Once again, dear blog fiends, yer actual Keith Telly Topping welcomes you all to the latest
From The North update; coming to you - live, as it were - from The Actual Stately Telly Topping Manor and all that and everything. Also, as usual, it should be thoroughly noted that all of the vaguely amusing remarks and right bleedin' sarcastic twaddle contained within this here blog update will be a collection of oldies ... but goldies. Allegedly.
First up, there has to be - obviously - the semi-regular
From The North weather report from The Stately Telly Topping Manor. It's been aal ower the little-shoppe-of-horrors of late, dear blog reader. Well, what the Hell else did you expect? This
is, after all, an English summer, manifest strangeness is only to be expected in such times.
Albeit, there have been more than a few occasions recently where this blogger has found it extremely necessary to, ahem, 'keep it cool' within The Stately Telly Topping Manor whilst going about his (entirely lawful) daily business.
Oftentimes, it's simply too damned hot, dear blog fiends. And the drums never cease.
♣♠♥♦ 'Pick a card. Any card.
Wrong!' 'That was '
Jacket Hangs' by The Blue Aeroplanes at number twenty eight, pop-pickers, what did you think of
that chartbound sound, Roy?' 'They've certainly got dedication, Fluff.' 'Not 'alf. Next '
Don't Fear The Reaper'. Over to you, Doctor Schreck ... ' ♣♠♥♦.
Of course, the really, really
really mega-big, absolutely-ginormous-in-the-area, definitely-maybe news to have occurred since
last this blogger did blog (like a big ... blogging thing) has been
From The North favourites, Them There Oasis,
playing their first rock and/or roll jiggs since 2009. Not entirely unexpectedly, dear blog fiends, there hs been plenty of crass sneering from all of the usual suspects. And a plethora of atypical 'oh, I never liked them when they were going first time around and I want to tell
everyone that'll listen (and, indeed, anyone that
won't) all about this since it's vitally important that you all hear what I have to say on the subject. Can I have a medal for my glorious self-sacrifice in this regard?' nonsense. From, inevitably, Middle Class hippy Communist
Gruniad Morning Star reading, vegan quiche-eating
wazzocks. They're quite a sight, so they are. Haters gonna hate, dear blog readers, it's a bit of a universal constant. Just like gravity. Or, indeed, gravy for that matter. 'I need to be myself, I can't be no one else.' This blogger's considered review of the start of the tour, in Cardiff? He
thought it was fookin' great. And, he is, of course, a highly respected best-selling author, journalist and broadcaster, dear blog fiends, so you should probably take at least a little bit of notice of what
he has to say on the subject! Or not, it's still a free country - for the moment.
As for all of the crass, sneering Middle Class hippy Communist
Gruniad Morning Star reading, vegan quiche-eating
wazzocks, dear blog reader, this blogger has but one, simple, message for posterity to send in their general direction. Stick
that in yer vegan-non-leather manbag along with your Waitrose fair-trade brown-bread-and-green-stuff sandwiches and your bottle of ethically-sourced mango pop and your bloody unlistenable Mumford & Sons CD. Where were
you while we were getting high? Here endeth the lecture.
Following getting all
that off this blogger's forty six inch chest, we have the first in what may be a new semi-regular series, the
From The North Word Of The Day. Accurate.
So, have a look if you will at this here face, dear blog fiends. Absolutely
slappable, isn't it? But, anyway,
That Face is one you sometimes see when one has just done the weekly shopping, needed to spend thirty five knicker or more to get some bonus points on ones in-store card and the total bill comes in at £35.08. To be fair, it could
also be
That Face when one has just trodden in something extremely nasty, this blogger could go either way on that one. Keith Telly Topping also grovelingly apologises for the right 'orrible state of his hair in this photographic representation, but it
was quite windy up Shields Road on that particular day. That's this blogger's excuse, dear fiends and he is
thoroughly sticking to it.
Let us, therefore, kick-off this
From The North update with the latest in a jolly long line of 'I Will Not Celebrate Meaningless Milestones' blog moments.
From The North recently received its
fifteen millionth page-hit since records began (2006). Which, presumably, means that at least one dear bloggerisationism fiend has been visiting here for the last nineteen years, several-dozen times per day, in the vague hope of finding some pornography hereabouts. Sorry for fifteen million bitter disappointments, whomsoever you actually are. And whilst we're about it, put it away, you're impressing no one.
The blog's recent activity (one extremely curious day in mid-May aside) continues to hover around the five-to-eight thousand daily page-hits - as this visual representation demonstrates.
Moving on, quickly, from all of this appalling self-aggrandisement to Monday of this very week, dearest blog fiends, when this blogger had his latest monthly 'let's do lunch'-type summit with the legend that is this blogger's close personal fiend, Young Malcolm. Here was the place where this meeting-of-minds went down (a new venue to both of us, as it happens - and really jolly nice it was too).
This is what we were doing ... in addition to swapping home media and talking, at length, about British movies and television of bygone days and this blogger's recent (and, hopefully, forthcoming) publishing endeavours. So, no change there, then.
This, here, is how the whole thing started.
Followed by The Main Event (which, if you're taking notes and/or considering going there your very self in the future, was
proper lush. Both this blogger and Young Malcolm
really deserved this).
And then, this blogger indulged himself in a nice, steamin'-hot, cup of Sweet Joe (plus an After Eight, an unexpected bonus).
Once the bill had been settled (including a perhaps-small-but-beautifully-formed tip for service), it was off with the pair of us straight to HMV where this blogger picked up the latest Stately Telly Topping Manor home-media stash. Here.
As usual, dear blog fiends, the whole event was
extremely civilised, as well as educational, informative and, indeed, entertaining. And the food was actually angelic (we'll go there again, that's for damned sure). Certainly, it was all something of a step-up from the usual - albeit, geet cushtie and, also,
really deserved - Us Dinner-type malarkey at The Stately Telly Topping Manor, 咖喱米飯和晶片.
Next ... Let us hope both of them - left to their own devices - paid their rent.
The sad part of many
From The North blog updates these days is this blogger having to both report and reflect upon the shuffling off this mortal coil of several more of his heroes (or, at the very least, people whose work he has admired from time-to-time). Following the departures of
Sly Stone and
Brian Wilson a couple of weeks ago, we had a perfectly
horrible forty eight hours over last weekend where we lost in rapid succession
Ken Colley,
Gerald Harper,
Michael Madsen and
Julian McMahon. That's one extremely invested serial-killer, dear blog fiends (and, presumably one with a frequent-flyer ticket).
A necessary Stately Telly Topping Manor confession. This blogger never actually got around to taking his driving test. Shamefully, Keith Telly Topping realises. But, for the singular opportunity to pilot Thunderbird 2, he'd've willingly learned and worn his L-plates with considerable pride.
Meanwhile, this blogger
really wants one of
these little beauties framed for The Stately Telly Topping Manor living-room wall. Perfect for going underground (at midnight or, indeed, otherwise).
These are the current Premier League standings according to the FA website one day last week. Another disappointing season for Manchester United and (especially) Spurs ahead, seemingly. Plus, a shock first title for Bournemouth, Brentford getting in the Champions League and Burnley in Europe and Sunderland managing to
avoid relegation - whom would've guessed?
All of which brings us nicely to what this blogger has decided shall, from henceforth, be The Stately Telly Topping Manor own personal motto. It's certainly fitting.
As opposed to this - admittedly entirely valid - Stately Telly Topping Manor description.
Remember, dear blog fiends, when in doubt ... 'don't think, just panic.'
'Calling all cars, calling all cars. Quick, lads, Greggs sausage rolls are on-sale at half-price for the next half-an-hour. When they're gone, they're gone.'
A special message, now, for all of
From The North's many readers in the Thames TV region. 'Dun-dun-dun-dun, der-der-ter-terrrrr.' And, now we're done.
Let it be known that yer actual Keith Telly Topping one day last week - and despite not actually feeling all that well that particular day - managed to change The Stately Telly Topping Manor duvet, The Stately Telly Topping Manor pillowcases
and The Stately Telly Topping Manor sheets in The Stately Telly Topping Manor pit. Consequently, this blogger exclaimed the following for all the world (or, at least, all of the world that is within earshot of The Stately Telly Topping Manor estate) to hear.
This week's top
From The North tip for all dear blog fiends owned by a cat.
If
that doesn't do the trick, you could always get them to design something like this. It'll make them a fortune and save
you from lots of painful scratches.
From that, dear blog fiends, to
From The North's Headline Of The Fortnight nominations. Starting with
this cracker (in every sense of the word imaginable) from the good old US of A.
'I imagine some people think the story isn't true,' John told
Cornwall Live. This blogger cannot, possibly, imagine why anyone would
possibly think such a thing, John mate. It all sounds so utterly plausible.
So, which camp do
you fall into, dear blog reader - sceptic or true believer?
After that right load of old cock,
another right load of old cock. Seemingly.
Of course, a
From The North Headline Of The Fortnight nominees list simply wouldn't be complete without
something from The Metro (so, not a
real newspaper, then). After all, dear blog fiends, whom amongst us can say, in all honestly, that they have never idly wondered about the state of yer average plod's plates-of-meat? This blogger knows he, certainly, has. Mind you, by that same token, he's never actually gone to the trouble of ringing up the local nick to satisfy his curiosity once, let alone twelve hundred times.
Yes,
Dorset Echo, that'll be the planet Venus as filmed by someone with, seemingly, an inability to keep their mobile phone steady whilst filming upwards. (A tip; usually a good way to spot Venus in the sky in such circumstances is that it's got a big white arrow pointing to it.) Next ...
Things which are
not 'like a lake' (or, even, a smallish pond),
Worcester News,
this puddle. And, whilst we're about it - oi, get a haircut, hippy.
The Great Snoring Bollard Mystery is, of course, without any shadow of a doubt the finest novel that Agatha Christie
never wrote.
The
Metro (so, again, not a
real newspaper) gets a second entry in this blog's nominations list; this one a classic example of their 'do you people ever, actually, report any
proper news or is it all abject, worthless
horse-crap such as this? Sorry, silly question'
oeuvre. Trees
died to bring you this information, dear blog fiends.
Of course, dear blog fiends, it's always worth considering that swearing is neither big nor clever. And yer actual Keith Telly Topping should muddyfunking-well know all about such culting slit. As for those who wish to indulge in any blasphemy, please remember that some of the clergy are tooled-up and packin' considerable heat especially for people like
you. Peas and rice.
On a similar theme, there's his classic from the archives. Which is a fairly straight piece of reportage about a serious social menace of the 1980s until you reach the third paragraph and the name of the rozzer in charge. At which point, dear blog fiends, all bets are off. He's called
what, now?
'I like my coffee like I like my men ...
covered in bees.'
When it comes to bees, of course, there is only but merely one thing that you need to remember, dear blog readers ...
'It's the man, it's the man
it's the very man.'
'This
is a
Cheese Shop, isn't it?' 'Yes sir, but it's a bit runny.'
These pants will
never stand up in court.
And, after that,
a squash which 'looks a bit like a thingie'. A slow news day in Guernsey, was it?
Does anyone else reckon that
Keith Pensioner is his
actual name?
The
next nominee - from the
Aberdeen Press & Journal - contains the phrase 'release their bowels.' By which, seemingly, they mean the birds and not the unfortunate couple they are, allegedly, 'terrorising'.
This blogger does not wish to alarm anyone unnecessarily but
From The North's advice to
all dear blog fiends is to take extra-special care when you're opening
any letters you might get.
This, from
The Times - yes, that's
The Times - seems to be what constitutes 'news' these days. It's that time of the year, seemingly, where there is no news only that there
is no news. And, that it's (more-often-than-not) hot and it'll (more-often-than-not) be getting much hotter.
The next one is for all dear blog fiends who, like this blogger,
believe tennis is a right load of old Middle Class shit.
And
this one is for all dear blog readers who may, like this blogger,
feel all Tesla owners are a bunch of Middle Class hippy Communist Gruniad Morning Star reading, vegan quiche-eating wankers.
If
this had been shown on
Appointment With Fear on 18 October 1974 instead of
Dracula Has Risen from the Grave, this blogger wonders how different his life would've been. Actually, probably not
that different, if he's being honest. Like The Count his very self, Keith Telly Topping has always been a lovely little mover when he gets his funk right on. And on that bombshell ...
Finally ... Yes Hits Radio, yes, this blogger
really is ready to 'supercharge [his] wee.' For, whom amongst us is not? Stay safe from the heat (and the enormous venomous spiders) dear blog fiends.
First up, there has to be - obviously - the semi-regular From The North weather report from The Stately Telly Topping Manor. It's been aal ower the little-shoppe-of-horrors of late, dear blog reader. Well, what the Hell else did you expect? This is, after all, an English summer, manifest strangeness is only to be expected in such times.
Albeit, there have been more than a few occasions recently where this blogger has found it extremely necessary to, ahem, 'keep it cool' within The Stately Telly Topping Manor whilst going about his (entirely lawful) daily business. 
Oftentimes, it's simply too damned hot, dear blog fiends. And the drums never cease. 
♣♠♥♦ 'Pick a card. Any card. Wrong!' 'That was 'Jacket Hangs' by The Blue Aeroplanes at number twenty eight, pop-pickers, what did you think of that chartbound sound, Roy?' 'They've certainly got dedication, Fluff.' 'Not 'alf. Next 'Don't Fear The Reaper'. Over to you, Doctor Schreck ... ' ♣♠♥♦. 
Of course, the really, really really mega-big, absolutely-ginormous-in-the-area, definitely-maybe news to have occurred since last this blogger did blog (like a big ... blogging thing) has been From The North favourites, Them There Oasis, playing their first rock and/or roll jiggs since 2009. Not entirely unexpectedly, dear blog fiends, there hs been plenty of crass sneering from all of the usual suspects. And a plethora of atypical 'oh, I never liked them when they were going first time around and I want to tell everyone that'll listen (and, indeed, anyone that won't) all about this since it's vitally important that you all hear what I have to say on the subject. Can I have a medal for my glorious self-sacrifice in this regard?' nonsense. From, inevitably, Middle Class hippy Communist Gruniad Morning Star reading, vegan quiche-eating wazzocks. They're quite a sight, so they are. Haters gonna hate, dear blog readers, it's a bit of a universal constant. Just like gravity. Or, indeed, gravy for that matter. 'I need to be myself, I can't be no one else.' This blogger's considered review of the start of the tour, in Cardiff? He thought it was fookin' great. And, he is, of course, a highly respected best-selling author, journalist and broadcaster, dear blog fiends, so you should probably take at least a little bit of notice of what he has to say on the subject! Or not, it's still a free country - for the moment. 
As for all of the crass, sneering Middle Class hippy Communist Gruniad Morning Star reading, vegan quiche-eating wazzocks, dear blog reader, this blogger has but one, simple, message for posterity to send in their general direction. Stick that in yer vegan-non-leather manbag along with your Waitrose fair-trade brown-bread-and-green-stuff sandwiches and your bottle of ethically-sourced mango pop and your bloody unlistenable Mumford & Sons CD. Where were you while we were getting high? Here endeth the lecture. 
Following getting all that off this blogger's forty six inch chest, we have the first in what may be a new semi-regular series, the From The North Word Of The Day. Accurate. 
So, have a look if you will at this here face, dear blog fiends. Absolutely slappable, isn't it? But, anyway, That Face is one you sometimes see when one has just done the weekly shopping, needed to spend thirty five knicker or more to get some bonus points on ones in-store card and the total bill comes in at £35.08. To be fair, it could also be That Face when one has just trodden in something extremely nasty, this blogger could go either way on that one. Keith Telly Topping also grovelingly apologises for the right 'orrible state of his hair in this photographic representation, but it was quite windy up Shields Road on that particular day. That's this blogger's excuse, dear fiends and he is thoroughly sticking to it. 
Let us, therefore, kick-off this From The North update with the latest in a jolly long line of 'I Will Not Celebrate Meaningless Milestones' blog moments. 
From The North recently received its fifteen millionth page-hit since records began (2006). Which, presumably, means that at least one dear bloggerisationism fiend has been visiting here for the last nineteen years, several-dozen times per day, in the vague hope of finding some pornography hereabouts. Sorry for fifteen million bitter disappointments, whomsoever you actually are. And whilst we're about it, put it away, you're impressing no one.
The blog's recent activity (one extremely curious day in mid-May aside) continues to hover around the five-to-eight thousand daily page-hits - as this visual representation demonstrates. 
Moving on, quickly, from all of this appalling self-aggrandisement to Monday of this very week, dearest blog fiends, when this blogger had his latest monthly 'let's do lunch'-type summit with the legend that is this blogger's close personal fiend, Young Malcolm. Here was the place where this meeting-of-minds went down (a new venue to both of us, as it happens - and really jolly nice it was too).
