As they say in China. I hope you have all had a bootyful Christmas, I know I have, and i thought I would make a quick Keister post to bring in the new year. And it is a brief one, as I need to gety I self ready to go on the lash, This week I have decided to go a bit arty, with a moody black and white pose (above) and this trippy, acid style one. I do love the colour, even though I am not the biggest fan of tattoo's on the fairer sex. A little bit old fashioned on that score I'm afraid. Still damn fine keisters though...
Which brings onto our gratuitous ass shot for the week. This one is not as, ahem, in your face as previous entries, in fact you could say it is almost tasteful. The lighting on this shot is most sexy, but judging by the goose pimples on her arse, it must have been taken in a freezer...
Bender of the Year It is that time again, the end of year of review and awards post. This year was not a banner year for Benders, although it did serve up one of the greatest, and we had the biggest Bradford piss up in decades. First up our Dusseldorf odyssey. It had been planned for months, paid for, and discussed at length. As the days counted down, we began to build a quiet excitement, but just days before we were due to fly, and I mean like a day, a volcano in Iceland spewed millions of gallons of shit into the air. These being the days of Health and safety, all flights were grounded. Myself and Fromagio kept a news vigilance, praying that the ash cloud would change course, but with just hours before we flew, it looked grim. An executive decision was made, and a Hire Van was arranged. Road Trip! We traversed over 500 miles in a VW Transporter, and cut loose on the German city. But the adventure did not end their. We were kicked out of our Hotel after a "discussion" between Trigger and Fromagio got out of hand. This meant that still pissed, we were on our way to Koln. A moment of clarity saw us turn back, and a Holiday Inn was found and booked. Our epic Dusseldorf adventure was back on. The major made a great effort, five hours by train, and Shouty cemented his legend with a drinking feat that will be dealt with later. The ride back was not as packed with incident as on the way out ( on the way out we took a piss stop at a Belgian lay-by that appeared to a hot spot for gay Truckers looking for a bum.) but we still had a fair old hoot. The main contender to this trip was our Good friday Bender around the dive bars of Bradford town. Child Catchers phone was given a couple of beer baths, which ended up with him and Fromagio scuffling on the deck outside the Boy and Barrel, much to the amusement of the lesbians smoking outside. He also managed to wind up a Jamaican chap, who was not best pleased when he hid his grub from him. It was indeed a champion night, but not quite up there with the 'Dorf. Honourable mentions are Izzys head wetting. Boxing day with the Major and Mad Friday Christmas do in Bradford.
Winner- Dusseldorf Runner Up-Bradford Dive night
Squad Member of the Year
Even in a quite year, and even though he was struggling with his finances, nobody provided the entertainment value of the Right Honourable Shouty. His Yard of Killepitsch exploit is pure legend. This after he had been on the razz for nigh on 28 hours. Of course he was fucked afterwards, but I'd like to see you try it. This was not all he did to earn this award, but it sure went a long way towards it. Even more impressive was the next day. He may have gotten off to a sticky start, but come 8:30 on Monday morning, he was still standing (shakily). A truly legendary performance.
If Shouty proves a worthy winner, there can be no doubting that the fella who ran him closest for Member of the year, is a stand out runner up. He earned the silver medal for antics that are the Polar opposite to the guy who beat him into second, but without him, there is a strong possibility that we would still be stuck in Germany, living rough in the gutter. Dr Shotgun first came to the rescue on our first morning, after being booted out of our accommodation. All of us were still arsed from the night prior, and our Transporter needed moving. But the German police insisted we could not drive unless one of us could pass a Breathalyzer. Luckily I knew such a man, and Alfredo was up to the task. If der Coppers were not enough to contend with, we all told him to go several different places at once, in a Foreign country with no Sat Nav. The second instance of his heroics was the drive home. Once again the van was stuffed with still pissed Muppet's, but this time a 536 mile journey spread out before us. He struggled to get us out of Dusseldorf (he managed on the third attempt) but considering I couldn't get the GPS working on my phone for an ages, it was a good effort. When we finally got the mobile working, we were out of town in a breath. Which is just as well, as my phone ran out of charge almost as soon as we broke out on to the Autobahn. The last 50 miles must have been the hardest, as the rest of us flaked out in the back. Honourable mentions go to Sandro, Dr. Shotguns Shotgun driver, and devourer of Pork sandwiches. Fromagio, who helped organise the transport, and wound Child Catcher up so well. And lastly, to Major, who has travelled not once, but twice to be out on the lash. We will be making the trip to Basel some point this coming year, as the favour needs returning.
Winner-Shouty Runner up- Dr Shotgun
Newcomer of the Year There is only one chap in the running from 2010. He wasn't even supposed to be there, but he got stranded in Germany. Big Dessi was due to be back in Blighty for some Rugby do, or something, and just happened to miss his connecting flight. In Dusseldorf. The stars aligned, and a new squad member was born. I liked him instantly, as the first night out he duffed up Sprocket, which amused me no end. Of course it could have been all so different. He was not the only fella to get stranded. Unfortunatly for Chubs, he got stranded at work, and couldn't get away in time. The flight was an evening one, and when it was cancelled we had to set off before 10 in the morning, which meant the poor lad missed out. One door opens, another closes, as the saying goes. I think. Still Chubs has made it out on a few shindigs since, and is hopefully to become a regular fixture on our outings.
Winner- Dessi Runner up-Chubs
UK Pub of the Year This pub wins hands down, for me any way. Fanny's Ale House has been an excellent starting point for all of our Saltaire evenings this past twelve months. Which are quite a few, as it is a decent night at the moment. It has always had plenty of Real Ales, and enough strong Belgian beers, but it scored even higher this time round as it now has Kolsch on offer. Runner up, if only for it's Karaoke, is the Boy and Barrel. A classic Dive bar in every sense of the word, it has a most eclectic of clientele. From butch lesbians to the City Ointment, it has it all. I couldn't go every week, but as a once in a blue moon pissup, it is well worth trying.
Winner-Fannys Ale House, Saltaire Runner up-Boy and Barrel, Bradford
International Bar of the Year A limited field, as we only left these shores, as a unit, once this year. I reckon if you have read this far, you know where that was, so here is the winner and runner up. The winner is Bannerman 6 a club/bar in the Aldstadt. I am not even sure that's what it was called, but it was three stories of drinking madness. Is it a cool spot? No, it is a cheese fest, complete with a dancing cage. It even plays German drinking songs at sporadic intervals. Think of a friendly Pile Bar with better looking women. Runner up, by a smidgen, is the Red Lounge on Carlsplatz, in the same city. A mucho laid back joint, perfect for quaffing Kolsh on a warm spring afternoon. The bartender also had the most impeccable teeth you are likely to see this side of Hollywood. It was also the scene of Shoutys immortal drinking exploit. Honourable mention goes to some
So Farewell to 2010. A funny old year. Not as bleak as first suspected, but there was a definite tightening of purse strings. Next week I shall post a preview of what we hope to achieve next year, Till then, have a happy New year!
Yet more festive Buffoon points. Gareeeeee got off the mark, and has earned himself a name change in the process. He threw down the gauntlet, by making a bold claim the Adolf Hitlers real last name was Schicklgruber, and said if I called him out, and he was proved right, that I would get four points. Of course this meant that if he was wrong, those four points would be chalked up against his name. As you can guess, due to the fact that he is now known as Gruber ( Schicklgruber was too much of a mouth full) that I was yet again right, and he was hopelessly wrong. Adolf's dad was born Schicklgruber, but changed his name to Hitler in 1878, a full 13 years before the mad Austrian Despot was born. Crespo also racked up a point, although I can not for the life of me remember what for. Also John the Don is bound to have done something worthy of a point. There was probably much more earned later in the evening, but we were all far too pissed to remember.
The odyssey continues for Super Barry Conlon, who is once again looking for gainful employment at yet another club. Big Baz was dumped by Stockport County, his twelfth club, after being caught by the rozzers at twice the legal drink drive limit. Naughty Boy. The Irish lummox may struggle this time, as his age and injuries are starting to catch up with him. Can he wangle himself another signing on fee at a struggling lower league team? I wouldn't bet against him...
The weather has put paid to the football on Boxing day, but we are still set fair for a good ole booze up. Destination Saltaire, meeting the shoutster around five in the Victoria on Leeds road around 17:30. If you are stuck with family, nip to the bog, fashion an escape rope out of towels, and we will see you there.
Merry Christmas ass fans. Its just gone midnight, so while Santas trying to squeeze himself up the Elsters chimney, I thought I would pass the time by posting a trio of Yuletide Yass. The one above would indeed have no problem hitching a ride, which is just as well, cause dressed like that she'd soon get a chapped arse, which would be a damn shame. Much cosier is the fine little helper below, who is suggestively striking a pose near a bed. Naughty or Nice? You decide. A fine keister mind.
Of course what would this thread be without the obligatory "Gratuitous Arse Shot?" Nothing, that's what, and after extensive, ahem, research, I have found these Curvy Christmas Cheeks too warm the cockles. Merry Christmas to one and all.
The Buffoon blizzard continues to blow, this time big JohnnyM picks up a brace. At first they may seem harsh, but when thought through, are deserved. Now running out of petrol when you are 19, having cruised round your local village, with all your yahoo mates is a right of passage, and has been committed by one and all. But a 38 year old on his way to play a football game he has arranged? Muppet! To top it all, it was on a motorway. He then rang up his trouble and strife, told her his predicament, and asked her too fetch him some motion lotion. She turned up with a bottle of oil! Would have loved to have seen that one.... In fact, it's a three pointer. A bender is on the horizon, plus a Jannetta New year, so I reckon this is not the last haul of the festive season by a long shot.
I know it is after the Lord mayors show and all, but time has been hard to come by this December. Works do's, SammyJ's party and the like have meant our annual Bender Squad Xmas Shindig has been over looked. Well not exactly over looked, as lacking a date. So our main gathering this year will be Boxing Day, after football, from five onwards around Saltaire. Now I know Boxing Day is a family day for a lot of you, so apologies for not pulling one's finger out earlier. For those of you who can turn out, my phone will be on, and we are out late. Hopefully we will be hooking up with the Major and Duggy, who are on a flying yuletide visit from Switzerland. Hope to see you there, and if not, have a great Christmas.
That was one fucking long weekend. Beer ion Friday. Hangover, Beer and curry Saturday. Beer on Sunday. Where does the time fly? This does not excuse my idleness for last Wednesday and Thursday, but hey. What ya gonna do? Have caught up little bit, and shall endevour to catch up fully tomorrow.
To be stupid. As predicted the festive season has wrought much buffoonery. First up is a full ten pointer, my very first. For legal reasons I cannot elaborate any further at this moment, but all ten are well justified. Also from the same evening are 2010 champion Triggers first points of the season. His are harder to compile, as they cover a cornucopia of different events, not all that can be openly reported. A sample is of his continued request for me to give him a cigarette. When i told him I quit several years ago, he nodded sagely, and called me tight for not giving him a tab! A provisional seven pints to the reigning champion. Lastly is the tale of Dessi. Working abroad, he got drunk on his second night, couldn't find his hotel, and ended up walking into a site supervisors bungalow, and climbing into bed with him. Imagine the poor chaps astonished look to find a big lump of a stranger in his pit. He couldn't rouse him, and had to call security to get him up. This resulted in suspension, a quick trip back home, followed by a final written. Yet another ten score. And it is only the 20th. Still plenty of legs in the yuletide yet.....
This week we go all retro, with the wasp waisted Dita von Teese. Famed for her burlesque style strip shows, she has always been a personal favourite. I have always been a sucker for all that old school suspender belt/basque malarkey. There is one major mystery surrounding her though. How the chuff did Marylin Manson bag her? He must be hung like Indian Elephant, one can only assume.
She sure does the wrinkled stockings look better than Nora Batty. In fact I may require a moment................................................................................ That's better. Which brings us nicely onto this weeks gratuitous ass shot. A different pose to the usual bent over, just slip it in one that has been de rigeur of late. Of course I am sure you won't be disappointed, as this is perhaps the hottest post of all. Perfect shape, panties maintaining just right amount of mystique and finished off with thigh length socks. Pure heaven.
Buffoon Update: Just got off the phone to Crespo, booking train tickets for London. The muppett couldn't believe how much the fares had gone up, almost £100! Until he realised he was being quoted for four people not one, and when you divided the cost it was the same. One point, sir!
As we near the festive season there is no great stupidity to report, but I thought I best update all the same, as Christmas usually proves to be quite a fertile time for idiocy. First up I need to report my first scores of the year. I thought the first was a bit harsh. I came home arsed, rung up a bunch of grub from the local Chinese take away, and then passed out. The only reason I knew about this was the seven missed calls I got from Tim, the local purveyor of all foods from China. Actually, reading that back, it is a definite point. Good news is that Tim has forgiven me, and has said I need not worry about any "special" sauce in my next order. My second point is for the truly half arsed job I have just done wrapping up the Elsters Chrimbo pressie. In fact it was so bad I shall award myself two points. The next points are on the basis of hearsay and rumour, so may well be expunged, but we have our first "Munich Incident" of the season. Word on Facebook is the Geester has pooped his pants, an automatic three pointer, if memory serves. The last score to report goes to the Mighty Crespo. This weekend just gone was SammyJ's 40th birthday party, which had a seventies theme. As he always does, Lobon made a great effort, and dressed up as Jimmy Saville to do the DJing. He did the whole "Jewelery, Jewelery" schtick, and walked around the party sporting a large cigar, and offering to "Fix it" for one and all over the mic. He did this for about two hours, at which point the pretty one turned to the Mercenary and uttered the sentence "Here, is it me, or does Mick look a bit like Jimmy Saville?" A two pointer for sure.
This weeks post is in honour of the larger bottom. Not fat rippling large, but firm round and gravity defying. The kind you could bounce a coin on. Now this kind of ass seemed to have disappeared from the mainstream, to be replaced by wafer thin birds with flat bony backsides, which is just wrong. So much Respec' to Jennifer Lopez, who almost single handily bought the much riper butt back into vogue. The scene in "Out of Sight" where she gets it on with George Clooney is most bonerific. The only fear with this shape of posterior, is the fine line it treads between fine and fat. A couple of cheese burgers and it's all over...
Staying in the same vein, this weeks gratuitous ass shot is most curvy. Mmmmmmmmmmmm nice......
All my plans for today were thrown into disarray, after a visit to the local boozer last night. Once again a seasonal ale was laying in wait, to ambush me yet again. This time it was Rosey Nosey. I was lulled into a false sense of security by the benign looking Santa Claus on the pump. The smiling fella does not look like he is hiding an ABV of 4.9%. I didn't feel it too much at the time, but after guzzling a good gallon of the stuff, it was no pain time. The pain came the next morning, which meant I was not functioning properly till gone one, at which point Crespo showed up and took me off to the football. A quick detour via the greasy spoon, and I was as good as new. After the football it was to the Fighting Cock for a medicinal Kriek beer. Time to do some blogging? Afraid not, as I am now dressed up and ready to head for a 70's shindig. Tomorrow? Hangover permitting....
Is paved with good intention, as my favourite proverb says, and this week has seen an epic bout of procrastination from yours truly. I have plenty to post, including regular posts such as "Killer Keister", but have been smitten by yet another bout of chronic idleness. Combine that with my recent purchase of Gran Tourismo 5, and my eyes have well and truly been taken off the job in hand. Good news though. Tomorrow is a day off, and I shall be making every effort to get back up to speed. Of course I could do it tonight, but I am off to the pub. Good Health!
A fat Irish shouter. A vanilla crooner who can't grow a beard. A teary teenage Cole clone. A scouser with a fantastic voice and all the charisma of cardboard. Welcome to the Bland Factor.
There is taking the piss, and then there is Sepp Blatter and his FIFA cronies. He lead the FA a merry old dance. Got his boys wined and dined, and their arses kissed, and when the dust had settled they granted us a single vote. One. (We did get two, but seeing as one was from the English delegate it hardly counts) Monsieur Blatter, as ever, got what he wanted, and the World Cup in 2018 will be pitching it's tent in Russia. The fact that Russia won doesn't really bother me too much. As I posted earlier, I think England, and the Spanish/Portugese/Holland/Belguim bids were naive to think that it would be going any where else. Sepps mission is to take the Cup to fresh fields, and had made clear for months his preference for the Russians. But at least they have some football pedigree. They have provided some great players through the years. Yashin, Blockhin, Bellanov and Arshavin to name but a few, They were also European Champions in 1960, and have been runners up twice. They were also semi finalists in the 1966 World Cup. So fair enough, they deserve a shot at it. But then along came the 2022 announcement...
Which is that Qatar will be the host nation for the World Cup. This is a nation of some 1.6 million souls (roughly the same as manchester), a tiny outpost on the Arabian peninsula, whose football team is currently ranked 113 in the World. They have gotten about as close to qualifying for the finals as Bingley Juniors, and did not even enter the competition till 1978. It is the equivalent of awarding the Olympic games to Keighley, and holding them in February. And then outlawing the sale of alcohol. In fact, in Qatar, it is is an offence to be drunk in public. I think myself, Fromagio, Shouty, Helmet and the rest of the Squad need to be giving this one a wide berth. It is difficult to know who the World Cup of 2022 will be for. The Dutch? Far too liberal. The Germans? Hell they like beer even more than us. The Brazilians? Way too much skin on show. Scotland? Yeah right, they wish..... So the beginning of the end of International football is even nearer than I thought. Who will really give a toss about a tournament that inhibits fun, is played in a desert, and will be won be a host nation that will miraculously find that a new FIFA law allows them to buy players from whoever they want. As the video below shows, if they are relying on the local talent pool they are in big trouble. Even the good Doctor Shotgun would have buried this one..
As for England hosting a World Cup? Let it go, it ain't gonna happen in our lifetime. And to be honest, if it means we don't have to kow tow to a bunch of jumped up little pricks from the backwaters of the footballing globe, I hope we never even bother trying.
مرحبا ، كيف تفعل كل شيء؟ This message is for all my Arabic visitors, whose numbers have rocketed since I introduced the Killer Keister thread a few weeks back. In fact my visitor numbers have exploded since it's introduction, from all corners of the globe. Whether they actually read any of this nonsense is open to debate, but hey, who doesn't like to look at pictures of damn fine asses? Following on from the double entry of Ms Brunei last week, I have decided to incorporate another double helping. This time it's one of England's finest, the ever so lovely Kelly Brook. In fact her only purpose seems to be to pose provocatively for the camera. She has tried her hand at acting, presenting and even reality TV, but to be frank she sucked. So it is good to see her back at what she does best, which is too look hot. It is good to have her back, i am sure you are all agreed. Also as part of the evolution of this ongoing piece, I am also posting a weekly "Gratuitous Ass Shot" as they are also insanely popular. So from here on in it is a hat trick of delight I shall be providing on a weekly basis. Enjoy, I know I will...
A combination of icy cold wintry weather and man flu (sandwiching a hangover) lies at the heart of why there has been a lack of action on me old blog. I have picked up a chest infection that I can't quite shake, and working out in the elements has induced yet another bout of chronic idleness. Of course the shindig on Saturday went ahead, but only myself and Shouty went out for the duration. Of course the game was called off due to a frozen pitch, which meant I ended up in the boozer all day with the drinking champion of Europe. He was also suffering with a bit of illness, but unlike myself managed to go late into the night/early into the morning. There was still a decent turnout, but as usual when I am left supping with the Shoutster, I ended not as El Presedente, but more El Pissed-as-a-rat-te. Shotgun put in an afternoon shift, and Geevers, Crespo, Chubs, Clogs and Big JohnnyM all showed up late afternoon. Of course my recall is a bit sketchy from there on in. I know the Big Man got me home for around 11, at which point I rang the local Chinese and fell asleep. I know this because of the five missed calls I got from the purveyor of said grub when i failed to arise. Anyway, that means it should be a steady-ish weekend coming up. Which is just as well, because from there on in it all gets a bit hectic. First up is SammyJ 1970's birthday bash. Then an Away Day to Crewe followed by a works do, and then it's Chrimbo. This years Bender Squad X-fest is going to have to be Boxing day, which is a bit after the event, but it ties in well. Both Duggy and the Major are over from Switzerland, and City are at home, which means there will be a few of us out and about any way. Our destination of choice, to start out anyway, is Saltaire. I will follow the plans up later,when I am not feeling a shitty as i do now.
Have a Happy New Rear!!!!
