Third post in about as many minutes. BALLOONS!

This video is proof that I have had the privilege of knowing some of the coolest people on Earth.



How. Cool. Is. That.

Dancing Spleen (har har)

2am
Stumble indoors
Realise jumper fell off outside
Fumble with key to get back out
Retrieve jumper
Stumble upstairs
Disrobe
Fall onto bed
Decide to check email
Fall off of bed
Check email
Fall back into bed
Decide to open window
Fall back out of bed
Struggle with window
Decide to write blog.

Hobbit beer garden: awesome.
Drinking games: fun, but only once you've had a few.
Singing back at a guy singing Del Amitri 'Nothing Ever Happens' in the toilets: Funnier than it should have been.
Jesters: oven.
Playing 'I Have Never': Dear Self, please bear in mind before you play this, you have done a lot of stuff, so make sure you have a non-alcoholic drink next time.
Dancing: awesome. Especially when they played ska instead of shitpop.
Stealing someone's cowboy hat: awesome until someone else stole it from me.
Muscles: oww.

Sleep now.

Avast!

Right!

Everybody choose your pirate names!

I am 'Blind Dead McJones.'

And make it good, because you only get to choose ONCE.

Capture the Flag.

So. Hands up who here has heard of flash mobbing?

Really? That many?

Ok, well congratulations all of you for being so up with things (just in case you didn't know what flashmobbing was, you'll notice I've given you the opportunity, by blogging this instead of asking you to your face, to find out about it on Wikipedia and act like you knew all about it anyway).

Well. In any case, flashmobbing is dead. Get over it.

But! I have an idea. And by 'I have an idea' I mean 'Somebody else had an idea and I'm going to use it (with permission, insofar as it is not copyrighted anyway, of course) because I am just that awesome'.

I fully intend to set up a new tradition in Southampton: Capture the Flag.

And no, I'm not talking about video games. I'm talking about Capture the Flag, played by real actual people, in the real actual city of Southampton. With real flags. Or something that looks like a flag. Possibly one of those little sandcastle flags, to add to the difficulty factor.

I'm quite early in the planning stages (i.e. I got the idea about an hour ago), but so far, this is how I see it going down.

• We publicise the event underground, through the usual surreptitious channels (by which I mean, err... MySpace, mainly), collecting email addresses, but not giving out locations or a date.
• When we have enough people, we send out an email to all those concerned, giving the date - with a reasonable amount of notice, of course - and the gathering place. Which will be near, but not in, the playing area.
• We have a theme. Each team will be either a colour, or a separate theme. You will already have guessed, if you know me at all, that I am thinking Pirates vs. Ninjas.
• There will be referees. They will be dressed as whatever the hell they like. Giant teddy bears. The CN Tower. A bottle of ketchup. Whatever.
• Communication will be by mobile phone. Referees will have the numbers for the two team captains. The captains will phone two other people, they will phone two other people, etc etc, you see how this works. This is to notify of scores, of time left at regular intervals, of prisoners taken, and anything else of importance, including the end of the game.
  
• We will take a whole lot of really, really stupid photos. If anything goes wrong: we plead the fifth! Or not. I don't really know what that means. We just cite our right to assemble, our right to dress like idiots, and our right to get the hell out of there and regroup, I suppose.

So. Who's with me?

Camping extravaganza!

And so I return, victorious, from a two-and-a-bit-day camping extravaganza, with what can only be described as:

• A 'healthy glow' (pink as a lobster)
• A shopping basket.
• A model windmill.
• 'Camping hair'.
• A small goldfish named Keith, in a sweet jar. Bonds' Nut Clusters, to be precise.

Observe! The empirical evidence of a brilliant weekend:



The weather, despite being forecast to be shit, was actually brilliant, as proved by this rather glorious picture of yours truly wearing some really rather ridiculous sunglasses:



During our epic scavenger hunt, we came across this:



The tiniest ice cream van in the world! In case you can't read it, the writing on the side says 'Minghella's'. My mum reliably informs me, the company is owned by relatives of the film director, Anthony Minghella. One can't help but think, then, that they could have afforded a slightly roomier van. But, islanders can't be choosers (dear anybody-from-the-island-who-might-be-reading: that was a joke) so I think the 'little van that could' should be applauded for its ice cream selling efforts.

The following picture is one of my favourites from the weekend: Dave, chilling out with Keith, our newly acquired fishy friend (who is sitting next to me as I type.)


I like to imagine the dialogue thus:
Dave: Yo Keith, how you doin'? You like the sunshine?
Keith: ... Fuck off.

Ben masters the new dance move that everybody's talking about - The Sprinkler.

Ben was on something of a roll with dancing, what with having invented 'Fish Raving' only hours before. Videos, hopefully, to follow.

I am the epitome of class.


This looks like some kind of rip-off of the promo shots for 'Skins'.


Some of the more memorable moments included Manley rolling around in the popup child's tent with his third beer at about 1pm on Saturday before we started to set up camp, yelling gleefully "This was thirteen quids worth of pure genius!"
(The tent later became Keith's tent. That's one well looked after bloody goldfish, I can tell you.)

Also, last night, after returning from our slightly (ha!) drunken bus quest to a rather piratey pub, Dave and I went to bed shortly after we got back, then Adam and Ellie went to their tent, and as Ben, Mark and Manley were still moving about getting ready we hear Ellie yell:
"Eugh, someone help me, I can't get out of the tent because Adam's being sick!"
The tent unzips and we hear Adam stumbling about.
Ben calls out, "Adam, are you ok?"
"I'm fine."
"Have you been sick?"
"I'm fine."
"Have you been sick?"
"No."
Followed very closely by *BLAAAAAARORGH*.

Lovely.

All in all, an absolutely bloody brilliant weekend.
Scavenger hunts FTW.

Natasha Bedingfield

You need a fucking restraining order. You need to stay at least ten miles away from anything with reproductive organs, and any medical facilities which may remove the need for reproductive organs.

Basically, the day you get anywhere near enough to someone to have their babies, is the day I will throw myself off a roof.

ONE OF YOU IS ENOUGH.

Good lord you make me sick.