Danny Dyer and His Deadly Men

I watched Danny Dyer's deadliest men last night just to see him mincing about with a uffer in Scotland and Belfast. Danny was in a sensitive mood. He was glad that the deadly man hadn't tried to bum him, but when he invited him to Belfast for the weekend Danny got scared, probably because he thought they'd gotten past the prospect of sex. So what did Danny do, Danny said yes and went down the arcade to think about it. He must have been reading my blog, and thinking a bit of bum sex might make him come across as sensitive.

Danny fucks off to Belfast, but he goes without the uffer because Danny gets recognised by the fans, and he doesn't want to get his head blown off because of this particular hard man.

In fairness to Danny he does try to get his head round the subject matter, even though you get a sense that deep down he's pissing his pants, but loving the reflected notoriety of hanging out with someone way harder than himself, gay or not (the terrorist, not Danny, of course.)

Here's Danny being scared and fucking about down the arcade (about 2 mins in), wielding a toy gun and dreaming of being hard.



I was pissed off at seeing Danny so scared and feeble that I had to go and watch Football Factory just to reconvince myself that Danny is a rough tough cockney wide boy with minerals and a desire to kick people down a flight of apples and pears.

What To Do When Called By Debt Collection Agencies

Since moving from my old life to my new gritty city one in London I've been plagued by mysterious phonecalls every day. No, not from an angry Danny Dyer, from debt collection agencies grasping on to the one method they have of finding me since I left a lot of unpaid bills at my last address.

I've put the number into my phone as Do Not Answer but sometimes I answer my phone without looking in the hope that it'll be some hot babe, or maybe a non-soul-destroying job offer.

No such luck.

What I tend to do when faced with having to talk to these people is simple. I don't talk. I heavy breathe, like a stalking, thus reversing the harassment back onto them. I hope it traumatises them. I really do.

More about Danny Dyer sucking cock

Aside from listening to the lovely Kate McGill and thinking about how great it would be to watch films where Danny Dyer sucks cock, or tries to suck his own cock for two whole hours (or wears a nappy) I'm sometimes confused going through videos on youtube:



Take this for example: what they fuck is it about? Great song, great character, but what was the motivation in making it?

Anyway back to Danny Dyer sucking cock.

Danny Dyer could be a convincing Ponce

I've been laid low with the cold. I've been keeping London indoors with me by watching lots of Danny Dyer movies. No harm to Danny but he always seems to play the same character. I think he has more range than he gives himself credit for. I think it'd be great to see him play a character that's a bit of a stretch for him. Like a gay, I could really imagine Danny Dyer just sucking cock after cock for two hours.

Anyway while not thinking about Danny Dyer sucking loads of cock, or watching his films I've been on the look out for some good tunes on youtube and the lick and I came across this song:



Isn't it great. Really relaxed and melodic. I'd like to hear more from Kate McGill. I first heard her in a Cafe Nero behind Oxford Street, where I hang out and can be found most Tuesdays from 10:00am to 2:00pm if Danny Dyer wants to meet and discuss my opinion that a film with him sucking cock the whole way through would really suit him.

My First Celeb

Being in London I knew that at some point I'd see someone famous, like properly famous, not just some regional maybe-is that shows up for photo ops every chance they get (supermarket openings, voxpops for regional news snippets, funerals of other non-famous people) because they aren't famous anymore or worse never were (except for some time they slabbered at someone on the radio or their band played support for a nearly famous band or had a number 2 hit in an obscure country [that last one is alright actually - if only they'd go there and stay]).

Anyways there I was in Camden a couple of days ago, browsing through clothes in the market and who should I come across but Kaya Scoled, Kaya Scodol, Kaya scodeler Effie from Skins.

Her face when she realised I was staring at her

I was getting reading to bang out my best London Lines Danny Dyer style, just taking a minute to go through my lines, and when I looked up again she had disappeared into the crowd.

That's how it is in London. You get one chance and then it's, oh fuck I don't know I'm just pissed off it didn't happen. Now I don't have some story to sell to the tabloids about me and some bird from Skins. I could really do with the money.

Charlie Fink's Hairdo Spotted in Shoreditch

There I was, all friendless and wandering around trendy Shoreditch hoping to make cool friends when I went into The Book Group. I had a great idea how to make myself instantly likeable. I started whistling the start of 5ive Years Time by Noah and The Whale (giving it real pep) but nobody took any notice. No one could hear me over the noise of the ping pong table.

I was crushed (my heart was crushed - it's metaphorical like) but I resorted to plan B (not the sensational Rap/R&B -er) I took my wallet out at the bar and said to two tasty ladies in the style of Danny Dyer (see previous entry):

"What you want giwl a dwink? Want a Tech-iwa, a couple of cheeky tech-iwas? you laaaaaaaaaaaaaaave it?"

They didn't answer. I drank the tequila's myself and went outside and sat on the pavement all dizzy and unhappy. Then I saw what looked like Charlie Fink from the aforementioned Noah and The Whale come wondering out. It was hard to tell when I was so pissed, it might only had been his hairdo, or maybe his hairdo's stunt double. I couldn't be sure, and when I opened my pissed mouth what came out in my ______ accent was too garbled to be intelligible to anyone but me.

When will I make friends in London?

My First Day

I've moved to London. It's been a funny few days, proper something or other I'm not sure. I've only just started learning the London lingo. I don't know any Londoners yet (my housemates are all French) so I haven't had a chance to expose them to my ________ accent yet. (I'm not telling you where I'm from you see).

What I will tell you is that, on my first proper day here (after sleeping off travel exhaustion etc) I went for a touristy walk (and tube). I saw Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament and a prostitute in Soho arguing with a customer in front of a bobby (London cop) about how she'd slept with him so he wasn't getting his money back.

It was great. I feel like a local already.

That said I'm not sure I want to lose my _________ accent. Though based on past experiences I'll be sounding like these mutherfuckers in a few weeks: