Nothing that a good dose of Therapy? can't fix

....live like a fucker, die like a motherfucker....

A fine sentiment, I'm sure you'd agree and a sentiment coined by those popular Northern Irish rock beat combo merchants, Therapy? Who just so happened to play a gig tonight in Antwerp, ably assisted by the Belgian band Waldorf.

In the interest of providing you, The Discerning Reader, with a blow by blow account, here is my concert review. Sort of. (for I know you're all soooo interested in such things)...

Therapy? rocked last night.
The support band, a band from Ghent called Waldorf were pretty good as well.

So pumped by the concert was I, thatI got home at 04:30 this morning. Not very sensible, but do you wantto know my secret?....The "power nap".

I went to bed yesterday evening at 18:30 and got up at 20:45. More than enough time to recharge the batteries for the debauchery that followed. Not for the first time this week, Colin and myself had my Northern Ireland flag raised high and proud above our heads. At every opportune moment when it was quiet enough (and believe me there weren't too manyof those) we would burst into song, singing the name of my - and Therapy?'s lead singer, Andy Cairns - home town, Ballyclare - except it was more like:
"Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!"
"Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!"
"Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!"
*ahem* - I think you get the idea.

Anyway, after a few attempts to get his attention, we eventually succeeded and I'm pleased to report the follwing discourse took place:

Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!

Andy Cairns: You're shîtting me!

Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!
Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!

Andy Cairns: Is there REALLY a Ballyclare contingent here tonight?

Colin + Jonny: Balllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeclaaaaaaaaaaaare!YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

Andy Cairns: OK ladies and gentlemen of Antwerp - time for anexplanation. Ballyclare is my home town.

Jonny: And mine! And mine!
Colin: And his! And his!

Andy Cairns: Do you know the way some towns are twinned with others,like I dunno - Nice is twinned with fucking Stoke-on-Trent. Well, Ballyclare is in a suicide pact with fucking Amsterdam, you knowwhat I'm saying??!!

Colin + Jonny: HELLLLLL YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! whilst high fiving.

All very high brow stuff, I'm sure you would agree - but it made our night!

The rock party afterwards was a blast and then of course we had to goto The Dubliner for the one post-show drink (Alas Andy Cairns didn't join us). Hence the lateness of the night...Now I'm gonna have to sit in the office here until long after everyone else has gone to make up my hours.

tsk tsk

Colin and Jonny's Roadtrip to Nowhere

Happy Easter one and all!

I hope whatever you did proved enjoyable.

Mine....well mine was, let's just say a wee bit different.....

As you may, or may not be aware, England took on my home country, Northern Ireland on Saturday in a world cup qualifier. And, as luck would have it, I managed to get 4 tickets. So it was deicded that the PopTart and I would head off to Castle Greyskull, The Theatre of Nightmares, home of that pub team Manchester United, to watch the game.

By car.

We would go via Stansted airport to pick up my brother Darren and his mate, before embarking on a trip to Manchester to join in the fun.

So it came to pass, that we set off from Turnhout in the middle of nowhere in Belgium at 03:30 CET Saturday morning and embarked on our journey of epic proportions.

The match itself was one of the best I've ever been to. Our support was incredible.

The fact that we were beaten 4-0 (with 4 lucky goals) did not matter one jot. For when it came down to the crunch the Northern Ireland supporters were not left wanting when it came to the party stakes.

Despite being outnumbered 10 to 1, we outsung them before, during and after the match. We might be ranked 114th in the world but our fans are number one!

I can honestly say it was one of the best games of football I have ever been to.

And for anyone who questions my sanity in driving a 1600 km, 18 hour round trip, surviving on less than anhours sleep over a 50-odd hour period, to watch a game of football that we lost 4-0 and for me to say it was one of the best games of football I have ever been to -you only have to look at this short clip to see why it was all so worthwhile...

http://www.putfile.com/media.php?n=great-escape

Last Orders? You're having a laugh!

Belgium, well certainly the fair city of Antwerp which I now call my home, is a wondrous place with many delights, the wonderful architecture, the grand history, the beautiful museums, are all reason enough to come for a visit.

But I'm not here to tell you about any of that - there are plenty of websites out there to cater for that kind of insight into Antwerp and beyond. Instead, I would like to concentrate on that most wondrous of Belgian innovations.
24 hour drinking.

For yes, while the UK procrastinates (there's that word again) on the evil that would be unleashed if 24 hour drinking was to become a possibility, Belgium just merely gives a continental shrug of the shoulders and gets on with the matter in hand.

And here's the thing - you very rarely see drunk people, fights, or any of the other sins that would surely be unleashed in the UK an dIreland if the folks back home where to embrace such a thing.

And this is one of the reasons why I love this place.

Not merely the fact that I can get absolutely shitfaced all night long and carry it on into the next day if I so wished (and on occasion have been known to do so) but it is the nonchalant manner in which the Belgians accept this as a way of life. The average Belgian does not go out on their night out until after 11pm. 11pm!! In so many pubs up and down the land in the UK and Ireland, this is when that wonderful tradition of being “asked” to leave the premises by a couple of Neanderthals kicks off.

Premises that had once seemed so welcoming just a few rounds ago are now more like rugby scrums.

Compare this with the Belgian attitude of "drink less volume, drink stronger, drink longer, go home when you feel like it" and you soon see that the two attitudes are worlds apart. Don't get me wrong - it must be a real bitch if you work in the horeca (hotel restaurant cafe) trade, the hours must be horrendous, but it's great if you're on the other side of the bar and in no rush to go home.

However, the average night out in Belgium is fraught with danger and this is the main reason for this "bloglet". So if you're thinking about coming over from the UK and Ireland or further afield were drinking is regulated with some form of closing, please read this little print off and keep guide to having a night out Belgian style.

1. The most important rule - if you remember one thing, remember this - "It's a marathon - not a sprint!" Like I said, 24 hour drinking ensures that there is more than enough time.
2. There are several hundred different Belgian beers, most of them are over 5% alcoholic strength. Some even go as high as 12%
3. A standard beer or pils, such as Stella or Juplier, weighs in at 5.5%. They are called "pintjes" (pronounced "pinch-yas"). And are only 250 ml, less than half the volume of a normal pint back from home. It is not a dent to your macho but oh so fragile male pride to drink these small glasses. It's a marathon - not a sprint!
4. Once the beer gets to be too much, you can go onto spirits, but it should be worth noting that these are bloody expensive as I've found out all too late after a session on the Irish whiskeys. But hey - the lure of a Black Bush proves too great for your humble scribe.
5. Jenvers are another drink to be found in abundance in Belgium. It is a juniper berry based liquor and there are several hundreds of these to be sampled as well. Most notably at de Vagant, very close to the impressive cathedral in Antwerp's old town. (http://www.worldsbestbars.com/city/antwerp/de-vagant-antwerp.htm) My own particular weapon of choice being a Cristal pintje with a Vieux D'Anvers jenever. Many a trip into oblivion taken with this lethal combination
6. And remember, no last orders - so no panic buying, no speed drinking, no.....ah fuck it - why do I bother?... if you see me on a night out, don’t but me drink – I’ll have had enough already – just put me back upright on my barstool!

Procrastination - the curse of the blogger

OK Folks,

It's taken me quite some time to add to this blog and for that I can only apologise.

The problem is that once it was all set up, I got quite intimidated at the prospect of trying to create something that people would find (a) interesting and (b) encourage them to take part and add to this fledgling part of cyberspace.

But I have seen the light and the light was shining at the bottom of a bottle of a fine Chilean red wine and I am now at ease with myself and my blog, which through time, I would hope will become our blog.

So armed with a bit of Dutch courage, all be it of a South American origin, I shall endeavour to pick up the pieces of a broken blog and bring it kicking and screaming back from the brink, phoenix style.

Instead of trying to dispense great pearls of wisdom, I shall write whatever comes into my mind. Yes it may be trivial, indeed it may also be boring although heaven forbid that that should happen - my website becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy of itself. I'm sure there's a moral in there somewhere.

You may have noticed by the date and time stamp on this post that, it has been written on a Friday evening. “Dear God!” I hear you all scream - Belgium really must be boring if the poor guy is sat in his compact but bijou apartment all on his own writing this crap. But au contraire, Dear Reader, far from it and this is what this little bit of cyberspace will hopefully help dispel.

I am of course just about to head out into the Antwerp night with beautiful chick in tow.
Honest.

This blog was brought to you in association with Pink Floyd - "Wish you were here"

Getting back to the topic in hand

OK – in the last couple of blogs I have strayed slightly from the original topic. I felt the need to do that in order to share with you the stage I am at in my life. A brief recap for those at the back:

I am from Ireland

I am 32 years young

I am living in Belgium

I am obviously trying my best to come to terms with the fact that I am in my early thirties and am still single. God I feel like the male equivalent to a character from Sex and The City…you know the one – the one that wears the weird clothes and one that writes even weirder articles



So having laid these foundations I feel that is more than time to get back to the matter in hand:



Belgium Is Boring



Let’s debate this matter further…..or rather let me write what I think on the matter and you out there, the Discerning Surfer, can respond with your own thoughts.

The Life and Times of Being a Minger Magnet

It is my intention that this little corner of cyberspace that I reside in will evolve and grow as we get more familiar with each other. I am quite alien to the concept of keeping a journal for myself, never mind for the more discerning internet surfer out there.



The fact that you are here reading these words, is already a comfort to me. It is reassuring to know that in this crazy place we call planet earth there are other people who share my interests



Today’s topic – Mingers. Or more importantly, my ability to attract them. Don’t get me wrong. Ugly people could (and should) find love as well but at the risk of sounding facetious and arrogant - I’m not really in the market for an ugly person just yet.



Sure of course this may change as loneliness and desperation set in but in the meantime, I’m just happy being my own person again and doing what I want and when I want. OK - granted that’s not much different compared with when I was in a relationship. “Ahhaaaaa!!!” I hear you crying out loud at your monitors, “that’s your problem BIBMaster – that’s why you find yourself emotionally scarred as you so obviously are, stumbling through the scattered landscape of broken hearts and shattered dreams!”.



But why say that? Why shouldn’t I be able to do what I want? (within reason of course). I am quite happy with my Mrs. Right doing what she wants just so long as our paths cross every now and then and we acknowledge each other’s existence from time to time and we’re not hurting each other, I see no harm in it.



I feel the need to back up this with an example. For instance – if I would like to go to the pub and watch some football with my mates on a Wet Wednesday in November – is that really such a crime? If Mrs. Right would want to go out with her mates to, let’s say for argument’s sake to shop I certainly wouldn’t stand in the way. I’m a man of the 21st century. I believe that Mrs. Right should be entitled to enjoy and pursue her interests without fear of recrimination from me, the loving Mr. Right.



Surely this is how it should be? Am I really that wrong?



But getting back to the original topic – Mingers need not apply.

Unlucky in love

OK Folks, I realise that we are only at the formative stages of our friendship. The “getting to know you” stage so to speak, but of course with all good friendships, we need to open ourselves up just a little in order to find out a bit about each other. What makes us tick.



I understand your reticence at doing such a thing – I mean, after all, who in their right mind would open up to a guy (or is it girl?) that hides behind the moniker of “BIBMaster”? Apart from the fact that it sounds like some sort of weird BDSM title, you also have to wonder at the motives behind an individual who hides behind such a nickname.



No offence taken – as I said I understand completely; so I’ll get the ball rolling by letting you into my world. A glimpse of what it’s like to be a young(ish) ex-pat living in Belgium, unlucky in love and on the search for his “Mrs. Right.” OK – so I’ve let the cat out of the bag now – I’m male – but see? – this is the sort of thing that I’m talking about. The getting to know you phase is already in full effect!



First of all, I’ve met many Mrs. Rights along the way. In fact they are everywhere. The problem is that it just seems that I’m their Mr. Wrong.



Of course this rather important fact is not always obvious at the start and it is only after going through the trials and tribulations of a relationship before we (read she) decides that the novelty of having an Irish boyfriend starts to wear off.



The hectic social calendar, the large circle of friends, the love of sports, partying and in general just having fun seemingly proving to be too much for my Mrs. Right and off she runs to the safe haven of a “normal boyfriend” (whatever that is) or at the very least one of those rabbit vibrators that I’ve heard so much about, come to think of it, usually from ex-girlfriends.



But hey, I’m not bitter and it would be churlish of me to rake up the twisted car wrecks of previously failed relationships.



I mean – I don’t want to scare you all off just yet, do I?