Knowing me, knowing view

The nerds over at Google want their fingers in as many hot internet pies as they can, don't they? Not content with being the search engine of choice for Tom, Dick and Harry, having entire comedy routines written about them and suchlike, they're now trying to photograph EVERYTHING in the bloody world!

If you haven't taken a butcher's at Google Streetview yet then you should. It's a mind-blowing tool that turns a flat map into a man's-eye view of the world we walk about in. Not everywhere in England is covered yet, but London's pretty much all done. After the initial weird-out moment you have when you look directly at your own front door on a computer screen, in the knowledge that any other bugger can too, you get real nosey. Yeah you, I can see you looking up your local Sainsbury's postcode to see if you can spot that check-out girl who takes a little bit too long giving you back your Nectar card is visible in the window. You perve.

Down to what this means for the more sane among us. That's right.. You can search for hours looking for shops with hilarious names!

Yep, it dawned on me this very morning. While I've been craning my neck as I drive down Tolworth Broadway (yes, it's really called that), I could just be popping the co-ordinates into Google and let my Mac do the driving for me! I can even stop in the middle of the road without writing it off!

So fly, my pretties. Go forth and find me those treats on the streets! Today I saw a rental van filling up at my local garage with the slogan "The Hire Standard" emblazened across it. I couldn't get a photo because the gruff-looking chap at the pump didn't look like he read many pun orientated blogs. So when Googling the phrase I came up with a company under the same name. With a postcode. In London. On Streetview. Thar she blows:



This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Soccer to me

I think one of the most rewarding things about writing for a newspaper would be the moment you know you've captured a story perfectly in a headline. Make it a play on words and you can only intensify that feeling.

In February 2000, when little Inverness Caledonian Thistle beat the mighty Celtic 3-1 in a Scottish Cup game, the reporter must've rubbed his grubby little hands together. Not just to get some feeling back into them on a bitter Glasgow evening, but because he had the headline of his life warming up on the touchline, just waiting to come on and make an impact.

If you haven't seen this one before, I think you'd better sit down:



I mean, even The Sherman Brothers would've been stood up to applaud that one. It's a truly inspirational bit of pun work. We all come up with a wisecrack now and again, have a little chuckle to ourselves, and maybe even raise a titter among our peers, but that is next-level.

The only time I've genuinely felt I've absolutely nailed a pun like that is during a round of the game I talked about in this post. I DJ at an indie clubnight in Kingston called New Slang, and do most of the design work for it. On all the advertising for it, we have a playlist of bands you'll likely hear, but sometimes we change the names of the bands depending on the theme of the evening, like if it's an Easter or Christmas special, or our birthday.

It was thinking up Band vs Christmas puns that I had my defining punnery moment. My friend and I had bandied around a fair few gooduns; Winterpol, Jingle Bells & Sebastian, The Carol Service, Arctic Turkeys.. All ok, but not quite amazing ones.

Then came the one:

No Room At The Drive-Inn

Now, if you didn't know there was a band called At The Drive-In (which you should, they were groundbreaking), you'll probably think that's not that great. But I can tell you without flinching, that's the jewel in my crown, that one. I can't describe to you how much pleasure I got just from adding that extra "n" to the end. It was the icing on an already delicious cake.

Self gratification over. Next time I'll shine lights on someone else's glory. Promise.

This one's for all the covers out there

Yesterday was the first day since starting this blog that I haven't posted. Several people have said I'm pretty keen and should probably calm it down a bit, but I'm having too much fun for that! So there.

To make up for yesterday's selfish non-posting bother, here's a double-whammy of an entry!

I had two contributions awaiting me in my inbox this morning, and one was from a person I've never spoken to before! Yes, that exclamation mark was completely necessary. James had emailed me after reading my previous post to tell me about an Iron Maiden tribute band from across the border called Maiden Scotland. "Brilliant!" I thought to myself, as I clicked on the link he'd so generously attached. Only to find they've changed their name to an even better one!

They now perfom as Irn Maiden.

Anyone who's ever frequented "alternative" (ugh) pubs up and down the country will no doubt have spotted the odd poster or two advertising an upcoming tribute act. Some of my favourites that I've noted are:

AC/D She (an all-female AC/DC tribute act)
The Joshua Trio (ah, that's good, even if Bono is a self-righteous, Geldof-sniffing tit)
Nearly Furtado (that deserves some sort of medal)
Not Was (Not Was) (hold on, give that medal back)
Rabbi Williams (seriously.. look!)
By Jovi (I think they need an exclamation mark)
Jah Division (I never thought I'd hear miserable reggae)
Dread Zeppelin (...or prog reggae)

Listeners of the Adam & Joe Radio Show on BBC6 Music (and previously XFM) will probably remember that they once did a whole bit on tribute bands. Adam even came up with a few of his own. My favourite's being Faux Fighters and Not So Keane. Turns out Faux Fighters are New Zealand's premier Foo Fighters tribute act already, though.

Well, I couldn't not have a go at this, could I? Let's roll:

Parody-gy (ok, not a great start)
INXact (uh-oh, we're getting worse)
Pseu 2 (help)
Moc Party (I'll let me have that one)
Girls Allude (Hallelujah, I'm saved!)

Right, that's enough of that. I can't accuse Ireland's most famous export since Guinness of being self-involved and then bang out my own material (50% nylon, apparently) for the rest of the day.

Pete! Good old Pete Fraser of his lovely blog fame was my other emailee today. Here's the photo he took yesterday, while being whizzed around in his sister's car:



Gah! If only I'd been able to get a photo of On The Tiles, a shop I spotted yesterday in Southampton, to go with it. That would've been quite the co-incidental bit of Sunday pun photography.

Shame that.

Pun's not dead

WANTED

Alto sax , oboe and flute players to start adult contemporary / punk crossover band, performing under the name Dead Kenny Gs.

No time wasters.
Thanks.

Thames the breaks

Living by the Thames on a cracking day like today is great. Everyone's in a great mood and the banks are lined by smiling faces enjoying the sunshine. Quite why so many people are off on a Friday I don't know, but I didn't worry about questioning them all.

I walked home from town along the river, which was lined with more boats than usual. Remembering the email Murta sent me this week, I thought it would be a good idea to check the names of them all as I passed. Low and behold, one of them yielded a banger:



Incase you cant quite read it, this particular vessel is called π 'n' Mash. Oh yes, we like a good maths gag here, don't you worry about that. When I was at school, we had a slightly portly maths teacher. One day, a classmate (who shall remain nameless for his own safety - Mr Peck was a bit of a monster as well as a tubby statistician) drew the pi symbol in chalk (yes chalk, it was a traditional school, OK?) all over the blackboard. His words when he walked in were "I'll let that one go as it's a maths joke."

The same couldn't be said a week later when another lad left a half-eaten pork pie on his desk. No siree Bob.

Unfortunately there weren't any other good'uns floating around for me today, but one boat did catch my eye a bit further down the way. It wasnt it quite as good nick as Pi 'n' mash was though..



I know what you're thinking. "What's the sign say there, Seano?" Well, don't worry, I have that covered..



May need bail out!? I think you can drop the "may" Gordon, me old mucker. She's a goner! Even the coots won't go near it and I've seen them nesting further up the Thames between the legs of passed-out pisshead!

No boom, indeed.

Churching for a former clarity

I'm lucky enough to work in a beautiful building that you wouldn't know is a regular office until you step through the door into reception. Even then you'd have a bit of a headscratch and mumble until the receptionist asks you what the ruddy heck you're doing in our hallway mumbling and scratching your bonce.

Now, I get pretty nervy in interviews. Sometimes I even feel a little bit sick. Yes, I know it's pathetic, but I have to deal with it. Usually I do this by staying in a job for years and years, so as to avoid the process altogether.

One of the worst bits of being interviewed, I think, is the waiting. It's almost as horrid as at the dentists, but at least they give you a Reader's Digest to thumb through, even it is from the late Eighties. To avoid "pleasant" (read: horrific) conversation with the receptionist (or whoever's making sure I'm not there to case the joint) I'll do whatever I can. If I'm offered a drink I will absolutely have one, thirsty or not. Just leave me alone to sweat in peace, puhleeeease.

Another good'un is the old fashioned "Um, can I just pop to the toilet while I'm here?" - Don't take too long though. Don't want them to think you're that nervous!

So that was my weapon of choice in the interview for where I now work. Off I strode (confidently, of course) to the loos, did the check to see which door was for the gents, and that's when I saw it for the first time...



It's nearly three years ago that I had that interview, and I still stifle a mini chortle every time I answer the call of nature. Truly lovely stuff.

Barging Hunt

What better way to celebrate St. Georges Day this morning than by regailing you some traditional puns from England's terrific waterways?

Thank you then to Murta, who's sent me a wealth of river-based punnery taken on his barge holiday last summer. That's forward thinking of the highest order there, people. Let this be a lesson to you all.

Let's delve right in, shall we:







Lovely stuff.

Murts has just started his own blog about ridiculous newspaper stories called Shredlines, which is great. Do check that, and his other, more self-orientated one, which you can get a load of here, if you can stomach it. Some of his stories are not for the feint-hearted, let's say.

As an aside to that, here's one more little tidbit he mailed me. And I've saved the best 'til last here. I don't know where this ad appeared, but I reckon he's kept this one, ready to unleash at the right opportunity. And here I am! I'll apologise in advance to any no-tails who may be reading, but this one is a corker!



Believe me, it's not as rude as the one Del wants to send me.

The beautiful game

Thanks to Kingstonian FC's tallest supporter, Gary for supplying me with content for this morning's post. Namely, the nation's favourite passtime; football.

Congratulations, incidentally to Kingstonian on winning promotion to the Ryman Premier Division at the weekend!

Gary's dug up some gold in the form of a couple of nicknames of ex-Premiership players. They are former Manchester City loanee Kiki "Chris" Musampa and "One Size" Fitz Hall, currently of QPR. I'm sure you'll agree, a pair of inspirational nicknaming moments.

A game I often divulge in is to pick two unrelated topics and try and create puns from mixing one subject from each. A favourite of these is Footballers and Bands. Here are some of my favourites.

Alexi Lalasonfire
Jimmy-Floyd Hoobastank
Harry Q & Not Ewell (thanks to Ben for that one!)

Do let me know any you come up with, and indeed any other topics you think could be good for whittling hours away on. Bands and Food is another belter, but I'll save those for another day.

Tees me, tees me, tees me, baby

Another weakness of mine is that I buy too many tshirts. Ask my lovely girlfriend, she'll tell you. The shelves by my bed are racked with them, folded neatly and arranged by colour. By now you're probably getting an idea of what I'm like and I'm almost certain that I wouldn't want to know me either.

Suffice to say, I own too many tshirts. But when I see that something like this:



...is readily available on the internet, I actually get goosebumps thinking about the postman knocking on the door. However the self same bumps soon leave my spindly white arms once I remember that postage will take 4-6 weeks, and on the fateful day it does actually arrive I'll be at work, and Ill just get that "Sorry! You weren't in" card, and I'll have to go down the ruddy sorting office again, and I'll have been charged extra because they didn't put enough postage on, and OH FORGET IT.

You contri-beauty!

Praise be! I have received my very first contribution!

Just two days in, and a smashing chap named Arwell has sent in this lovely bit of chip shop punnery, spotted in Manchester.



Oh my, that's a good feeling. He tells me there's more in the pipeline too! But he's got to travel to Leeds for that. I have a feeling that The North™ is more open to pun fascia than we are down here. I'll have to visit that half of the country more often. I've only ventured further than Milton Keynes maybe three times ever. I've flown to the States more than that! Shameful.

So thanks Arwell, thanks x1000000! A true gent.

And hey, you! Yeah you, reading this and not contributing. Send me things! It doesn't have to be shopfronts. Good newspaper headlines, nicknames, even jokes you've made up, whatever! I'm relying on you and your eyes and brains.

Thanks in advance, you're awfully lovely.

I know a lot of Daves

Just five posts in to the blog, and already my third Dave! Obviously, it's a pretty common English name, so you yourself probably know a fair few Daves. I remember once meeting the unfortunate owner of the nickname Crap Dave. He didn't know he was called that, and asked my friend Mud why he would give him such a moniker. The response, priceless:

"Well, I know a LOT of Daves, and you are by far the crappest."

They don't write them like they used to. Anyway, I've neatly set myself up to talk about the case in point.. People I Know Called Dave With Good Nicknames. This blog lark's easy.

So this third Dave (I genuinely know someone called Dave Thirde, but this isn't about him, however well it illustrates what's already been said); he has what I think are the two greatest nicknames I have EVER heard. I'll have to describe him a little to set his scene. (Dave, if you're reading this, I suppose I'm sorry).

Dave plays synths in a grandiose metal act called Seasons End. This makes him what the less musically aware of you would call a "goth" or "greebo". A local variation of greebo is "grebber" (you'll need to know that later - bear with me). The other thing Dave enjoys, aside from brooding melancholic cock-rock, is finger food. You know, sausage-on-a-stick, scotch egg, that sort of thing. (He likes other stuff too, but these are the key ingredients for a pair of classic pseudonyms).

The first is Andrew-Lloyd Grebber. My very good friend Gin is responsible for that one, and every day I am saddened that it wasnt me who thought of it. When Dave's behind his keyboard plinking and plonking his little black heart out it's all I can think of. If only he wore a Phantom mask.

The other is Vampire, The Buffet Slayer.

I think I'd best just leave you to digest that one. It took me a few minutes to come back round after hearing it for the first time. Pure, unbridled brilliance.

Love you, Dave!

If you know anyone with a nickname that comes close to the quality of those two (pun-related only please!), then do get in touch.

SWOS stickers

Do you remember that wonderful football management game of the mid 90s, Sensible World of Soccer (or SWOS for short)?

It's probably just as well they never did a tie-in with Panini, eh?

Quarry about it later

I think it's important within the confines of what I'm putting out here to try and let you know how my brain works. I hope it doesn't put people off talking to me.

Every day, ALL day (and I promise this is true), my brain is thinking of puns. Particularly in conversation. Now, this does not mean I'm not listening. I'm not trying to say I'm so spectacularly super-human that I can hold a conversation while thinking of something else entirely at the same time, but it happens.

There's a type of word called a portmanteau, which is "a word formed by blending sounds from two or more distinct words and combining their meanings." A common example would be ginormous (a combination of giant and enormous). Before this turns into a linguistics lesson I'll get back to my point; my mind is constantly searching for portmanteaus, without me actually trying. I've irritated people before when they've told me about their "funky uncle", by stopping them to say "you mean your funkle!"

Now, that's rubbish. You know it, I definitely know it, but I say it. I almost always say it. It's a habit, and although it can sometimes be excruciating, it's better than, I don't know.. smoking.

Blimey, I'm distancing myself from readers with every line. ANYWAY, in a vain effort to scrape together some material for this (and under the assumption that, at first, I'm hardly going to be inundated with contributions) I'll post what I think are some of my punnery highlights.

I worked for a while with a wonderful, pun-appreciating Wicker-voiced chap named Morgan who sings and plays guitar in London-based thrash revivalists The Quarry. A while ago, they went on a short tour of the UK. I was giving him a lift from work one night and was asking him how it all went and what was in the pipeline. He wasn't greatly upbeat about it, as their bassist was leaving the band. I'm sure you won't be surprised when I tell you that marriage and actively touring in a metal band are not great bedfellows. This last set of gigs up and down the country would also be his last.

Right, that's the setup. Now, of course, there's going to be (with a lot of these) a sense of the dreaded "you had to be there" nause that all stories like this fall victim to, but I hope some of them will get the appreciation they (possibly) warrant.

SO! I said.. "You could say that was the tour that broke the camel's back."

Come on, that's good stuff! Oh whatever, Morgan LOVED it.
Please come back.

Getting the ball rolling

So, I suppose I should explain how I think this blog is going to work. It's fairly open, in that I hope people will be encouraged to send me examples of puns they see anywhere and everywhere. This does happen, to an extent. I have a reputation which I eluded to previously. Friends of mine are well aware of my fondness for a well-executed pun, so I get texts, emails, messages on Facebook, whatever, telling me of puns they've seen that they think I'll appreciate (more than most!).

Just yesterday I got a text from my friend Dave:

Just saw a Chinese take away called "Woks Cooking?"

Now, some of you might think that's a waste of 10p (I know everyone has a contract with free texts included these days, but I digress), but it's small moments like this that genuinely make me elated. Yeah, I'm that guy.

I hope that should anyone ever sees something that they deem appropriate, they'll get a pic for me so I can add it on here. It's going to be a collation (and celebration) of pun ephemera like no other before it, and it's YOU that's going to help me make it happen.

OK, Now you have the gist, here's a few to get the ball rolling. I'm including the two on Facebook that the delightful Sophie and Frankie cared enough about to tag me in. Thanks to them for unintentionally becoming the very first contributors to TPM!



Now, we're setting the bar pretty high here. I had heard of this kebab van (based in Bristol should you fancy getting a shish in) previously. Setting my eyes on it, albeit not in the flesh, for the first time made my little heart skip a beat. This is punnery in it's purest form. It's an instant classic. I really REALLY hope that the van owner is called Jason, but I reckon he's not. Maybe it's a she! Maybe the gag is THAT good that they've changed their name to Jason for authenticity. I can only hope. Next time I'm in Bristol, I'll be sure to ask.




This is the one from Frankie, taken on a trip to Edinburgh with another (taller) Dave with which I am also friends. Hands up who guessed this shop was in Scotland. I'll wager it was a fair few of you. Very perceptive.. we'll get on well.




Last up for tonight is this bike shop I drove past on the way back to my flat from seeing my folks. It's probably the nearest piece of pun signage to where I live. And while it's not the best example, I hold it dear to me for that reason. When I have somewhere that I can keep a bike, I'd like to think I'll get it from here.

So that's me officially started! I hope this will be a long and loving relationship. I'm certainly looking forward to it, even if we're still in the punnymoon period.

Note: I won't be making any more frankly sub-standard puns like that regularly, if at all. It's just the excitement of it all getting to me, y'know? Anyway, we'll see how able I am to keep that promise as time goes by. I hope this won't put you off checking back in now and again. Thanks.

In the beginning

I think I like blogs.
I know I like puns.

For a while now I've been interested starting a blog, but I was never sure what I had to say was interesting enough. That, and there are countless blogs around about nothing and probably some blogs about those blogs.

Where do we go from here then?
Well, I go down the road that some say I'm best known for... Puns.

It's got to the point now, where friends of mine (when on holiday, usually) might see shops adorned with elaborately painted puns on their facade, take a photo of them, pop them on Facebook and then tag ME in the photo! I'm hundreds of miles away watching Seinfeld in my pants. I'm certainly not infront of their camera(s).

It can only mean one thing. If there's a blog specifically about puns to be written, then I'm destined to be it's Captain. So please, remain seated, and keep your hand inside the vehicle at all times.

This could be a bumpy ride.