BE A DRUNK, BE A WINNER!
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Competition Time, The Great British Pub
Time for a competition, ladies and gents. This is your chance to win an autographed copy of ‘The Great Right Hope‘, published by LL-Publications and also available on Amazon.
This competition is based on the wickedness of alcohol. We all like a drink, from time to time, don’t we? Now and then, there’s nothing wrong with a couple over the recommended daily intake as preached to us by TV heart-throb, debonair superstud, Dr. Hilary Jones. Please enjoy the following tribute to the grandmother’s favourite, in the form of a small, shit collage.
Before continuing, however, I need to contradict my previous statement and warn you of the dangers of alcohol, as preached to us by TV heart-throb, debonair superstud, Dr. Hilary Jones.
That’s actually quite sad. He should be sporting a moustache indicitive of “Bad Hasslehoff.” Not nice at all.
This competition coincides with the release of the paperback version of my debut novel, The Great Right Hope. Other good news to prompt this generosity is that TGRH has turned into LL-Publications best-selling book of all time! Check out LL’s blog for details.
There is a lot of boozing in TGRH, possibly more than any other book in creation, with exception to Jimmy White’s biography. To show you how much boozing there is, here are some interesting book stats for you:
The word “beer” is used: 78 times.
The word “ale” is used: 141 times.
The word “drunk” is used 62 times.
…and the word “wine” is used 0 times. That’s right, ladies. This is a man’s book. Take your emotions and your voyages of discovery elsewhere. This is for rootin’-tootin’ bloody blokes, who like to kick back and chew the fat over subjects devoid of emotions, except rage. Saying that, this would make a wonderful gift for a husband, brother or father, and even though I just said that men are devoid of emotions, that was a lie, and they’d love you forever if you bought a copy of The Great Right Hope for them to cherish.
Back to the competition: Boozing has given me some of the funniest moments of my shortened life. I have had some great adventures with my friends, and we have seen some hilarious acts performed by equally drunken, but more idiotic people. It’s great to sit by the fireside and reminisce with friends about the time ”xyz” stole a midget’s bike; knocked themselves out by heading a frozen chicken; threw up on a girl they were snogging; needed a dump on a night out so squatted down in a field, pissed in their trousers by accident, and, in panic, slipped and landed in their own faeces; had a Xmas eve punch-up with two guys dressed as cartoon characters; had a shoe duel; drank four pots of chili sauce and a pot of garlic sauce; partaken in tramp bukakke.
Someone has put a great compilation video together on YouTube of drunken idiots. The potential drunk driver (innocent until proven guilty) at the end makes me laugh every time I see it!
So how do you win the prize? Well it is quite simple, my friend. I want to hear your drunken stories. The funniest drunken story will win anautographed copy of The Great Right Hope! Closing date is at the end of the month (Aug ‘09). Either pop your story at the bottom of the comments, or drop me an email at jackhammer@mark-jackman.com. I’ll publish the winning entry as a separate blog, next month. Please no names, and if you just want to comment with some drunken banter then it’s all the same to me!
So come on guys and gals, let’s hear of some drunken adventures!
Good luck!
Jacko
www.mark-jackman.com
p.s. I don’t anyone who has partaken in tramp bukakke.
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Tags: bender, Competition, Competition Time, drunk, heart-throb superstud, idiot, Jimmy White, mark jackman, Pub, Real ale, The Great Right Hope, tramp bukakke, vomit
TRAINHOP
Posted by Jacko | Filed under ManChat, The Great British Pub
I’ve been asked a lot recently, “What is Trainhop?” and it is time for me to explain.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO TRAINHOP!
Trainhop is a very simple concept: Biannually, once in summer, once in winter, a group of men (only men!) turn up at a chosen station, on a chosen day, at 11A.M. They then travel on a random train to a distance no more than one hour away, with a tariff no greater than ten English Pounds. Whilst on the train the “Trainhoppers” or “Hoppers,” as they are known, enjoy a swift libation before embarking on a fourteen-hour killer bender in the chosen town, which usually ends up with 25 % of the group having a “dodgy pint” and, through no fault of their own, they vomit in public.
Trainhop is a magical event and there are a certain number of traditions that accompany the fun and frolics. Every Trainhop has a special drink. In summer this is a “Hoptail,” a light and fruity number designed to refresh the Hopper on a warm summer’s day. In winter, a “Winter Warmer” is the order of the day, designed to protect the Hopper against the cold winter air.
Unfortunately, no Trainhopper has ever attended bar-tender school, most have not attended school, for that matter. However, creativity is rife within the group and this often leads to something quite hideous, that usually curdles, and which led to the earliest Trainhop vomit, 11.45 A.M.
Above is this summer’s hoptail, “Stawberries and Cream,” a combination of Aldi imitation Balileys, 40% strawberry vodka, and a strawberry. It curdled and looked like a fish that had been tortured in a blender. It didn’t taste much better. The worst ever was “Alcoholic Cuppasoup.” That consisted of: hot water, two scoops of budget instant soup mix, one large slug of vodka and three croutons. Bad days, people.
The hop drink is always accompanied by train beers, and then it is tradition that we visit the first pub in the town. It’s only early, and sometimes Hoppers do not get the warmest of receptions.
Because we are not always sure how far we are going to travel on the train, we usually have a surplus of beers which looks like a hamper for tramps, hence: “The Tramper.” We then find our first warrior of the road and give them tins and tins of warm cheap beer and any remaining trainhop drink. The alcoholic cuppasoup saved lives.
Noticed the hunk in the tweed? Yes, course you did. That’s me. Notice the little Tweed number, I’m wearing? Yes, course you did. The last Trainhop was Trainhop 10, and that is a very special number. There is a ranking system in Trainhop, and after a Hopper’s third Hop, they earn their sergeant stripes and are entitled to vote on Hop business, and are also rewarded with a medallion. On the tenth, a Hopper is knighted and loses all say in Hop business, thus allowing new blood to come through the ranks, and take the Hop to the next level. Myself and Lee Mallard earned blazers for our service. Lee had a snazzy little red number, whilst I got the tweed, which looked shit, so I am going to get a new one. True story.
So, in a witty nutshell, that’s Trainhop, and we drink until we get the last train back home, drink on the train, and then drink when we get home. For the tenth, and with my retirement from official business, we had something a little special and organised some ad hoc team games, captained by Lee and myself. It is quite surreal to watch a “Shoe Duel” at 12.30 in the afternoon.
Wheel barrow races to pubs are more conventional, but fun, nonetheless.
Something that never helps with the vomiting is team-eating events. I haven’t got a picture of the ice-cream eating contest that took place in Nuneaton market place, that actually drew a crowd, but I watched a man eat a two quid ice-cream in 41.3 seconds. That has to be some sort of record after eight pints of lager.
We even had a “Hunk-Off” where each team had ten pounds to dress their chosen hunk, and then ladies picked their favourite superstud. See the red-hot Nuneaton sluts at the bottom of the picture? They liked the stud with the beard. Who wouldn’t?
That said, in 10 hops, which roughly equates to 1800 man-hours, no-one has ever pulled a girl, or obtained a number. With that many red-blooded sex-stallions, ten pints into a session, it is really difficult to fathom out why. Frigid women is the only answer.
Trainhops are pretty crazy, but they do provide good boosters to local pubs, as we try to frequent good old-fashioned locals, and fifty pints sold in an hour really do bump up the pub’s profits. OK, sometimes things get a little out of hand, and there are always a few casualties, and a few pub toilets devastated, but that’s par for the course.
Trainhops builds relationships, man-time, cameraderie, beer-tolerance, and body mass indicies. It is a time to forget the woes of the world and explore new places, meet new people, experience different cultures (Stoke-on-Trent), taste different ales and throw up a little. I’m passing on the baton, but I believe that the spirit of trainhop will be around as long as there are trains, or until boozing and drunks are banned from them (possibly from a Trainhop related incident). I would love to see Trainhops starting from other towns, so that mass trainhops can take place on the same day.
If you are reading this, and you would like to get involved in the franchise, drop me a mail and I’ll put you on to the new organiser. If you fancy starting your own Trainhop, drop us a line, too. You can’t lose, because when all is said and done, and when all shoes have been thrown, it’s just an all-dayer. But what an all-dayer!
I’d like to say a big thank you to everyone who has ever made an event. I’d also like to thank Wellingborough, Newark and Lincoln, Chesterfield, Stamford, Birmingham, Kettering, Stoke, Melton Mowbray, Uttoxeter and Nuneaton for their hospitality.
The road goes ever on and on, and now I can only watch as Trainhop 11 wakes to a new world, with a new organiser.
THE KING IS DEAD!
LONG LIVE THE MAGGOT!
Feel free to add to any Trainhop stories to the bottom of the comments.
Tags: Birmingham, Caravan of Love, Chesterfield, hoptail, Kettering, Lincoln, Loughborough, Melton Mowbray, minge, Newark, Nuneaton, Real ale, Stamford, Stoke-On-Trent, Trainhop, Uttoxeter, vomit, Wellingborough, winter warmer
Competition Time! Ladies and Gentlemen, LET’S PLAY DDDDAAAARRTTTSSSSSS
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Albion Arras, Competition Time, ManChat, The Great British Pub
I am very conscious of the fact that my last two posts have had elongated words in the title, but come on guys, this is darts, or DAAARRTTTTS we are talking about, here.
In last week’s post, I told you all that I will be saving the British pub, and I am a man of my word. I told you about a local dart’s team, and how The Great Right Hope is planning to sponsor them, all true, I shit you not.
Look, it’s all here: http://mark-jackman.com/blog/2009/04/29/iiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-one/
Therefore, www.mark-jackman.com and www.ll-publications proudly present….
THE ALBION ARRAS
From left to right: Doylie, Matt, Jimmy, Al, Keith (Landlord), Big Ron and Graham. Player bios coming to the website soon.
The official launch party of the Arras was a bit late, but what a crackerjack it still turned out to be. The Arras played the Tap and Mallet, and, in dramatic fashion, the winner of this clash of titans was decided by the last leg, the beer leg, where the whole team plays down from 1001, winner-takes-all, shit-or-bust. The standard of darts was electrifying, which meant it all came down to Madhouse: both teams aiming at double-one, the epitome of accuracy. Between them, both teams managed to miss approximately thirty darts at the desired double until Ian Doyle of the Albion Arras, unleashed hell with a dart that actually went where he was aiming it. The Albion, Loughborough, England, erupted.
It was a fantastic evening. The Albion sells some wonderful beer, and the fans, as well as both teams, took advantage. The atmosphere… words cannot describe the intensity. Well, they probably could, but I don’t know many words. The emotions a man can experience after a night of ale, darts, uncomfortably hot chilli, pool, karaoke and all male company… wow. A picture speaks a thousand words.
Pubs will make you fell, breathe and live:
Passion
Euphoria
Irrational Anger
Constipation
Partial Nudity
Acceptable Manlove
Double-One Finishes
OK, so “acceptable manlove” isn’t an emotion, and nor are a few others, and double-one finishes are just a result of shit darts, but you get the point. One night of darts and a few sociable ales can take you on an emotional rollercoaster through a modern-day gladiatorial arena. I am not advocating binge-drinking here. True, one of the Albion Arras had downed six pints before the start of the match, but that was just to settle his nerves, so was technically a medical necessity
Support your local pub. You don’t have to drink, although it helps - still yet to find an activity that isn’t as fun without beer. That’s a good topic of conversation, actually. Can anyone think of anything that is more enjoyable to do sober (except shaving a ball sack, especially your own)?
Brainwave!
I have been planning to run a competition for a while, now.
CHALLENGE: Apart from shaving pubic areas, can anyone think of something that is more fun to do sober?
PRIZE: The funniest answer will win themselves a genuine set of GREAT RIGHT HOPE DART FLIGHTS! It doesn’t get much better than that! Note: I said funniest answer. Emergency surgery on your faithful dog is not funny, but best done sober. I just upset myself. A death of a dog is the only justification for male tears.
You have until Thursday the 14th, 6pm UK time to enter! Just pop your answer on the bottom of this post.
Back to the blog. So yeah, you don’t have to drink to enjoy darts, pool, etc. They are great social games, unless playing in a rough-arsed pub where every item used to play barsports also doubles up as an exceptionally versatile, violent weapon.
You are going to hear a lot more from me about how much fun pubs are and about the positive aspects of drinking. Together, we can save the British Pub. Calling out to the USA! How are pubs doing over there?
There will be a page devoted to the Albion Arras, on my website. I’ll let you know when it is up and running, so you can meet the team. Ladies, don’t you worry; there WILL be full frontal nudity. Anyone in the Loughborough area, the Albion Arras are at home to the Dew Drop next Thursday. Would be great to see you all there.
H’oway the Arras!
Tags: 180, Albion Arras, ale, CAMRA, Competition, dart slags, darts, dog death tragedy, England, Loughborough, mark jackman, Save the Pub, Steven Segal's Stinkbridge, The Great Right Hope
IIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN One
Posted by Jacko | Filed under Albion Arras, The Great British Pub
What makes me British?
What gave me my sense of humour?
What made me, me?
The answer is the pub, the British pub.
There is no better time, for a man, than that magical couple of hours at the start of the evening where the first four or five pints are supped, and the conversation magically meanders down a stream of wit and immeasurable fun.
You’re going to hear a lot more from me over the next few months about the British pub because they are an endangered species. Did you know that? Thirty-nine (that better be right, Doylie!) are closing every week. It’s a disgrace. A bloody disgrace, and do you know what? I am gonna do something about it!
I’m not advocating binge-drinking, here, but there’s n’owt more fun than a night in a drinking pub. I ain’t talking about shitty bars with chrome/pine furniture, three-quid a pint minging lager and a bunch of pretentious w***ers swanning about like fake cockneys (mockneys), I’m talking about dingy, dirty pubs with pool tables and dart boards, which brings me on to my next topic: darts.
There is no better drinking sport than darts. Snooker is a sport that makes men commit suicide, and is the hardest game in the western world (pipped by kabaddi in the eastern hemisphere). Pool is a class game, but you have to pay money, and some of the balls get stuck and when you play winner-stays-on, some smarmy little bastard with his own queue cleans up. That leaves dominoes, back gammon, blah-di-blah; they’re for pensioners (any other good bar games that deserve a shout?). So darts is the best. Fact.
It is a game of skill, precision, maths and nerves. It is the ultimate sport.
Historically, this beautiful past-time gave rise to the finest gameshow ever to grace British TV: Bullseye (not the US gameshow presented by Jim Lange). Bullseye was amazing. I can’t be arsed to go into the details, but check this link out if you have never heard of this TV giant. The Bullseye Format Just to put into the context the enormity of Bullseye, it ran for thirteen years and drew in about fifteen million viewers, every Sunday night. That was over a quarter of the population!!
Here you go, enjoy …
DON, YOU F***ING IDIOT! YOU F***ING IDIOT! YOU NEEDED 40, YOU USELESS T**T! YOU ARE THE DART PLAYER! YOU ARE THE F***ING DART PLAYER!
Left side of the board for f**k’s sake.
Sorry.
Up north, Don would have lived out the rest of the days in hell. He would have been shunned by his family, friends, workmates and neighbours, and, to be fair, that would have been the least he deserved.
That’s darts, or arras (arrows) as we like to call them.
I said earilier that I wanted to save British pubs, and I do. Hopefully, as I grow into a famous, powerful, impotent author, I will be able to make a big difference to the pub industry. As an unknown, slightly out-of shape, nearly impotent author, I can help a little.
www.mark-jackman.com and www.ll-publications.com are now proud sponsors of a darts team, The Albion Arras, Loughborough, England.
We are having a night out on the oche to celebrate, and I will report back on the festivities. There will be a chance for you to meet the team, and a chance to win Albion Arras/Great Right Hope merchandise.
H’oway the Albion Arras! Wish them luck, friends!
“Wake up to a nice hot cuppa with this Goblin tea’s maid!” Jim Bowen, Bullseye Host.
Pic courtesy of Wikipedia (Mudhappy)
Tags: 180, 80s, Albion Arras, ale, beer, Britain, Bullseye, Jim Bowen, Jockey Wilson, LL-Publications, mark jackman, Pub, Quiz, ringpiece, The Great Right Hope, Tony Green, You can't beat a bit of bulley
