Monday, June 4, 2007, 01:23 AM
These eight fine male specimens are the members of my stag weekend in Dorset. The ninth, invisible one is my brother, author of this excellent image, taken on the peak of Golden Cap, at 191 metres, the highest point on the south coast. I'm the one standing underneath the 10-foot circus freak.
As with any decent stag do, the behaviour was drunken, degrading and downright distasteful, but I would not want to inflict such imagery on the visitors to a respectable website such as this. I mean, there's enough awful behaviour out there on the web - just try typing Republican Party into Google if that is what you want.
Instead, you are rewarded with this picture of eight men on the verge of debauchery. (Lamp-post, duct tape and female policewoman not pictured).
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Saturday, June 2, 2007, 01:04 AM
I realise that I take more shots than is strictly necessary in public toilets, but I feel that they speak volumes about a place and its people.
Crewkerne is a smallish, quaint-looking town somewhere in the south of Somerset, and driving through it, someone in the car will probably mumble "this is nice" and think nothing more of it, as you head to the south coast.
If, however, you choose to stop and imbibe at one of its impressively historic-looking public houses, you're in for a fright. Or a fight, if you're not careful.
Crewkerne is staffed by an almost excusively male population, overwhelmed with boredom and judging by the looks when our party of five blokes walked into the bar, a healthy distaste for the outside world. Their faces are set in a grim rictus of Friday night determination - if they fail to get lucky with the fairer sex, then the next best thing is a decent fist fight. As stated, the population is almost exclusively male, so we have a recipe for trouble here.
Walking into the Nag's Head, the 50 Cent track playing on the jukebox didn't quite fit with the weathered brickwork of the 16th-century coaching house, but it couldn't have been better chosen to act as a soundtrack for the sullen expression that greeted the new arrivals. And that was just the bar staff. Five pints were promptly dispatched, the toilet was visited, and we moved on.
As long as toilets continue to act as a sort of social barometer, my camera will continue to accompany me on my trips to the bathroom. Rest assured that I won't actually be photographing its occupants, for then I will be truly deserving of a slap, as they say in Crewkerne.
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Friday, June 1, 2007, 12:49 AM
If you have ever wondered in which environment cork is likely to move at the greatest velocity (I confess, this had vexed me greatly until now), it is not in a bottle of Bollinger on a club class airliner, but on the tables of Bar Kick in Shoreditch. 
This is where I took part in an inter-agency table football tournament hosted by my friends at the only other agency that matters - Soup. It may at this point be worth stating for the record that willrolls.com owes its birth and therefore its existence to the guys at Soup, so I'll just insert a grateful pause there.
That should do it.
Now where was I? Oh yes, four of us from Profero turned up to try our hand against people from the many other advertising agencies dotted around London. In a sweaty, charged atmosphere that would have made an illegal Vietnamese pitbull-baiting session look like high tea, myself and Guy managed to progress to the second round, where we were duly dispatched, and not before time. Prior to this, we had the pleasure of playing against an individual who allegedly took part in the world table football championships, and needless to say we were polished off with the effort that a Sumatran tiger would put into eating a cocktail sausage. I could have sworn that one or two of their goals were offside, but when you lose 7-0, it's churlish to quibble.
Nonetheless, I can heartily recommend this location and this event, and would give it 10/10 for anyone who wants to sharpen their reactions and wit, whilst drinking loads of beer.
I would warn any advertising execs against becoming too proficient at this sport - after all, you have to demonstrate to your boss and your client that you are overworked and never get to spend time leading a normal life. No spinning please.
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Thursday, May 31, 2007, 11:20 PM
Oh, this is both true and good. Let it never happen to you.I share my flat with a kind, considerate and tidy young woman. In all the time she has lived here, her behaviour has been exemplary, and it is often I who is in the housework doghouse.
Last night, she went out for her leaving do at work, and returned very late, by which time I was tucked up in bed.
Our paths crossed in the morning, and she mumbled something about being tired but having had a good night. She then left for work, and shortly afterwards, I left the flat and locked up.
What she neglected to tell me was that she had imported a young gentleman into the household last night, and that he was still slumbering in her bed when I left. My act of locking up my flat effectively condemned this young trader type to spend the entire day staring out of my window, wondering if it would be a bit reckless to try to slide down the drainpipe from the third floor of a building. He didn't try, and instead spent the day reading my copious collection of photography books.
There's a lesson here:
If you get pulled (which makes you the pullee), take note of all emergency exits, and do not enter a property you're not willing to spend quality time in.
If you are the puller, make sure that you notify co-habitants of conquests. It's not cocky, just common sense.
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Monday, May 28, 2007, 10:08 PM
I perhaps feed off meagre victories, but I am pleased to report, ahead of schedule, that May has witnessed this site receiving over 100 unique visitors every day. Considering it was 8 visits a day when I started it 10 months ago, this is quite a satisfying achievement. Whilst many web entrepreneurs may scoff at my mere 100, I am pleased that it has been achieved without selling anything, offering prizes or showing images of ladies' naughty bits. It has all been driven off whimsical visual ramblings that would otherwise be wasted on the world.
In honour of this, I am also able to report via my site statistics below that I am 'big in Latvia'. I never expected to be able to say that.
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