don’t know what B.A.S.E. jumping is, have a read of this…Go Go Wikipedia
For those who can’t read (my Norfolk brethren)…
I’ll take them at table tennis.
Damn impressive, huh? The lads in the video are part of the Jump4Heroes team and Major Alastair Macartney, Warrant Officer Class One Spencer Hogg and Corporal Deane Smith went on to jump off the bloody Eiger (it’s in the vid, actually). Clint Eastwood could only perform a sanction on the Eiger, these boys jumped off it!
Jump4Heroes aren’t happy at simply jumping off a ridiculously dangerous rock. No, they’ve got something bigger planned. Ruth Powell is the PR consultant behind the boys. She used to work for Apple Computers, but now she’s a marketing pro who uses all her skills, creativity, expertise and a li’l’ bit of magic and love for a successful, high profile fund-raising campaign for UK charity, Help for Heroes which supports the wounded in current conflicts. So far, she’s helped raise over a million quid! She volunteers for all this. She’s a bloody good egg. She took time to tell me what these guys have got planned next.
Ruth, great to have you here. Jump4Heroes, are they just a group of mentalists? Can you tell us a bit about them?
I help out on a number of fundraising projects behind Help for Heroes and Jump4Heroes is one of them. They kinda kidnapped me (not in a bad way) and I’ve been involved with some of their daredevil, high visibility activities which raise publicity and awareness for the service charities.
What sort of things have they done?
Well you’ve posted the video of their Norway training and their Eiger jump. They come up with some awesome ideas such as sky diving in a red poppy formation over Tower Bridge for Poppy Day, and calmly stepping off the top of a pod of the London Eye. They’re dedicated professionals, and serving officers too, so every trip is leave. Alastair looks after the other two, who we call the ‘kids.’ Smudge (Dean) is a Para commando and defuses the IEDs [Improvised Explosive Device, or bombs for us civvies] in Afghanistan. I can’t imagine the nerves of steel you’d need for a job that dangerous but he doesn’t tell me much, he just comes back and gets jumping. Spence is also a top army Nordic skier. He jumped freefall and took their this fantastic picture.
I think they’re more than brave. Their military discipline makes sure they do things absolutely accurately. They’re the ultimate professionals. ‘Adrenaline junkies’ I think young people of today call them.
Yes, we do.
They’re determined to get me doing something called a tandem.
Oh aye….
Pack it in! I jumped out of a perfectly good plane in Hereford once. A SAS man trained me and shouted VERY LOUDLY and quite rudely for me to get out of the open door so Alistair reckons Ive got it in me but need the real experts to tandem. You’re welcome to join us, Jacko?
I’d love to Ruth, but, unfortunately, a freak table tennis accident in my younger days means that won’t be happening, nor will regular intercourse. Tough leagues, back then, man. Tough leagues.
Chicken.
Moving on. What have they got planned next? Eiger not big enough?
No it’s not! The boys want a world record. They want to take part in something that can only be called the marathon of B.A.S.E. jumps. Alastair and Smudge will take part in the record attempt, jumping off the Menara Kuala Lumpur Tower in Malaysia during 28-29 October 2009 (starting about midnight, UK time). It’s the fifth highest communications tower in the World.
Whoa! The jump will be a cakewalk compared to surviving an attack from that giant nerd and his merciless use of Star Trek facts.
Erm…try this one, my dear:
Oh, right. Look at the size of that thing!
The daredevil B.A.S.E. jumpers will leap from 915 feet, with up to 6 seconds in freefall before opening their parachutes and floating down to delicately land in front of the crowds of spectators.
That’s mighty impressive. So what makes this a world record?
The lads will form part of a team of 24 people, each who, over 24 hours, will jump each hour, every hour. They’ll be jumping with the Royal British Legion flag (poppy) and, as this is a world record attempt, it will definitely get lots of publicity.
And damned right it should. That is an amazing feat of endurance. This isn’t the sort of thing people usually do for charity events, is it? Couldn’t they have sat in a bath of beans for a medium-to-long period of time?
These guys don’t make things easy for themselves. They are serving soldiers who are paying tribute and respect to those out there, those fallen and those wounded. Remember
How can people donate money to Help the Heroes and Jump for Heroes?
They can find out more from the websites: http://www.helpforheroes.org.uk/ and http://www.jump4heroes.com/ There are links there to all the other activities that are going on and also links for donating money to these fantastic causes.
There you have it folks, and to finish…here’s a salute to the greatest B.A.S.E Jumper in history.
He’s never sat in a bath of beans, either.
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Tags: Alastair Macartney, B.A.S.E., bath of beans, charity, Clint Eastwood, Deane Smith, Help4Heroes, Interview, jump, Jump4Heroes, jumping, Kuala Lumpar, London eye, Malaysia, mark jackman, Menara Kuala Lumpur Tower, nerd, parachute, poppy, rememberance, Roger Moore, Royal British Legion, Ruth Powell, Spencer Hogg, star trek, The Eiger Sanction, The Spy Who Loved Me
Lookalikes! Porn Star, Ron Jeremy, and Supernanny, Jo Frost!
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Lookalikees, ManChat
This is a really short blog to tell you that I think that Ron Jeremy, famous, now fat and old, porn star, looks like Britain’s favourite TV Supernanny, Jo Frost. If you don’t believe me:
To quote the missus. “Seeeeee. I told you so.”
Anyone who doesn’t agree! BRING IT ON!
Jacko
p.s. Anyone got any good lookalikes that other people can’t see?
* * * *
This is a couple of weeks after I posted the original blog, but an artist mate of mine, Jeremy Lewis-Cope, has just sent me a pic proving the point. It’s bloody brilliant.
Can’t stop laughing at it!
Tags: 9.5 inches, great yarmouth, jeremy lewis cope, Jo Frost, lookalike, Loughborough, mark jackman, Ron Jeremy, Supernanny, York
You call it “Marriage” but I call it “Slasher Horror Killfest”
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Chewing of Fat
I’ve been watching horror films ever since I was a kid. I used to love mindless slasher flicks. You know the ones. A beautiful group of late-teens embark on an adventure of fun and frivolity. They laugh, they cry, they screw, before they are massacred by a really angry man, one-by-one, until the pretty one remains, who manages to kill the sociopath in a disappointing and unrealistic manner before he opens his eyes dramatically after the credits.
Yeah, that’s the one.
My love for these horror flicks is waning. Maybe it’s because every year I transcend further into a age group that can’t relate to teenagers who seem to wander into increasingly dangerous and torturous situations, just wearing sexy underwear. Maybe it’s those new skin-tight boxer shorts that all the hunks are wearing these days that are pushing me away. I gave them a go, but they just aren’t practical. White and skin-tight is a combination that can only cause distress to womenfolk.
This man will only find trouble, come wash day.
However, I do remember a time when I used to run free, embarking on adventures of fun and frivolity with my teenage friends. It must be said, that we never had the money that most youngsters seem to have in the Hollywood blockbusters, so our adventures consisted of getting smashed down the park on cheap cider and hoping someone had left a few pages of a dirty magazine in a hedge somewhere. Also, my buddies and I probably couldn’t stand up to the Beverly Hills’ hearthrobs that seem to conregate in groups like suicidal lemmings, who, instead of throwing themselves off cliffs, throw themselves into dark caves, cellars, torture chambers, etc, etc. Nope, me and my mates have been beaten so hard with the ‘ugly stick’ that it broke and forced God to go back to his workshop to forge himself something so brutal, that it has caused females of all species to run at the mere mention of our names. Luckily for us, he also invented Malibu and coke.
In retrospect, I don’t think I was ever in a position to relate to the kids in the slasher flicks, but still, as youngsters, we had fun. And, somehow, with our neanderthal looks, our socially retarded mannerisms, our poor personal hygiene and our not so whiter-than-white boxer shorts, we all managed to find ourselves lady friends. Real ones, too.
So why have I given this blog the title of “”Marriage” or “Slasher Horror Killfest”?” and gone on a rant about my inability to wear hunk underwear (or hunkawear)? Well, I once considered marriage to be like a horror film. When I was younger, I sat back whilst, slowly, my friends were picked off, one by one…until I feared that only I’d remain.
“I’m off on holiday, lads,” said Danny.
“Yes!” said I, “Where’re we going? Boys’ weekend in Prague would be class.”
I knew something was amiss as Danny awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m going to Paris with Sophie.”
“What?” say I, with the venom of ten thousand vipers.
“Weekend away. You know…with the missus?”
“I don’t bloody know, at all. Anyway, you can’t go. We play snooker on Fridays,” say I, cheated, neglected, wronged.
“I’m going to propose.”
“ “ say I.
“Sorry?” said Danny, confused as to why George Lucas had destroyed the very essence of the greatest fictional villain in history.
“You bloody will be. You can’t get married. You’ll be first, then Gary, then George,” say I, in desperation. ”Then it’ll just be me and Terry, and that means I’ll be in for it next because Terry is never going to get a woman, unless he gets back with Three-Tits-Tracey, which is unlikely ‘ cos now she is shacked up with that bloke who used to wheel out the star prize on Bullseye.”
“I’ve got no idea what you are talking about?”
“DON’T LEAVE ME!”
Things change…
That was the young me. I’ve grown older and wiser. Do you know what? I’ve matured (hahahaha-no I haven’t-I still laugh when anyone says “come”).
This year, I’ve been on five stag dos and I’ve attended four weddings. I’ve been all across Europe. I’ve travelled from Lisbon to Latvia and from the Pyrenees to mighty Great Yarmouth. Through this, I have had my savings ripped from me, which means that I have never been further from the dizzying heights of billionairedom, as mentioned in my last blog: ”If I Were a Rich Man.” I wouldn’t have it any other way. The chance to spend the last days of freedom with my mates and then celebrate their marriage to some absolute sweethearts (not to mention, absolute stunners) is something that i wouldn’t swap for the world.
There were the stag dos…
I’ve partied with Oompa Loompas, WWE wrestlers, transvestite school girls, Latvian hookers (in McDonalds), inbred villagers from Norfolk, several blow-up dolls, lifetime friends and new drinking companions, alike. I’ve drunk cider, bitter, lager, vodka, whisky, jagermeister, brandy, red wine, rose wine, white wine, champagne and something that had a bull on it. I’ve been ill. I’ve been very ill. I’ve had fun. I’ve had a lot of fun.
Then there were the weddings…
Four beautiful princesses and four dashing princes declaring their love for each other before throwing a massive party with their friends and family. It’s been so much fun and I have been honoured to be there and to be part of their special days. This blog is dedicated to all of my friends whose weddings/stags I’ve been to. I love you all immensely.
As a man grows older, he realises that he can’t continue the life of a lone wolf, a lone stallion, or even a lone tapeworm. Men are bad for each other. Real bad. Stag dos are testament to that. When we are left together we spend hundreds of pounds a day on alcohol and dancing girls; we stop eating actual food; we start to smell and are convinced that a quick spray of deodorant masks our putrid pheromones, whilst emitting the ones which will make dancing girls love us, and not just the money we are waving at them; we become even more arrogant and ignorant because there is no one to tell us that we are twats; we swear more; we balloon in weight; we flirt with girls nearly half and over twice our ages; we don’t change our jeans for months; we convince ourselves that Xbox is a sport; we subscribe to the Playboy Channel; we turn to shit.
Without women that is what we become.* Maybe you disagree. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter.
“When is it your turn, Jacko?” you ask. I know you do. I’ve been with my beautiful lady for over six years and I must have been asked that question hundreds of times this year.
All I’ll say is that I’ll probably get married before that guy. Poor bastard.
* Disclaimer: We also turn into this after five years of marriage, and then we assume that it is the woman who has let herself go. This is genetic. Do not mess with Mother Nature.
Tags: Bernard Manning, boxer shorts, Bullseye, Darth Vader, heart throb, horror film, i know what you did last summer, mark jackman, Marriage, Nnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooo, proposal, Pyrenees, skidmarks, slasher, Star Wars, three-tits-tracey, wedding day
