Shotgun Holidays!

Yes!!

It's that time of year where Team Shotgun put down their axes, shutdown their creative minds and inform their parole officers/rehab centre that they are going to be unwinding for a week or two and with any luck coming back home feeling rested and bronzed of skin and possibly sporting a sombrero or sexually transmitted disease.

So perched over a map of our glorious planet we truly had the world at our calling.

The names of exotic locations danced off the page, teasing with a beautiful grace. But as with all things in life it really comes down to budget. So having excited the senses and perhaps installed false hope of jetting off to some sun drenched island, I finally announced our location as the Isle of Wight, just a few miles south of Portsmouth just off the A3.

Hours later after the paramedics had finally removed the laptop from my skull I tried to put a bright spin on it.

"It involves getting on a boat, so its kind of like a cruise, except we get to take our car, which almost makes it a hybrid cruise/fly-drive holiday, minus the flying........."

Fortunately the paramedics were only parked outside eating their sandwiches and didn't have to travel from to far away to administer the CPR.

Eventually I talked sense into my most dearest and she finally succumb to the notion of spending sometime on an Isle that is reachable by even an asthmatic child in a dingy, but still, researching on the internet had delivered exciting tourist adverts involving chines and needles (gashes in the landscape and pointing outcrops at sea) - I spoke lively about a chilli and garlic farm we could visit and was rewarded with a look that could have felled an elephant.

She seemed elated, in a nonchalant kind of way.

"So where are we staying?" she asked.

I announced the name of the caravan park and watched in terror as she manhandled the 50' TV from the wall and launched it at me as if it was a toy truck and she was man-child with a serious case of alien hand syndrome. It probably wasn't the name of the park that did it but the mere mention of the words "caravan park".

The next day, after enough sedatives in her to keep her pacified and dribbling at the car window, we arrived at the park, and having checked in with a devoted iPhone using admin girl we were pointed in the rough direction of our Chalet.

Now to those that are of the trusting ilk, such as myself, you would envision a holiday chalet a kind of cosy but smaller version of a bungalow, quaint but homely, perhaps some flowers growing up the side? Instead we were greeted by an exact replica of an Afghan mountain side hut that has just been blessed with an informal introduction to a Predator drone and its entire payload.
The door all but fell off when opened and the smell that emanated had me wondering what room the I'd find the mutilated remains of a hooker in.  In a screech of burning rubber we head back to reception. The sedatives had worn off the missues at this point and I suddenly wished for either a tranquilizer gun or a way of pre-warning  the receptionist of her impending demise.

Moments later out steps the missues, a smile to her face and a lack of blood on her hands. She spun a new set of keys on her finger and announced that we had been upgraded. My first thought was along the lines of wondering what could be a possible upgraded to? An abattoir? A Slovakian torture house for budding snuff movie producers? But no, it seems the upgrade levels were steep, in that we found ourselves in a light and airy caravan. Now normally I scoff at caravans but as mentioned, this was a budget holiday owing to the fact I had just spent all my wages on a new guitar amp....

And so, some time on the Isle of Wight has provided to be quite pleasant. I wasn't shanked by an escape con called Gummy and I didn't find any rashes on my body after sleeping in the remarkably white bed of the caravan.

Henchman Smith on the other hand is currently cruising through Europe with the family of his Czech girlfriend (and his girlfriend, otherwise that would be weird). As to whether he has been sold to a boy-hungry group of fishermen remains to be seen, but I've no doubt that on his return that he will regale you with news of his trip.

Once Team Shotgun are fully back in the basking rain of Kent and enjoying the fresh smell of raw sewage as it pumps without fault onto our beaches- we will give you some real blog info, including (and not limited to) our new drummer and his uncanny ability to have hair so neat that it defies the laws of nature .

With love and hugs,

Team Shotgun.

How to Make Football More Interesting.....

It's the Euros, and here at Team Shotgun we like to support our boys as they play in the tournaments. We like to blast out vuvuzela's in the faces of kindly old folk that look concerned when we burst into their retirement home with our entire bodies painted in the England colours.

We will drink until our piss is frothy and our eyes our more red than a glue sniffers.

We will cheer until our throats feel like they are wrapped in barbed wire and the riot police are called out.

However there is one thing that drives us up the wall and has us baying for blood.

And that is the dramas on the pitch that comes with every tackle or accidental clash.

This year I am sure it is a tournament to show off who can look the most wounded at every given moment…

Seriously, I was watching the Czech’s vs. Greece the other night and I went from being intrigued as to who would go through to the next round to being mesmerised as to how a professional athlete on the world stage can clatter to the ground with as much grace as a wheelchair rolling down a set of stairs and not hang his head in shame.

I started wondering if these overpaid soap actors truly are phobic of being touched in any shape or form. Perhaps at home their sex lives involve looking at their partner from behind a Perspex screen and yanking one out in a Midnight Express kind of way?

How the fuck do these guys walk around in a public place? How do they handle meeting people? I imagine that when a group of fans come cheering and wanting to shake their teams hands that they have to beat a quick retreat as their heroes lay semi slain on the floor, withering around with pained expressions that a victim of a clumsy sniper might display after a gut shot….I can imagine all those fans that eagerly wanted to meet the team -running away like cockroaches under a light when they realise that they’ve patted the backs of their favourite players to hard…..

Professional boxers….could you imagine a similar display in the ring? Fights wouldn’t last more than 7 seconds.

So here are some bullet points for FIFA and UEFA to review at their next board meeting, bullet points that could remove the theatricals….

• Landmines under the pitch that are activated upon large impact, i.e full body contact to ground after needless dive.
• Explosive collars like in the Running Man that activate when in a blatant offside position
• Timer activated Flame Throwers at the edge of the pitch to ensure time wasting with throw-ins is eliminated.
• Areas of the pitch that fall away to a spikey death if footballers tit around in their own half passing it back and forth when there is no threat, you look like cunts when you do this.
• Hungry lions and tigers released onto the pitch if it goes into extra time, if you haven’t won after 90 minutes, well you deserve to be eaten.
• During half time the crowd get to vote on the most useless player from the previous half and get to throw stones at said player as he is made to do a lap around the edge of the pitch.
• The dug out should be a proper dug out that can be flooded if illogical strategies and substitutions are made.
• A large blimp above the stadium slowly releases molten metal if the crowd deems the game to be boring.
• If representing your country you score an own goal, the guilty party is put leg first through a wood chipper.        
• Goalkeepers that make exaggerated hand gestures as if signally that the rest of his team are at fault for his butter fingered mistakes should be tied to a post and subjected to a every member of the team kicking him repeatedly in the scrote.
• Haircuts should be manly- any haircut that requires the aid of a hairband on the top of the head or looks like it has been styled before kick off by a professional should be burnt off by the referee with a disposable lighter and a can of hairspray.
• At half time the players should be tasered until they are fully recharged and ready to go.
• Substitutions should be based on which player wins a knife fight on the side lines.
• Players that repeatedly miss the target by a country mile have to see if they can outrun a fly-by-wire RPG.
•  Celebrations after scoring should be a simple gesture of crossing your arms above your head to signify allegiance with your country. Any other celebration will be deemed an insult to your country and will result in a Ford Transit full of Albanians bursting onto a pitch, abducting you and sending live streaming footage to the big screens of your torture. (Somersaults are permitted as they look cool)
•  Commentators are allowed to swear.
•  Linesman are allowed to brandish a handgun. Players that dispute a linesman/referees decision are liable to being gunned down.
•  Players will no longer earn more money in a week than I would earn in well over a decade of hard work, you are privileged to play for your country, yet you lack the intelligence to even spell country-  you drive a Bentley, you are fucking a glamour model which together gives you a combines IQ of 17 and you have the charisma and likability of a Joseph Fritlz at a a DIY seminar entitled “Basements, How to Clad The Walls”, you are not worthy of 200k plus a week. You will be paid based on the amount of goals you defend or score per game, zero of either will result in payment of the free oranges you will receive at half time, your bus fare is deducted from this orange payment, so technically, you owe oranges to your country.

And there you have it, it may seem harsh, but we are living in a world where video games consist of slowing down time as you shoot someone repeatedly in the face or carjacking is as simple as pressing a button. The general tolerance to violence is high. Only MP’s that are getting sucked off by a one-legged hooker or media outlets that hack your phones will protest against this lapse in human decency. So we must surely be on a path where we can watch game shows where people contend to win money and their life. Let’s start with football.

Survival Tips From The Headquarters of the Shotgun Junkies

Survival Tips From The Headquarters of the Shotgun Junkies

*Stop*

*You may be in terrible danger of becoming a victim of a Zombie attack/mutation.*

*Please read the following to ensure safety and tips on how to to survive the outbreak* 

       Dear reader, 

Well done on finding this most important guide to surviving the onslaught of a zombie apocalypse.

Here you will find some practical advice on how to keep your diet brain free (unless dietary requirements state otherwise). 

 We've all seen the news recently. Naked attacks where faces are eaten.

Miami Zombie Outbreak - Stage 1 

Terrifying I think you'll agree. 

But do not fear, for although a Zombie Outbreak may inadvertently wipe out most of your friends and family you can rest assured that there is a glimmer of hope for your survival.

So lets get started. 

How do we retain the look on the left over the look on the right?

Here you will find important steps:

Ok, so your at home enjoying a toasted sandwich, your phone rings. You pick it up and speak the English standard of  telephony linguistics of "Hello?"

You are greeted by the sound of slobbering, growling and in the background some screaming, some sirens. You assume it to be your mother having accidentally called you from her latest movie shoot "Milfy & the Beast". You hangup.

A news flash suddenly interrupts Loose Woman and you are greeted by the gaunt and concerned face of a newsreader. The newsreader conveys the message that an outbreak of a new strain of virus with various numbers and letters in the name is spreading faster than scientists had expected. 

Expect the virus to be scientifically known as something like "YRHJ-11 strain" but made more media friendly and potent sounding such as the "Fury Outbreak" or something similar.

So there you are, you've just watched a new flash that has confirmed your fears that you'd one day witness a zombie apocalypse. What the hell do you do next?

Well, here is a quick check list of what to get packed in a large sports bag (not so large that it's like a body bag though)

Stage One- Preparation: 

Remember, you may confined to your house for an indefinite amount of time.

• Get your doors and windows locked
• Get yourself the large sports bag as mentioned above
• Grab all canned food types from cupboards
• Grab all cereal types and put them into airtight sandwich bags (do not take fresh meats or yogurts)
• Acquire as many bottles of water, use old bottles if needed. (Ensure water supplies are not contaminated)
• Batteries! Get them from every device in your home and put these also in a tight sealing bag 

Note: You may need to barricade your windows and doors, using wardrobes and sofas are perfectly good at this, as are internal doors and bed frames, assuming its wood/metal.

Stage Two -Arming Yourself:

Okay, so you have your food stuffs, you have water. You're locked snugly in your house. So what's next? Well what if you live in what we call the "Red Zone" where the outbreak is at its most prolific or just outside of the "Red Zone", you can't sit tight waiting for your doors and windows to implode and let those zombie bastards dine out on you likes some sort of cannibal buffet can you now.

It's time to get the hardware and in most houses you can find the following instruments for your protection, feel free to use artist creation as you wish, but just remember, a claw hammer is going to be more effective than say a framed picture of Celine Dion.

Here are a few suggestions:

• A hammer
• A large knife (butter knives are no good here)
• A shovel (perfect for distance bludgeoning and beheading
• A baseball bat (soft foam versions will not work as well and may expend much needed energy)
• A garden fork (dining forks are a no no here)
• A length of wood (a good sturdy piece of timber is recommended, again this is a crude implement, feel free to add nails into the killing end)
• A crowbar
• A chainsaw (this is more suited to those that are not weak stomached)

Note: These are close combat weapons and can prove to be a little to close for comfort when attempting to render a zombie void.

Now your fully armed, its time to know your zombie kill spots and points of interest.

Take a look at the following picture and remember these key areas:

The head is the optimum kill area, destroy the head and these human meat chomping mother fuckers will be nothing more than fly food.

Note: Owning a gun is a more efficient and cleaner way of disposing of the undead, methods using home found crude weapons will render your clothes in a state of disrepair. Best not to wear any items that you intend on wearing after the outbreak on a date or to a job interview.

The knee caps are not a kill spot but they do make things highly entertaining. Take the knees out on one of these bad boys and hilarity ensues! It won't make their appetite for your brains recede but it will make if possible to have some much needed amusement as you let them crawl up to you and then walk a good 10 metres behind them, once you are done with this entertainment, drive a well aimed shoved through their skull.

So, really the head is the only spot worth targeting, unless of course the constant slaughter of your zombiefied humans has taken its toll on you and you're getting experimental. 

Top Tip: Why not try attacking the spine, this can have some interesting results.

Stage 3 - Surviving the Nights

Okay, so you've bagged some of your neighbours and even made an unscheduled visit to your old drummers house just because you got a little bit carried away- what is the next step?

Well unless you are fortunately enough to live in either an airship/ your own tropical island/ a fortress/ or the moon- if the virus is as volatile as we fear, then you're eventually going to have to vacate your home and get the hell out of here.

• A good supply of fuel in your vehicle is beneficial
• A reliable car is most important (there is no point taking your nans Ford Cortina)
• Load the car with the supplies as per stage one
• Check oil levels of car
• Check radio works and try locating a channel that can provide updates

So now you need to plan where to go.

Do you go where there are more people/refugees? Nope, an outbreak in a refugee camp would spread like wildfire and you'd be wondering where it all went wrong as your liver is being stripped out and eaten by an old girlfriend.

Think of a place where the zombies won't stroll into, Lets face it, the virus spread quickly through the cities and towns because of the close proximity of human congregation. So a city is out.

The woods? Possibly, it would have to be off the beaten track and a good distance from the nearest town/village/road.You'd have the bonus of being completely off the radar and the chances of someone stumbling across you would be slim. However you have the cost of having to be aware of 360 degrees of attack and plus the woods can be creepy as fuck at time, so choose wisely. On the plus side, woodland creatures and streams could be a good source of food and water. Be mindful of contamination in fresh water supplies.

A beach? Choose a good spot in a remote location, there is no point in setting up a camp on Margate sea front.

A remote beach will give you access to fish stock for food and unless the zombies can mount a beachhead invasion, well you've only got to cover 180 degrees of area. Fresh air and a potential rescue is a bonus but don't trust anyone, they might just be after your water/weapons etc......

A mountain? Quite a good idea, fresh mountain water is a win win situation, but the thin air and the weather could really ruin it for you. Zombies won't be able to catch a whiff of you so you'd be pretty safe, and if they did stumble up your mountain, well you have the upper ground. 

A Supermarket? Hmmm, not the best of idea, the place would no doubt harbour unwanted attention, from undead shopper to hungry folk that will kill to get that last tin of chickpeas from the shelf.

It's a tough call, go with your gut feeling and not on your personal favourite, after all, this is a game of survival and not a Kodak moment. 

Remember, you're looking to survive for as long as possible!

You will have to scavenge and pillage your way to survival, its a tough way to live and you will probably have no choice but to kill or be killed.

A hard choice is whether to keep moving or to stay put. In times of inactivity becomes complacency, this is when you will be at your most vulnerable.

*Following the above may or may not help you in the outbreak.*

We hope this guide helps.....

Be safe, Team Shotgun

Skylines & Shotgun Trails

Skylines & Shotgun Trails

Dear Stupid Fucking Weather,

This just won't do anymore. 

 31 years on this planet and year after year all I look forward to is a summer where I can feel the warmth on my skin and perhaps enjoy my garden without the fear of being washed away in the fucking tsunami of pissing rain that is seemingly relentless.

Sure the water companies have bitched about droughts and issued hosepipe bans, but sweet fucking Lord, soon we will be issued with a shit load of towels and sandbags if this continues.

It's June, I really shouldn't have to be planning my trip to work to include a frantic phone call and subsequent rescue from the fucking coastguard.

Whilst we're at it, Winter, why can't we just have a decent snow period between December and say February where our little island becomes a brief winter wonderland? Hmmm? This slushy, unsledgeable crap you toss at us is no good for anything other than closing down public transport systems, I mean look at the Rusky, those bastards can have a 7ft snow fall and they don't have any issues getting to a Starbucks. 

This is the last year, the last damn year that I will wear my frogman outfit in June, if by May of 2013 I see no inspiring weather, well I'll be getting the fuck out of here, I'm thinking Guam or Mongolia, somewhere where I get either the best or the worst of the weather but at least I will be able to pack my clothes accordingly.

Team Shotgun.

Meet The Band

!Meet The Band!

Welcome, and well done for getting here! I know what a minefield of shit the Internet can be, and no doubt you had multiple unscheduled stops at Porn Junction, Asian Bride Common and Cheap Viagra Park.

I suspect that you're feeling exhausted with it all and at the end of your tiring journey you just want to retire to a comfy seat and watch the college hottie neighbour tanning herself....

Well sit tight friends, put your tissues back in the box and that hand cream back in your girlfriend/wifes/mums handbag before she notices and get ready to be introduced to a group of really nice chaps. 

I think you'll agree that these guys are everything and more than what you'd expect of this hardworking, God fearing, adorable collection of human DNA. 

So lets jump straight in and introduce our first member of the Shotgun Junkies.

Come on down! 

 

Henchman Smith

Henchman Smith. The elusive and retiring bassist/guitarist.

He originates from Planet Thanet and is educated to a secondary school standard, which is quite remarkable as he had further education at college and managed to pick up an A Level in music.

Age: Twenty something

Favourite Film: I Spit On Your Grave

Favourite Scent: Cut Grass & Red Diesel

Favourite Holiday Destination: Ascension Island

Last Expensive Purchase: A Soda Stream

Character Most Similar To:  Vlad the Impaler

So what is the real Henchman Smith like?

 He is just like you, except he hates other humans and has zero tolerance towards butterflies and will wear smart shoes with any outfit. 

There's nothing wrong with smart shoes?

Is that a statement or a question?

A question?

Well no you're right, there is nothing wrong with smart shoes, but you asked what he was like and I was merely pointing out that he is known for his smart shoes.

Oh I see, does he have an important job then?

Very important, he makes sure that the dishes are clean in a pub.

So he is the first line of defence against bacteria?

That's right, in fact most shifts he wears a suit similar to the Ghostbusters, however he doesn't use a proton pack like they do in the film, he uses a 12 gauge shotgun.

Isn't that dangerous?

Only if you're a bacteria. Or if you insist on looking him in the eyes. Or if you wear a roll neck jumper. Or he happens to be having one of those days where unloading deer slugs at a cowering work colleague seems the right thing to do. 

He sounds kind of crazy doesn't he?

Not at all. For one thing, a crazy person can't car surf their own car at 70mph through a pedestrian area. That's the work of someone that is fully focus. A crazy person would fall right off.

No that's crazy?

I beg to differ. He can recognise the payload being dropped onto middle eastern villages just by the sound of the explosion.

Wow, that's....kind of impressive. 

I agree, in fact he is experimenting at home with his own brand of warheads.

Hold up, did you you just say he is making his own warheads?

I don't think I said that.

No you did, you most certainly did!

Look, if he catches wind of you blurting that out then you can expect to find yourself gaffer taped to the front end of a Rover 75 and used as a fleshy battering-ram against an Oddbins window.

Sweet Lord, shouldn't we inform the police?

He is a patriot. He is a lone warrior, and the last person that mentioned the police woke up hog tied in a ditch after a brutal and impromptu horse assault.

Horse assault?

You ever seen a fire extinguisher smashed into a polo?

*The sound of vomiting is heard*

 Cheeseman, a bassist/drummer and recently a father. 

Yes, the man that was once dubbed as "The Letterbox Pisser" on Crime Watch has finally joined the ranks of the rest of the humans around him

Age: Twenty eight???

Favourite Film: Debbie Does Dallas

Favourite Scent:Fear

Favourite Holiday Destination:Chernobyl

Last Expensive Purchase:Industrial Size Box of Nappies

Character Most Similar To: R2D2

So tell, is Cheese really as happy as he looks in every picture?

I can confirm this to be true, although you may see it as happy, the rest of band see it as "confused". It's like a reflex mechanism, you ask him to play say a "G" on the bass, and he will offer you the smile as he will not understand the instruction. It makes him appear genuinely nice, but in actual fact it has caused the equivalent of many a bar room brawl in the studio.

Are you suggesting he doesn't know how to play the bass?

Not at all, in fact as bass players go, he is probably the most solid bassist around.

But you just said......

Shut up. Next question.

What does Cheese do for fun when he isn't with the band?

I can tell you now that Cheese is a total cu....fun guy. Most nights he can be found chasing the moths in his house in the hope of catching them and sedating them with dry ice, then he will paint military markings on their little wings and re-enact famous dog fights.

That's interesting, is he a war buff?

No he just likes to make the plane noise as they feverishly try and escape. 

You've witnesses this?

Yes, just the other day a moth with Swastikas on its wings flew around the room in a panic as he fired off a Glock 9mm at it. 

That's not a dog fight. How did it end?

It was a dog fight, but the moth with the British RAF markings stupidly skull fucked itself on the light bulb so Cheese played the role of anti-aircraft battery.

Doesn't he live in a flat with people above him and to the side?

Yep, but they just refer to their bullet wounds as "Cheesy boo boos"

Cheesy boo boos?

That's correct. Its because of that fucking smile.

Oh so he defuses the situation by smiling?

No he just aims the Glock at their face and smiles, most people then just become curtain twitchers as oppose to witnesses in a crown court, its a harsh lesson that most neighbours of his will learn.

But nice guy all-round?

Cracking bloke. He also delivers Chinese food.

That's quite a revelation, does he take it seriously?

The body count and endless speed camera tickets would suggest he does. 

What nights does he do it?

Depends on the demand, all I will say is if you hear helicopters and sirens, don't leave your house and make sure you've locked the dog in.

 Dan Kamikaze, the enigma. The driving force behind so many band break-ups.

A movie buff, a potential superhero, an artist in every sense of the word. Loved by some, hated by most. He's chiseled  good looks have attracted the attention of the worlds media and blood diamond miners.

Age: Thirty one

Favourite Film: Sisterhood

Favourite Scent:Aviation Fuel, New Tennis Ball

Favourite Holiday Destination: Downtown Baghdad

Last Expensive Purchase:A Bronze Statue of Megan Fox with drilled out fun holes

Character Most Similar To: Glenn Quagmire

So, tell me, Dan sees himself as the artists-artist.What does that mean exactly?

Dan believes that he could fling shit up a wall and sell it. He has also attempted this.

That's a brash statement isn't it?

It is, but it's more a way of making himself feel better with his failures.

What failures?

A certain failure in the shape of a human slug.

Oh you mean.......

Shhh....we don't mention that thing anymore.

Wow, I never knew that.  So how does he still find the motivation to do this?

He doesn't. He likes the idea of being a successful musician. These days he is driven by his hatred towards the music scene in the UK

That's a strange reason to continue right?

Indeed, I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled out a Magnum at a gig and started taking shots at anyone on the crowd.

He made the statement, and I quote "With a face like mine the clunge comes leaping at me like a face hugger from the film Aliens"- that seems both crude and bold wouldn't you say?

Not at all, at one gig some old bint flung her bloomers at him and asked him to sign her colostomy bag.

That doesn't paint the same kind of image as the statement he made about clunge leaping at him does it?

Well no, but you have to understand that he has to respect the privacy of those top shelf birds that want him so badly.

Is that a fib?

........no...next question please. And someone get me a glass of water.

Ok, Is it true that he can juggle?

........What?

Sorry, wrong interview sheet. Ok, so what is Dan's plan with the Shotgun Junkies?

I think the goal is to actually do something positive.

Isn't that the goal of every band?

I guess so....

So that was a stupid answer really wasn't it?

I'm sorry. Hold on, fuck you!

Moving on, when can we expect to see the band live in action?

Well, Angie has recently married and is going back to Russia where she will become the housewife of a bear wrestler. So a slight readjustment is happening in which Cheese will take up the position of the drums, Hen will go back to the bass and Dan will do what ever he does.

Wait, why am I only finding this out now? If I knew that I would have asked different questions, can we start again?

Nope.

They're right, you are a git

This interview is over.

*The sound of scuffling and violence is heard*

So there you have folks. You now know that little bit more than before about Team Shotgun and the Junkies. 

We hope you feel closer to the boys than you did prior to reading this blog. And remember, they may have the tendencies to throat punch strangers that ask questions but don't be shy to ask them (from a safe distance) when and where they are playing next.

Look out for next weeks blog entitled "Things That Go Funk In The Night" an article by Cheese that explains he's passion for dancing to 70's disco in the middle of the night.

I'm Jessie Pilchard, and this has been an exclusive interview with the Shotgun Junkies.

The World of Fine Foods

I don't know about you but my day just isn't complete without having had at the least a bowl of mixed olives.

I think I can speak exclusively on the subject of Olives as I am an avid fan of the delicious little bastards, I mean, I just have to have some every day, be it pulped into my yoghurt or the oil injected directly into my blood stream, I just can't go without them.

A few years back I couldn't stand them. Actually that's a lie. I couldn't stand the look of them, they always had the look of the kind of Nescafe soaked pile that you shit out in a time of crisis and also I had a deeply ingrained phobia of them which stemmed from some foreign part of my conscious mind but I am not sure why.
And then, suddenly, in a Pizzaria in London I just started consuming them as if some glutenous beast had awoken within me and craved them like Godzilla craves the soft fleshy bodies of the startled looking actors.

Now I get olives on such a frequent level that I have developed an almost critique obligation to ridicule restaurant served olives that are not fresh.

One day I would like to own an olive plantation - in point of fact, I now have at home a very small olive tree in a pot, more of an olive sprout but I intend to be able to harvest my own crop of olives within the next 150 years.

Other accompaniments and condiments of my dinner table and frequently on my plate is Lime Pickle and Encona Pepper Sauce.

A quick and easy combination that has be moaning with pleasure these days is:

A Jacket Potato with grated cheese, some salad with olives and balsamic vinegar and a tea spoon of Lime Pickle dumped onto top the tubba.....for a real blend of spice, why not also add a dash of Encona Pepper sauce for that extra kick.

Another salivating delight that I like to indulge in is, and this is more suited for a females diet but what the hell, I discovered this by pure accident is:

Original Rivita's with some mature cheddar cheese, some salad with olives and balsamic vinegar and table spoon of Lime Pickle just dumped into this melee of food. Tuck in with your fingers and don't be scared to get covered in oils and crumbs.

Why not perk up this little gem with a splash of Encona pepper sauce, your love the zesty Lime taste and the complimenting Encona Pepper Sauce will have you truly thinking that your sitting on the shore of a West Indian Beach.

And there you have it, some delightful recipes ideas, some background on my passion to get olives and a genuinely good bowel cleaner.

This is Team Shotguns Blog of the Week.

Look out next week for Henchman Smiths Blog on aviation wonders.

Have a super day!

Shotgun Junkies Home Page

And remember, don't add to much Encona or this may happen:

Competition: A member of the Shotgun Junkies is in this picture, but which member is it?!

The Little Chef & The Band

Hungry were we.

All three of us.

But here and now, only 2 of the 3 sat in the car just outside of the Little Chef restaurant, pondering on the choice of offerings to be presented to us.

It intensified their pains.

"I can't survive much longer" whimpers McCheeze who is slumped across the back seats, he's hands clasped to his stomach.

"It will not be long my friend" offers Dan, his mighty jaw line seemingly cut from granite and looking like a poster campaign for a new aftershave branded 'Fister'.

McCheeze moans a little more at the thought of enduring any further torment.  

The passenger door bursts open. The rain that up to this point hadn't been mentioned, lashes down, on the windows and now with the door open sounds even more torrential.

"I found 47p in gutters" blurts a saturated and shivering Henchman as he jumps into the warmth of the car.

McCheeze offers his own torrent of rain in the form of tears. Hen reaches back and strokes McCheeze's weeping head and soothes him "It's okay Squeezy, I'm sure something good will come of this. 

A flash of lightning ignites the sky like a blitzing from the Russian military.

Thunder, full of anger bellows instantly, rocking the car with its ferocious roar.

The windscreen wipers fight a losing battle against the onslaught of rain.

Suddenly a gentle knocking startles the occupants.

Outside a figure is swaying in the wind.

"Don't let them in, they could be organ harvesters from Eastern Europe" whispers Hen.

"What the fu....." replies Dan, his mighty jaw and intense stare now pivoting towards the entity that had tapped into the window of the world of these three gentle'folk.

Dan reaches for the button to roll down the window. As it inches down the rain rushes into the car, striking his handsome face and making him even more crushingly attractive.

"We're doomed" squeaks the prone McCheeze"

The window is now fully open, but with the relentless rain they still can’t see this stranger fully.

Suddenly a gust of wind blasts across the rain swept car park, it lifts the outside stranger up and into the car via the now open window.

The Henchman screams with all the velocity of an Exocet missile as this new and strange person lands across his and Dan's lap.

This new person does not speak. She merely lays across Dan and The Henchman's; seemingly oblivious or drunk to the melee and confusion she has just caused.

On her back a note: "My name is Angie, follow me to food"  Around her ankle is a length of string.

"Oh God, it's a trap" screams The Henchman, his hysteria reaching a new height as he pulls at his own hair in nervous anxiety.

"I.......I.......I don't think we have a choice" speaks Dan in a calm manner that could settle the nerves of a death row inmate that is seconds from being fried alive.

The Henchman looks at Dan with saucer eyes; he then looks back to McCheeze who is seemingly slipping in and out of a coma.

The Henchman gulps. "Ok, I trust your judgement" he says to Dan.

Dan's head moves slowly and purposefully, his face expression never changing from the look of intensity that he has primed on his face- even when he sleeps.

"It's been an honour serving with you" speaks Dan. A small smile appears on Dan's face, only for a split second before it is gone.

They exit the car. The rain beats a tattoo onto their bodies. McCheeze is assisted by The Henchman.

Dan holds the string around Angies ankle tight in his hand and then pulls Angie from the car.

The wind whips across the car park and Angie's is yanked from Dan's hand.

Like a kite that has  an afterburner, she heads in the direction of the Little Chef. With the string quickly running out of slack Dan quickly realises what is about to happen.

"Oh shhhhhiii..." he yells in a manly and cool way before being dragged off as if having been tethered to the payload end of an RPG. He is dragged across the car park as Angie rushes ever onward with the wind.

The Henchman carries McCheeze with all the speed he can muster in the direction that Dan has been dragged to.

--

With his jeans now torn in all the right places and his hair, even though wet, still perfect, Dan rises from the floor carefully, noticing that he is no longer outside.

At a table in front of him sits Angie. Her face offering an expression of revelation.  Dan breathes heavily and takes in the surroundings. He is in the Little Chef.

The entrance door bursts open, the outside wind and rain howling momentarily before the door settles back to its closed position.

"Dan, what did she do to you?" screams a breathless Henchman, McCheeze slumped across his shoulder.

"It's ok; I think.......I think this was fate, all of this"

And with that, the camera pans out, McCheeze suddenly comes round, the subtle odours of the restaurant pulling him from his hunger related coma....

With his eyes glaze over McCheeze looks at the interior of this motorway restaurant whispers "It's beautiful"

The three men look at the prone Angie, she has said nothing. Asked for nothing. Yet she has saved these lone warriors in a time of need.

In front of Angie is a laptop computer, Dan nods an appreciation to Angie and then joins her at the table, he looks at the computer, his eyes scanning the screen. He looks up with dignity.

"Boys......I think we have our drummer".

The camera pans out further. A plate each with a full English breakfast for the three weary but now humbled men arrives in unison. They eat in silence, with only the occasional look to Angie who says nothing. She just watches. Unflinchingly. Unquestionably.

Soon with the food finished and each member looking positively revived, Dan stands up with a look of importance. The diner goes silent.

The other patrons stop chewing their food and look over with anxious apprehension.

"From this day on.........we are.........The Shotgun Junkies"

And with this announcement the entire diner erupts into rapturous applause. The band stand together for the first time as a new unit. They high five and then embrace in a manly way.

Then they turn and hoist up Angie onto their shoulders, the cheering from the diner patrons reaches a new level as she is proudly displayed for all to see.

The camera pans out further before freeze framing on the band, their faces of elation.

The theme to Rocky blasts in.

A new chapter is written. And this crowd of four are writing every page.

How Did We Get Here?

"It's going well wouldn't you say?" I asked Cheese. He nodded his large head sagely like a cartoon donkey. I too nod.
The handcuffs on our wrists and our geographical location being in a police car did little to hinder our satisfactions.

Cheese looked up slowly -"I think the explosion was a bit much though"
Dan instantly having to suppress the desire to protest just nods a robotic nod.

"Suppose it will be prison time again" sighed Cheese.
"S'pose" replies Dan.

A silence blankets the two men. Dan looks out to the forensic team and detectives combing the area and Cheese watches with a mild interest at the fire crew that are rendering the flames null and securing the area.

"I wonder if I'll need to make a shiv again" speaks Dan, more as a mechanism to break the silence rather than pose a genuine question.

"Hmmmm" replies Cheese.

"Bloody good track though" pips Dan, deterring the subject with the evasiveness of a fighter jet that is being pursued by a hot air balloon.

"Oh an absolute corker" beams Cheese.

"Hen and Angie really need to have some input on this one, assuming we ever get bailed" says Dan, ever the optimist.

"I think this could be classed as an act of terrorism" is the knowledgeable advice from Cheese.

"Fucking red tape in this country eh?" replies Dan, catching his own charred reflection in the interior mirror, his face blackened from the blast, his hair covered in a dusty debris.

Another silence descends before Cheese states "I think we need to get our stories straight here because I'm not entirely sure I know what happened"

"Me too my friend me too" whispers Dan, his gaze glazing over as he tries to recall the events that led them to this confined space.

A pause of substantial length.

"Well?" snaps Cheese, the tolerance gone in an instant.

"I honestly don't know what to tell you, one minute we were mixing the bass and guitar on the track and then kaboom!" replied Dan.

The passenger door suddenly flies open and an officer of senior years pops his capped head in.

"You boys are in a lot of trouble, probably best you tell me now where you got the Semtex", the officers looks to each of the band members.

And in unison they reply: "Semtex", and with that knowledge they settle back into their seats and let the silence envelope them again.