Of Migratory Wings...

Well, I'm officially pissed off with Blogger not updating my osts, having to log in 3 times to get anywhere and having the same boring pap and text on my account with no choons. Therefore, I am flying south for the spring and taking my blog over to 'Myspace'. It's a little more up to date and no doubt most of you here under the age of thirty three have an account.
So flitter over to www.myspace.com/wingsstoke and get yourselves added under my friends!

Salut!


xxxxx

Of Febuary, Holidays, Valentines and Derek!

SERVE PIPING HOT THROUGHOUT.


BEATS SNOW, DRIZZLE AND HANLEY!


THIS IS ROSEY. SHE LIKES WEED, BACARDI AND THE SOUND OF HER OWN LUNGS


WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS SCARIEST, THE ORB ON THI PICTURE OR THAT SMILE AFTER YOUR SUPPER?

Well the 1st of Feb saw me and Rob jetting off once more cramped into a Thomsonfly crate to Gran Canaria to another 2 weeks of sun, dunes, tipple and shite all. We revisted water parks, burnt ourselves nicely on the beach (Gas Mark 6, 35 minutes each side and baste until golden), got acustomed to the smell of carrot oil, ate nothing but avacadoes where permitted and restocked on several litres of raspberry vodka on the way home. Valentines was spent in our favourite italian there and with it being our last night we thought we'd go to all our regular bars (such interesting names as 'Wunder-Bar' and 'Spartacus') for a goodbye cocktail. Or 6. Rob ended up draggin me home paraletic at 4am only to get up at 10am again for our plane home. Note to the wary children: never fly on a hangover in turbulance while the hostess tries to make you eat salty chicken cobbler. Blurgh. The only thing that stopped me from decoratignt the ladies Lulu autobiography next to me with puke was the vision of Ashton Kutcher in a swimming pool on the screen in front of me.
Of course you would think with such a hectic last night and nightmarish flight home we'd recover over the weekend. Not if Paul and Steve had anything to say about it. On friday night we were wrapped up warm and popped into a mini bus with 11 other victims of a haunted stay in Derby Gaol. Oh how we laughed. On the way there at least. My time there was mostly filled with robust manly yells - ok I squealed like a bith when something pushed into me and scratched my face. I've never contorted myself over moving furniture, flying glasses and phantom dogs before in my life. It was awesome and even skeptical Bobby saw a figure in a hat in a doorway. Lets just say I was happy to be in my own bed away from 17th century prison guards and a couple of mediums who looked like blamanche that had squeezed through a keyhole and reformed on the other side. We shall still be visiting again although I've told my lil sis Ree that she can't come as she will cosmically piss her knickers.
Other than family do's and a reluctancy to start back work today it's been an otherwise gentle month. I promise I'll update this better next month now I'm in one place. Just like I swear to give up booze, figures, cheese and red meat.
Toodles!

Of January, Customising, Packing and Widgets!

THIS WAS A FABULOUS SHOT. BUT THEN I HAD A GIN.


I CAN'T HELP BUT WONDER WHAT PAUL HAS DROPPED TO MAKE SHERRIN PULL THIS FACE...


...AND BECAUSE YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH CLOWN PICTURES TO FREAK YOUR SISTER OUT WITH

Well, January was more about New Years than anything else. We thought we'd invite a few over for some sherrys and finger food in what ended up to being a small mini bar and 1st class finger buffet! We had the usual Madam, Paul, Steve, Colin and Neil pop in as well as Adam and Kim, Mother, Sherrin, Jez, Ant and Byron, Markypoos and others that my hazey clamour cannot recount. With the usual jollities of Singstar, Buzz, booze quaffing and Robs God awful taste in music (backed up by Steve and Gloria - old shits) the party was going swimmingly. That is until I had a brainwave and tried to mess with the DJ by stealing the iPod remote for the telly. After being ganged upon and torn to pieces I reluctently had it prised out of my fingers after just one chorus of 'Who's Your Daddy'. Tragic. I then needed to spend most of the night in my bedroom (or what turned into the chill out room) with the window open fully just to cool down from my scarring encounter. However many a guest came for a spread much to Princess Stephanies chargrin who thought I was in a tizz. Which of course is her forte.
I have also decided to take my figure/geek hobby one step further by starting to customise my own. Using taxidermy putty (I kid thee not), geek paints and various rubber bands I've started to flog them on eBay with a healthy mark up too! Disgraceful behaviour I agree but I'll get out more in the summer.
Me and Bobby were also packing for our much anticipated and eagerly waited holiday to Gran Canaria so plenty of trawling shops for shorts. In january. So you can guess how easy that was. But sun lotion was on the cheap so not all bad.
We'd also like to ask WTF on the whole migrating to Google malarky. So I can do what exactly? If I should wish to teach the nation which songs I'm listening to at the moment (Sting Me Red by Who Da Funk, Crystalline Green by Goldfrapp and Perfect Exceeders for those asking) then surely I would doodle it down here. Not illegally trade them with skanks in New Zealand? Anyhoo Limewire is quicker. What's a Widget anyhoo?

Of December, Angels, Pirates, Dorothy and Mimmus

OH MIMMUS TREE OH MIMMUS TREE HOW WONDERFUL ARE YOUR PLASTICS.


AND LO' IT CAME FROM ABOVE


EYE EYE!


FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK... FORGET IT...


BREWERS NOSE? THAT'S BREEDER JUICE FOR YA!



SAY 'ARRRRRRRRRRRR' DEAR

Wings

Well here's part 2 of my catch up session. December, the month of giving and receiving what usually turns out to be a pile of stuff you have to wince at and comment on how 'different' it is.
There was the inevitable array of parties, soirees, social occasions and arsing about in fancy dress. Yes in true Wings stylee yours truly found every which way excuse to don ridiculous flammable clothing that caused itching, rashes and other dole-scum symptoms (see: heavy sweating).
One such event was Paul's family Christmas do in Mongey Congey Mitch club. We got aquainted with such characters as Pauls Grandpa, his partytastic mother and Steves usual comatose state after a gin too many. After picking up various feathers and watching Gloria's Dorothy make up escape across the floor (it was f**king roasting you see) it was time to fold Seaman Steve into a bus and ensure he didn't bring the chicken drumsticks up over Nellys straw arms. A usual night in all.
Christmas was a bit of a different pace for once. Finding myself off on a christmas eve for the first time in 6 years left me discovering what the other youth of today usually get up to on the festive occassion. Turns out it was the usual thing the youth of today do on any given night; drink, swear, fall over, snog and cry. Of course being the mild mannered upstanding member of society I am no such instance occured that night for me. But Madam more than made up my share as did Mr Davenport. So the universal balance was restored. Also discovered the new bar Blush in hanley this month where the dear Soph (see Red posts in 2005) is now a bar manager and Vanity Case appears on stage. The guy who owned Fluid has done up Flickers so it's actually kinda classy and plenty of spaces to quaff (oh yes it's a quaffing kinda place) free chambers. Or Asti. Thanks to Robs shennanigans we managed to convince Vanity that it was Madams 21st birthday one night. I think she was more insulted that anyone would find her 19 year old frame to look 21. Needless to say she sank her share of the bottle and has now ended up working there although what date of birth she gave is unknown...
Christmas day had all the usual joys of getting heart burn from Pop Tarts (Xmas day treat for 11 years running), making my annual visit to see my mental Gran (who accused me of making crackers and threatening to "cut that fringe straight"), eating my body weight in goose, ham, potatoes, bacon apricot rolls etc and passing ut on the settee at mum's watching naff telly. WINNER! Had some great stuff and possibly half the stock of the Hanley Lush store.
Being as I'd managed to wrangle most of christmas off I got to spend plenty of time with Bobby to celebrate our 2nd one together. Methinks that covers most of december. Except of course for the social event of the calendar year. But we're saving that for January...
Ride the Walrus!
Wings xXx

Of November, Jack, Who's Your Daddy and Singstar!

INTRODUCING JACK!
DEATH BECOMES HER AND HIM...


Wings
Well as promised we have a few slight overviews due for the last oh lets say few months. So I'm going to do a very quick recap of what I remember of November last year...
There's a new member in the Bobby and Ben household. November saw the entrance of Jack the Kakariki Parakeet. He's a lil cheeky and does like to mutter to himself but he's started to show his clever side by talking to telephones and carpet bombing us with Vodka Bottletops. Oh and he has a habit for swooping at Paul - titter.
Of course we had Guy Fawkes night with all that firework malarky so it was off to Auntie Glo's and Uncle Nellys for a display of Asda proportions. Yes there was a lovely spread as usual and not of the usual variety Gloria offers too; she was wearing trousers. No we thought it would be awfully good to get £15 worth of fireworks. Or should we say roman candles. Yes we revelled in the hilarity of writing swear works with sparklers for the neighbours and placing bets on whether the next rocket would either a) go off while Rob was lighting them or b) put next doors windows through. To say the fireworks had no idea where the sky sat is a lil understatement. After cremating the hyasynths we carried on getting jolly and seeing how much of the firework code we could remember - thrilling!
Many an evening was spent both at Chateau de Pansie (Paul and Steve) and Maison de Mimsey (Ours) for riotous acts of Singstar and listening to Steve claim his buzzer was rigged. Yes of course it was and strange how it always seems to be his no matter which he's on!
Me and Shelly also re-discovered the joys of Benny Benassi with our new question for all things work based "Who's you're Daddy?" (ceramoniously followed with the squeal "You're My Daddy!") as well as the usual bitching and bloke bothering.
I also had a chance to properly clear the air with Martini on a night at the Club (which are getting fewer and further between). After an hour long chin wag and catch up in the Tuns I think we both got to an understanding and managed to put a lot of rumours to rest. And then we got twatted until 5:30 am - huzzah! It's been a while since I managed such a feat but needless to say it was well worth it especially with Martini, Markivieve and Miss Burgerclit!
So in true Novemebr stylee, Ride the Walrus!

Wings xx

Of Waving Not Drowning

Wings
I have not died - I am very much breathing. 4 month update on it's way!

Of Dinnerparties, Craig Robinson, Stella's Arse and Rocky...

IT'LL ALL END IN TEARS


BETTY LEGLESS DIAMONDS


DJ BOX OR FLIGHT DECK... WE COULDN'T DECIDE...


THERE'S ALWAYS ONE SAMBUCA THAT DOESN'T QUITE LIGHT RIGHT...


NOTHING AS CLASSY AND NECKING NEAT BACARDI FROM A TOOTHBRUSH BEAKER...

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN MISS STELLA ARSE-TOIS!

Wings
Hello all. I'm keeping this one brief as I have a date with a nightcap and a cookie waiting for me. It's been another rushed month has september - what with work, catching up with family and friends, and hob nobbing at Stropon and Pauls delightful social event, the wife and I have been kept busy.
It has been decided you can have just as much fun making 1am calls to Craig Robinson with Neil Pepper than it is dancing like an arobics addict up hanley. It's a damn sight cheaper and there's more homous too...
We also discovered nurses are not the best person to watch a theatrical performance with unless you want the version of Rocky Horror that has audience participation of "Go home Janet it's not*HIC* safe!" All good fun. We also learned that no camera, no matter how advanced can capture Ms Artois heiny clearly; as displayed above. We also know what she does at the pulpit...
Enjoy the extra birthday piccys and a proper catch up soon.
Night night xxx

Of Stella, Passage Del Stella and Val Stella...

RHIA COULDN'T QUITE FINISH ALL HER SPERM...


GLORIA, MAMMA GOBJOB, STEVE, ME, PAUL, MADAM AND BOBBY


STRIKE A POSE!


FANCLUB!


STELLA SUPERIOR, BEHOLD HER HOLY STANCE!

Wings
Was it a bird? Was it a plane? Was it a 6 foot 2 dream come true with backless nun outfit - I think so. Yes gentle hearts Stellafest '06 has come and passed us by leaving us sore, bruised and defiled. There was sickness, wetness, hand prints and keyrings a plenty. So let us start with the friday...
Me, Rob, Rhia and Beth got to the sunny littered shores of Blackpool in time for tea so it was a quick check into our respective hotels to see how much booze we could hide in coat sleeves, handbags and small mammals. The first thing I noticed in Guyz was the fact that the bar and breakfast lounge was complimented by a glass cabinet full of sex toys. A small branch of Anne Summers bondage wear if you will. To be fair our room was clean and pleasant even if you did have a shower in the wardrobe and no room to swing the resident 1 eyed cat (cute as it was). And yes, that sink kept me entertained into the wee hours. Rhia however complained about the fact there were handprints above the bed in their room and Beth thought it a crying shame that the butch looking hotel manager Steve had such a mince on.
Off to Harry Ramsdens for tea to feed the gannets and feel that lovely mud water at the front of the pier; it was safe to say we were knackered by night time to meet Paul, Steve and Colin at Funny Girls (fashinably late as ever). Rhia and Beth had their handful with Sperm in the cleanest possible way and Gloria made beautiful Betty Legs faces with his rather agile lips! After a mediocre show and burning heels it was off to Mardi Gras to Stella-spot but the only entertainment we saw there was a bizzare blond fellow giggling to my sister in a very 50's way and some 55 year old Butlins drop out doing very interesting Billy Joel songs. So home we trotted for an early one although we missed a Stella performance by 15 minutes!
Saturday saw the usual rides at the pleasure beach with Madam meeting us and not being too impressed with Val Halla, Rhia falling in love with the Noahs Ark and Steve going suspiciously silent mid air on Bling. All in all a jolly good Ponchoriffic day with a belter of a night to follow. Mrs Gobjob (aka mother) took Nellys place on the tiles and gotta say the new Handbag was stunning but the Flamingo is excellent - far better than the last one I dare say. With terraces, light up dance floors, bubble machines, fire breathers, spark grinders, go go boys, frosted glass bars and invisible steps it wasn't as though you were in blackpool anymore - a feat in itself. Madam took a fancy to a chappy who was taking photos for the club and sellin them as keyrings of which we ended up with six just so he could find out when he finished! Flamingos itself is on loads of floors all of which again face to the dancefloor in a staged effect this time. Me and Madam were the last girls standing returning home when the booze funds had run out and our trousers were covered in ticker tape.
Big thank you to all who could attend and Stella for baring her brick layer arse on the saturday. Yes we did manage to catch her for an hour or so on the saturday before Flamingo and even got a piccy of the buxom beauty shimself although we hope Stropon has better quality pics once they're printed! All round a freakin awesome weekend which I'm still feeling (in my shoes, tummy and the mysterious rash that's spread across my back...)
OH how we laughed.
We laughed
and laughed
and...

Wings xXx