2006 Chiltie Award Winner: MACCA

I can now reveal that after much soul searching, result tallying, coin tossing and bung accepting - Chris Mack is awarded the 2006 Chiltie Award.

Macca, weeks after being hospitalised by a small mammal, was back with the Bryson Boys for the Fifth Annual Le Mans expedition.

Anyone who has ever made the trip to the Circuit de la Sarthe will know that it is tiring enough on foot, on crutches it must have been hell. Of course he had brought a wheelchair to ease the strain on his arms, although after an encouter with a shark at the local Carrefour and a 17 mile treck to watch a soccerball game - the wheels fell off!

On the bright-side he came home strong enough to bench-press an Intercity 125, an event which was to cause sevire delays on the East Coast Mainline.

So well done to Macca for showing us the meaning of indefatigable, or at least pointing us in the direction of the dictionary to look it up for ourselves.

One very tiny certificate is on it's way.

Clay Regazzoni

It is with sadness tonight I have heard of the Death of former GP driver Clay Regazzoni. He had been involved in a car accident on Friday.

Regazzoni scored five Grand Prix victories, including the maiden victory for the Williams team, the 1979 British GP at Silverstone.

Clay took part in 132 Grands Prix for Ferrari, BRM, Ensign, Shadow & Williams. His most successful season was in 1974, when racing for the Scuderia he conquered the mighty Nordschlieffe en route to 2nd place in the Drivers Championship.

Our thoughts will be with his family this Christmas

Champion of Champions

Congratulations to Mattias Eckstrom for clinching the 2006 Race of Champions title at the Stade de France in Paris.

Eckstrom beat rally legend Sebastian Loeb 2-0 in the final, including one race in Loeb's own Citroen Xsara WRC car.

But the most exciting news of the day was that the 2007 festival of motorsport will be crossing the channel to the new Wembley Stadium. Definately one for the diary!

Happy Non-Demominational Annual Winter Festive Time Off Work!!

It's that time of year again. Children are smilling (because they've just happyslapped Santa), The snows are falling (possibly in Norway, but it's pissing down here!), and we offer tidings of peace and goodwill to all man (unless he's about to buy the last robotic dinosaur in the shop in which case it's all fair game!)

I believe that the traditional image of Christmas never existed outside of cheesy cards, cartoons and Charles Dickens novels in which everybody was called Mister Snigglebottom. In reality Christmas for me involves getting drunk and watching telly, usually while attempting to fathom the latest electronic gizmo with which you cannot comprehend how you managed to suvive all those years without.

And of course to make sure that you get yourself down to the shops to purchase these gizmos the Christmas decorations are put up in Mid June, and the Carolers start going door to door long before the clocks go back. Of course all this commercialism means that by the time The Queen makes her annual festive address to the nation, you are one play of "Last Christmas" by Wham! away from complete mental breakdown.

Then after 6 months of Build-up and one Dr Who special - it's all over!

The Tree comes down, your Gizmo is thrown in a drawer to never be seen again, and your Credit Card company break your legs for non-payment.

But still I had a week off work, and it's only six months until it starts all over again!

Inside Bryson: Tom's Story

Thomas was born on his birthday sometime during the 70’s. As a small child he would embrace the spirit of the era by growing his sideburns, flairing his trousers and investing in a middle of the range Soda Stream.

By the 1980’s he was old enough to start school. He named it Thomas Hoadley Grammar and installed himself as an acting deputy headmaster. Unfortunately his father soon needed the shed back, and so he closed his school and went to the local comprehensive with other children from the area. It was to be here that young Thomas would discover his lifelong passion for semolina pudding.

He was a bright pupil and would come to sit his GCSE exams two whole years early. Thankfully for him somebody pointed out the error and he was able to return to his usual lessons before the teacher marked him absent.

It was during this period he was to become a gifted Guitarist. He could not play the guitar but had received it as a gift. He later gave it away as another gift before receiving it back from somebody who has subsequently dropped off his Christmas card list.

Thomas left School nightly at 3:30, and finally for good when he turned 16. He applied to both Oxford and Cambridge Universities with a desire to study Advanced Petrochemicals - a hobby of his since he had been the sole witness to a sporadic fire at his school, which, as Thomas explained, must have been started by a trio of wondering fire-eaters.

Unfortunately due to a postal strike his application forms never arrived, and so Thomas set out into the brave wide world to look for adventure and employment with dental privileges.

He looked first at a career in the armed forces, but an allergy to brass band music mixed with a nervous twich in his trigger finger saw him quickly discharged after what the papers called the Passing out parade Incident.

Going into hiding to escape the attentions of the tabloid press, and the lawsuits of the bereaved, Thomas found his true calling, tending to the gardens of the rich & famous.

Gradually as one by one the famous caught him going through their dustbins and stealing clothes off the washing line, his client based switched to the “Wealthy & Well Knowns”, and finally the “Average Income Who are They’s”

Just as he thought things could get no worse, they did. Then they got a little better, before being great for a while and eventually levelling out at content, with the odd dip here and there and a few sharp spikes in his Gazebo.

Thomas is currently looking to expand his successful gardening business and move into fields, hedgerows, woodland and forestry.

Outside of work he is also involved with managing the popular Country & Western Quartet from Birmingham, TJ Bimmy & the OK Choral. Who have had some moderate success with the Singles “Hodown in my Heart”, “The Outlaw Man from Dagenham” and the Valentines day Classic “Sally (The Girl from Cherwell Valley)”.

The future is looking bright for Thomas as he moves towards yet another birthday. One which I am sure he will celebrate in style, possibly by using the old soda stream to make slightly cheaper carbonated beverages.

The Chilties: Shortlist Revealed

With the Chiltie awards around the corner, it is time for the final Nominees for the Bryson – Moment of the Year to be revealed:

1: SVEN GORAN ERIKSSON BREAKS MACCAS WHEELCHAIR

Yes, way back in the summer saw us gather once more in Le Sarthe for the worlds greatest race, the 24 Heures du Mans. It had clashed this year both with the Soccerball Cup and Maccas enthusiastic attempt to raise his motor insurance premiums.

Plastered up to heal his car crash crushed bones, Maccas Le Mans was always going to be interesting - not least on the logistical note of getting a wheelchair & everyones camping year in the back of a Mini.

Dispite the miracle of getting his chair across France in one piece, an inaine trek across the circuit in search of an England soccerball game saw the wheels fall off Maccas plans for a crutch-free weekend, and quite literally fall off his chair.


2: JAMES’ BIRTHDAY

When it comes to Young Jim you can almost be guaranteed hilarity. After several years of finding himself drunk and stranded, miles away from home, he decided this year to get drunk and stranded within staggering distance.

After Falling over in the Garden, Falling out of a Window, and Falling over the billiards table, his head may have been convinced that he was riding the Oblivion at Alton Towers. It was then with predictable results that projectile vomiting would follow and with a distance many amateur shot-putters would be proud of.


3. ALAN AND THE CASE OF THE ULTIMATELY DISSAPOINTING FIREWORK

“Stand Back Lads, This is Going to be a Big one”

Al had arrived at Toms Fireworks & First Aid Extravaganza with a rocket so large it could be designated WMD. But like the hype leading up to the Invasion of Iraq, the reality was really rather less impressive.

As the already slightly nervous crowd (See “The Spirit of Guido Fawkes”) took several steps backwards, the missile soared towards the stratosphere before exploding with all the ferocity of a Hamsters fart.

I wonder how Comical Ali would have spun that one?


4. JAMES FALLS OFF SUNSHINE MOUNTAIN

Nomination number two for young Jim, who once again demonstrated his complete lack of self-preservation when drunk by attempting to walk under every van/bus/car/bicycle on the streets of Twickenham

It was for his failed attempt to complete the challenging task of remaining on a train seat without falling off that many will remember as the highlight of the day.


5. LAGER THIEF LEAVES NIGE THIRSTY/HICCUPPY

It was going to be one of those nights, we had been seated in the Curry House for an hour before anyone even took our order. Eventually some lagers had arrived along with some starters (not necessarily the ones we had ordered but…)

Anyway with ¼ of a pint remaining and understanding that the staff were working on a different time-zone I had thought ahead and ordered a few more beers. The confused waiter looked at me for a moment, before picking up my pint and walking off.

The food eventually arrived but there was still no sign of the fresh pints we had ordered, or the remnants of my newly liberated first pint. It took just a few mouthfuls before I realised that this was going to be a particucularly strong Madras. As my face rolled through an entire spectrum of hues, the hiccups arrived!

I had then decided that being a hicuppy, sweaty, purple mess was more than reason enough to steal another mans pint.

You’ll be happy to know that I suvived the ordeal, but with long lasting damage to my ego.

Some drinks eventually did turn up, 35 minutes later, if anybody knows what became of my original pint please let me know. I still maintain a lone vigil to it’s memory!


So there you go. Who will win the Incredibly Small Trophy?

The Chiltie Awards will be announced on the 4th December 2006, so you have until then

Happy Voting.

When we were Kings

(Nige) There has always been a certain tradition around trips up to Twickenham to watch England Rugby Internationals.

Firstly, no matter what time we leave, we always seem to somehow arrive slightly too late and have to run for the train.

Secondly, several hipflasks filled with a vast variety of spirited substances have usually been consumed by the time we have to change trains at Clapham Junction.

Lastly, no trip to HQ is complete without the post match supper from Kings Fish’n’Chips.

So it was to our shock on Saturday that we discovered that Kings was no more, it had ceased to be. Bereft of frying it rests in piece!

Like the old South Stand at Twickenham it exists only now in memories and drunken photographs. Both were spectators to the era when England held the World Cup aloft in Triumph, and Fortress Twickenham was impregnable to all invaders.

Perhaps then it is only right that neither was around to see an England team jeered from the field of play by a Home crowd on the day England slumped to a 7-game loosing streak – a 40 year low!

Unfortunately nothing can stay the same forever, and with the World Cup looming on the horizon, it seems certain that the Webb Ellis trophy will not be coming home.

That golden age has passed - leaving us all slightly colder, slightly soberer, and pining for a warm, battered meal with extra vinegar.

I Like Trucking and I Like to Truck

(JB) This weekend saw the Bryson boys dust down their firework and cow-pat encrusted bodies and head to Brands Hatch for their season finale meeting. Top of the bill? Team Desperado and their cracking little VW Golf driven by motor racing legend and all round nice bloke, Russ Bradley.

Supporting him were the British Truck Racing Association boys. That's right. Trucks. Big, smoky, diesel trucks. And they don't half hang about either!

So in a shameless publicity stunt, go to www.snappyracers.com and then go to Gallery. You can't miss the trucks!

The Spirit of Guido Fawkes

(Nige) It was a few days after Halloween, yet I had found myself in a scenario familiar to anyone who has seen a horror film. I was stumbling about in the dark feeling my way gently towards the light. I wore the mists like a cloak, all around me nothing by white swirling cloud. With my fingertip in contact with the cold brick wall I edged slowly along the passage, knowing that if I edged but a step too far I would find myself knee deep in a pond with Koi nibbling at my ankles.

Several loud bangs assured me that I was headed in the right direction. Suddenly out of the swirling mists a shadowy figure looms into view, behind him a ghostly orangy glow. The figures face is filled with terror, as my feet stick to the ground in fear it lets out a terrified scream.

LEGGIT!!

All went quiet, what had I seen? Was it living or dead? What had caused the look of terror etched on that poor Souls face?

I doubted the figure to be Paranormal, as my personal view is that death is exactly like life, just with longer queues at the Post Office

I finally reached the end of the path to see several more shadowy figures lurking in the ever-thickening gloom.

The bangs erupted once more, as the ghostly silhouettes turned and began to move towards me. I hesitated, as I realised that there was nowhere left to run. Suddenly at one the shadows shouted out in one voice – “Happy Birthday!”

For this year Tom’s Guy Fawkes: Fireworks & First Aid Extravaganza had fallen upon my birthday. And as we stood upon his patio in a sustainable level of terror, thankfully most of the fireworks took off in a semi vertical direction.

Just the one had come towards the crowd, shortly before my arrival causing the thick smoke and the paniced figures I had seen,. Thankfully we are all still alive, we all had a lot to drink and only one person slipped on a cow-pat.

Now that’s a party!

EXCLUSIVE: The Not Quite Marathon Man

(Nige) Congratulations to our very own Jon “Radcliffe” Bryant who stormed home to a Personal Best 1,114th in the 2006 Barnes Green Half Marathon.

JB was disappointed to have so narrowly missed out on a podium finish but would like to point out that his finishing time was hindered by a bit of standing about posing for the cameras in assorted sporty headgear sparking rumours that JB’s sponsorship agreements had gone a bit further than taking a form around the local pubs.

JB Denied ever having taken any commercial endorcements claiming his unusual attire was "just something I had lying about". He then stormed off to his brand new Porsche.

JB, who has for the last few months been putting in lengthy evening runs after work, has now announced his future intention is to spend more time sitting on the sofa eating crisps and scratching.

He raised about £1,000 for Charadee and is now looking forward to getting back to the Bryson lifestyle of Pub-based sloth and Potted Noodle snack treats.

Look out for for the Inside story of JB's run right here on Brysonline, as soon as his pain has gone away.

JB's better half TC also featured in the race, and without the aid of commercial endorcements or "Qualifying-Spec" Running shoes finished a commendable 1122nd.

As for me, I was sat at home watching DTM on the Telly - well it was a Sunday!

Here We Go Again...

(Ads) So, we're back on Greenwich Mean Time. That can only mean one thing (or two) - winter is well and truly on its way, and our Government are yet again calling to abolish the time-changing exercise altogether.

Some argue that the roads will be safer for children and cyclists during the winter months if we stopped piddling around with the time.

Clearly, this is a misconception. Children thrive on the dark - they're all monsters anyway. And cyclists are pains in the arse throughout the year - regardless of whether they're wearing hi-vis jackets or have lights on or not.

This is, in fact, another swipe at the motorist commuter. To remain on Bristish Summer Time 365 days a year will mean the ice on our windscreens have had even less time to melt. The sun is perilously low in the sky to cause early morning blindness and less people will be able to claim sick leave due to Seasonal Affected Disorder.

I say, if you want longer days throughout the year, piss off to Kenya.

Ready the Red Carpet

It’s Almost November which means it’s got to be time for the Bryson Boys to get those submissions in for the 3rd Annual Chiltie Awards!

There is going to be a change in format this year in that there are no official catagories to mark the usual great achievement and drunken stupidity. Instead the field is open for anybody to nominate anybody or anything, for anything!

The best will be declared Chiltie Winners for 2006

The Only Category that does carry over from previous years is the Big One: The Bryson Moment of the Year (And the very small trophy that goes with it)

So get thinking peeps, and send in those Personal Triumphs, Embrassing Moments, Personal Injuries and Memorable Quotes.

The closing date for nominations will be Sunday the 12th of November 2006.

A Life Less Ordinary

For the last 12 months the question on everybody’s lips seems to have been “When will Michael Schumacher retire?”

Now he finally has sodded off back to Kerpen in Germany to sit and read his Sunday newspapers in peace, the question being asked has become “So when do you think Michael Schumacher will come back?”

I’m not asking it of course. My head is full of much more important questions such as “On a grey and overcast day, is there one big cloud in the sky or millions of ickle tiny ones scrunched together?”

The people asking if today’s newspapers are anything to go on are former World Champions Niki Lauda and Mika Hakkinen. Two people who well know the struggles of coming to terms with a life away from the Circuit. More important perhaps, two people who’s retirements were not as long as they had at first anticipated.

Mika of course is still racing in the Deutsch Tourenwagen Masters (DTM), were his will to win is as strong as ever it was. He did take a few years off after leaving the GP scene but ultimately the option to race in Europe’s premier tin-tops series proved too much for the two-time world champion.

Andreas Nikolaus Lauda (Niki to his mates) retired for the first time in 1979 to go and run his Airline in Austria. The possibility though of signing such a high profile driver did not escape the McLaren team - and when the Airline needed a cash injection in the early eighties - Ron’s phone call came at just the right time!

Lauda returned to the cockpit and proved he had lost none of the old sparkle. He beat Alain Prost to the title in 1984 by half a point. 12 months later Prost would have his day, and the raw speed of the French master probably confirmed to Lauda that it was time to go back once a for all to the Airline Business.

Nigel Mansell was another driver who could never escape the lure of the racetrack. He famously “walked away” from the sport on three occasions. His first retirement came in 1990 when angered at what he saw as team-mate Alain Prost’s preferential treatment at the Ferrari stable, Mansell announced he was quitting.

Mansell was eventually persuaded to reconsider by a generous Williams cheque and of course went on to take the World Championship in 1992 in the Fantastic FW14b. However Prost would again prove to be a thorn in his side as unbeknown to Nigel, he has been signed to the Williams Team for 1993. Mansell headed for the states, an Indycar Championship and Third place in the Indy 500 would Follow.

Mansell was to return to Williams in 1994 for a three race stint following the tragic death of the great Ayrton Senna. Mansell would win his 31st and final GP in Adelaide that year, out qualifying both championship contenders in the process. He tried to carry the momentum into a full comeback season at McLaren, but faced with a unspectacular car Mansell would lose motivation and leave before mid-season. Now of course his is still proving his speed by dominating two of the three inaugral GP Masters events

Of the other recent World Champions it is only Damon Hill who has successfully managed to avoid the pull back into the cockpit. He famously said that when he left F1 he would never race again. He has his new role as President of the British Racing Drivers Club and is in charge of bringing the Silverstone Circuit into the 21st century. A brief outing in a Renault F1 car in London and a test of a GP Masters car lead many to speculate on an iminant return, but Damon has stayed true to his word.

So will Michael Schumacher manage to adjust to a life away from the cockpit like his old sparring partner Damon Hill, or like many others, will the draw of Racing eventually prove far too much for the old master to suppress?

The Countdown Begins

145 Days, 15 Hours, 20 Minutes and 48 Seconds Before the Australian Grand Prix.

It's been a cracker of a season and I think I'm already starting to get withdrawl symptoms. It hasn't even been 24 hours yet!

It's all those unanswered questions that make it so appealing. Who will jump into the Schumacher shaped void. Will it be the young pretender with the penchant for comical facial foliage, or the other one - who may have escaped from Madame Tussauds but is still the fastest thing since Linford Christie last had the squits.

Then there's the new kids, who may be still wet behind the balaclavas, but are super talented and ready to set the world alight!

Not to mention our very own plucky Brit, now free of his shoulder mounted chip, who is keen to add to to his win tally of... One!

Well one's a start, there was a time even Michael Schumacher had only won One!

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145 Days, 14 Hours, 10 Minutes and 57 Seconds - It's no good, I'm going to have to do something to take my mind off it. I can't go out anywhere because it's raining, and I have already googled Katherine Legge more times than is probably healthy.

Football Manager 2007 has just come out, and that's a great way to lose several weeks of your life. I'll see what I can do to help Brighton & Hove Albion become champions of Europe.

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145 Days, 13 Hours, 51 Minutes and 37 Seconds - I'm sure plenty of managers get sacked in their first week, I'm not gonna let it get me down. I confess that my major stumbling block to managerial success is my complete ignorance of the round ball game.

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145 Days, 13 Hours, 44 Minutes and 37 Seconds... - Why do seconds have to be so slow? How long would a minute be if it was comprised of 60 Firsts? By How greater margin did First beat Second? What happened to the firsts if it is the seconds who went on to become the standardised measure of time?

Perhaps that's what I can do! 145 days is surely enough time to solve at least one riddle of the universe. I mean Doc Emmett Brown invented time travel in as long as it takes to fall off a toilet.

All I have to do is dedicate all my time and resources to... oh look there's there's a spider on my desk!

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145 Days, 13 Hours, 40 Minutes and 34 Seconds. Okay so my attempts at solving the riddles of the universe were flummoxed by an entertaining spider. It's again nothing to be ashaimed of. Apparently the only thing that prevented Einstein from completing his unified theory of everything was the playful antics of a small kitten.

Time may be crawling along on a Wet Monday afternoon, but there is a lot coming up to distract me. I've got the England vs Argentina game at Twickenham, Truck Racing at Brands Hatch, Toms Fireworks and First Aid extravaganza... then there's Christmas! All that yuletide merriment and such-like, topped with a seasonal special of Dr Who! And I'd forgotten completely about the new Bond film and a new release from Oasis!

Yes... it'll be the 2007 GP season will be here before I know it! I probably won't even have a moment to think about it. Busy, Busy Busy!!

... 145 Days 13 Hours, 32 Minutes and 11 Seconds!

History, My Story ...Everybody's Story!

Following the news last week of the Korean bomb, I told of my plans to Case my garden shed in lead and prepare for the worst. I was ready to adopt a life of hermitude equipped only with £2000 worth of Pot Noodles and a Game Boy. After pondering on various places in which to build my shelter, I finally settled on adopting the old environmentalists tactic of making a peace/love camp high up in the trees. (Well you’d need something to do when it was all over!)

The council however had other ideas, and soon told me to take it back down again as:

A: Apparently I needed planning permission and
B: The 200 year old oak tree I had chosen carried some sort of preservation order.

Basically I had just 24 hours to get this thing down before they slapped a court order on me. I reluctantly acquiesced and headed back to the woods where thankfully a combination of Gravity and half-arsed labour had beaten me to it. All that was left was a small pile of debris and the hope that no dogs had been relieving themselves against the aged oak at crucial moment.

I’ll blame it on a freak lightning bolt!

It’s probably for the best. There is a lot going on at the moment that it was probably the wrong time to start my hermitude. There is the Final Showdown between Schumacher & Alonso at Interlagos, The introduction of new Spicy Zinger Chicken at KFC, and Footballers seemingly taking my advise to heart and beginning to play with enough passion to Hospitalise half the Premiership.

Noel Edmonds continues his rise to World Domination, David Cameron is getting upset about Cows farting and somehow, somebody has managed to rake up even more Embarrassing stories about David Blunkett.

OK so these times may not match the splendour of Ancient Rome, The roads no longer lead anywhere as they’ve been turned into bus lanes, and the Vestal Virgins may all be claiming Child Support, but it’s still a fantastic moment in history.

Which is why the National Trust want everybody to "Blog their Day" and try to build a comprehensive guide for future Generations on the delights in living in the World of iPods and James Blunt.

So to get involved in Britains biggest blog, and get your chance to be listed the archives of the British Library, why not take a look at the History Matters website

History Does Matter, and unlike that splintered Oak Tree it will be around forever!

To Dream the Improbable Dream

It has to be said that I don’t particularly care for Soccerball. I would go as far as to say I don’t know my Arsenal from my Elbow!

Which is why on days like this morning I feel slightly isolated from the Water Cooler talk about David Beckham’s imminent return, or something called a 3-5-2.

In fact the only part of last nights England International I did catch was the fantastic moment when the Goalkeeper forgot how to kick a ball and watched it trickle into his own net.

It took me back to my own school days, where many a games lesson was ended by me being locked a kit cupboard which was slowly being filled with fire extinguisher foam.

But of course I was never a professional sportsperson and so my total lack of hand-eye-foot-head co-ordination is justifiable. If you are being paid £50,000 a week to play football, it should be too much to ask that you be able to kick a ball with your foot!

While I was at the Water Cooler expressing this opinion and generally mocking the entire team, I was fixed with a gaze and asked “But where’s your sense of national pride?”

Has it really come to this? Has the idea of pride in our Nation been reduced to nothing more than wearing a white shirt and singing “Football’s coming Home” or “Ten German Bombers in the Sky”

There was a time when everything about being British was great. Brunel was building the world, and Queen Victoria was running it. London was the centre of Science and innovation and our Industry was the envy of the World.

Now our cars are built by the Americans and the Germans, our industry has been knocked down and replaced by Retail Parks or Designer Housing. Even the Queen Mary 2 - the flagship of the merchant fleet and the very symbol of “Britannia rules the waves” - was built by the French.

The French are a country who know how to exhibit National Pride and Ambition. Just look at the Tarn Valley Bridge: £270million, 1.5 miles long, 36,000 tonnes and 270 metres up in the sky. The clouds actually float under your car! They could actually stand the Eiffel Tower underneath it but it would probably piss off the people of Paris.

The last Bridge we built across the River Thames had to be closed after a day because it was too wobbly!

We don’t know who we are or where we’re going because we just don’t look at the big picture. If that bloke with the crazy sideburns from the Space Flight centre in Leicester announced that Britain would by 2017 land a man on Mars, would we get behind the project and reach for the stars? No, we’d moan that the money grabbing git was taking beds away from the NHS, books out of Schools and Speed Cameras off the M4.

The football team is just a reflection the nation at large. Tired, uninspired and quickly falling behind the rest of the world whilst still bleating on about long-past glories.

As a Nation we have been asleep for a long time. Perhaps it’s now time to Dream again. Remember, The Tarn Valley Bridge may have been built by the French, but it was dreamt up by a Brit.

And if we can Design a road that flies above the clouds, I suppose we might even manage to Qualify for the European Football Championships.

Paul Hunter

Three-time Masters Champion Paul Hunter has died of cancer at the age of 27.

The Leeds man was taken to Kirkwood Hospice last Friday but died Monday evening.

Paul was diagnosed in March 2005 with dozens of neuro endocrine tumours on the lining of his stomach.

He endured months of chemotherapy, but continued to play snooker after a year off to fight the disease.

Paul leaves wife Lyndsey and baby daughter Evie, who was born on Boxing Day last year.

He will be sorely missed by everyone, and our thoughts go out to his family and friends at this difficult time.

Farewell to the longest weekend

Now it will come as no surprise I’m sure, to hear me confess to being quite lazy.

It’s true that even as I sit here now I am weighing the pressures of full bladder vs the soft padded comfort of my reclining office chair.

Usually at the weekend I shall fall into my bed in the early hours of the morning and stay there until Monday. However there are always exceptions!

The Japanese Grand Prix at Suzuka has always been one such exception. There are some fly-away races which I don’t mind watching 12 hours later on the replay. Suzuka though, probably due to it often being the place were the World Championship has been decided, is always watched live.

This is where my lazyness comes to into play.

I cannot set an alarm clock for 5-to-6 and get-up. In fact in order for me to be up for 6 the alarm would probably need to have been ringing since 4. So Suzuka for me has always been an all-nighter, if you can’t get up then just don’t go to bed!

Suzuka is one of those places that never gives you a boring race, again probably because the fate of the World Championship is usually at stake. I cannot believe that this weekend may have been the grand old circuit’s swansong.

And what a GP she gave to us. A totally unexpected championship swing against Michael Schumacher as his Ferrari splutters to a halt under the flyover.

In the meantime I will fondly remember all those years sitting in my living room in the dark, fighting back the sleep. I will remember the one-man conga line I did around my living room when Damon Hill won the championship in 1996. I will remember Schumacher stalling on the grid there in 1998. I will remember the battles Royale between Senna and Prost, and the Rain affected GP of 1994 (Possibly Damon’s finest Drive!)

The Japanese Grand Prix will move to the rather less exciting Fuji circuit next season, and only time will tell whether that becomes an event worthy of an all nighter.

In the meantime, if anybody wants me, I’m off for a power nap!

Don’t Panic, Don’t Panic!

“…The Koreans have got the bomb, don’t Panic!!”

That’s probably what Lance Corporal Jones would have said had he heard the news this morning. Of course Clive Dunn’s famous character was I guess in his 80’s in the 1940’s so his chances of having made it until the 60’s were pretty slim.

Still no time for that, gotta build a bomb shelter!

Well bomb shelters were kinda pricey so I’m just going to clad this flatpack shed with corrugated iron. I’ll just leave a small gap for the window to be opened, don’t want it to get too stuffy in there!

Right then I suppose I’d have to stay in there a while, so some sort of beverage and daily comestibles would be required. Now space is going to be an issue so I’ll have to cut it right down the basics. My Meal ration will be a Pot Noodle and a 4-pack of Cobra Lager.

Now 3 meals a day for… well it’s gonna be a while, let’s say a year! That’s 1,095 Pot Noodles and 4,380 Bottles of Indian Ale. I’m going to obvious need a Kettle to prepare my potted meal and some sort of refrigeration for my lager – well we’re not savages!

OK, I’ll strap a generator to the roof and a ladder to the side of the shed so I can climb up and refuel the … FUEL!!!

I’m going to need a healthy stock of Diesel to keep that chugging away. Now lets say that in a week it will use about half of what it takes to run my car, that’s gonna be £7,200 Worth of juice, and I’ve just spent £1,600 on Pot Noodles!

Space is becoming an issue, I might have to move this shed into some sort of warehouse. Let’s make it one with it’s own forklift, it’ll help ease the boredom, perhaps some crates to form the outline of a track!

Ok so where am I now on costs… about £250,000 plus the costs of a forklift licence.

And I haven’t even begun to think about a fully plumbed toilet and digital TV so I can watch Motor Racing.

Ah sod Armageddon, I’ll just go down the pub like everyone else!

The Age of the Train? ...well 30 actually!

Happy Birthday to a true British Icon

Some call it the High Speed Train, others the Intercity 125 - Those who wear bright coloured waterproofs and stand on railway platforms in Crewe might even be heard to mutter that it’s a Class 43 DMB with 8-car MkIII Consist - I just think they’re Brilliant!

OK so the TGV is bigger, faster, smoother shinier and almost any other “er” you can Imagine, but it was also expensive, and back in the 1970’s Britain was Broke!

The ageing fleet of Diesels needed to be replaced, and there was demand for a High Speed Train to bring the network into the 20^th century. The problem was that when it came to running a super-quick train, it was advantageous not to have Victorian bendy tracks. The French and the Japanese had led the way with super straight, superfast railways. That was going to be expensive!

The solution was to build a train which could run at these speeds on the existing track, without the need for a massive reconstruction of the rail network.

Now much of this network was still unpowered at the time, and the Advanced Passenger Train project (The tilty train) would have meant that a massive electrification project was needed. So it would take a diesel to do the job, and what a diesel they got – 2250bhp!

Eventually the Tilty trains would be abandoned after somebody felt a bit queasy, and the 125’s would be the staple of the network until electrification was complete in the 90’s.

My first trainset as a kid was of an Intercity 125, and the first time I ever saw one at Euston Station, I knew that one day I would be an engine driver! Years later of course I took a job in the advertising industry – So I have a short attention span!

Like Concorde, the Routemaster, the Mini and the Spitfire, the Intercity 125 is an emblem of Britain – an understated design classic. May they ride our rails for years to come, and seldom breakdown or encounter the wrong kind of snow.

The Incredible Hulkenberg & Other Short Stories

Well what a weekends racing we had, and just goes to show what a bit of precipitation can do to spice up the on track action. Add to this mix one of the Great Arenas of Motorsport and you were pretty much guaranteed a memorable experience.

I am not of course talking about the exploits of Schumacher et al in China, but of a meeting which kicked off Live, at a much more sociable hour!

I wrote last week about the success of the A1GP series last year, and judging by the series opening at the mighty Zandvoort, this sophomore year is going to be something very special indeed.

It didn’t seem to matter that by knocking 10 minutes off the sprint race it had become more pointless than ever, because those ten minutes were added to the feature – and the feature was a corker.

Of course it was slightly annoying that when the Dutch heavens finally opened in a monsoon-like styleé, we shot back to a London studio and some slightly embarrassed faces. Still it is reassuring to know that it is not only my sky dish that won’t work in the rain.

France led, then Britain looked to Steel the Show but were caught out by the rain. Then to the Home fans delight the Dutch car took the lead, but gambled the track would stay wet and would eventually be caught. The USA braved the wet on slicks in a gamble which very nearly paid off, but it was to be Germany who eventually came through at the flag to taste the bubbly.

This series in it’s second year is overflowing with talented young drivers eager to show the world what they can do, and the series is stronger for it.

It was even alleged that Mercedes motorsport supremo Norbert Haug has skipped the Chinese GP, to go and watch Hulkenburg. He must have been pleased with what he saw.

Dispite Jon’s opinions to the opposite, I can see a long and healthy future for the A1GP, after all Jon did tell me with all sincerity 3 years ago that there would never be another GP at Silverstone - apparently 2007 ticket sales are going very well!

It is sadly lost on Sky to the casual viewer, and would benefit from a terrestrial Highlights package. The Qualifying is still bonkers and the Sprint race could afford with loosing another 20 minutes and disappearing altogether. However the ingredients are there, and I can't wait until they arrive back at Brands Hatch in February.

It all of course continues this weekend at Brno, and I shall certainly be watching.

- Oh and apparently there is an F1 race as well!

The Wall Game

Now here at Brysonline we know a bandwagon when we see one and are always keen to throw ourselves enthusiastically in its direction.

Newspapers have tried many things over the years to encourage people away from the free websites and back to the Daily press with all that need to know stuff like; Who’s Tara Palmer Bananarama bonking now, and what David Beckham thinks about Cheese.

As if the nocturnal habits of the so-called celebritys wasn’t enough to have you stampeding to the newsagents with your 40p, they sweeten the deal by offering you that little bit more. My bookshelves are near bursting point with complementary Mr Men books, Dad’s Army DVDs and of course the Daily Mails Children’s collection, which I am to treasure for years to come… apparently!

Don’t tell anybody but I’m actually using Treasure Island to prop up my wobbly desk and The Railway Children to swat crane flies.

Now of course the order of the day is Wallcharts. From my beautifully illustrated wallchart I can now play an amateur David Bellamy in my own back garden. Unfortunately the only animals I could find in my back garden are Next doors cat, and a slightly podgy wood pigeon – neither of which was shown on my Chart of British Butterflies.

And so Brysonline is pleased to announce out own range of Wallcharts which can be yours to treasure for only £79.99 and 15 proofs of purchase from the Gibraltar branch of Marks & Spencer.

They Include:

• The 9’o-clock Scale: How to tell if Macca is Pissed
• Jim’s guide to Fighting your own Garage Door
• Adams Countdown to Casino Royale
• JB’s guide to Great British Hats
• WW1 Airship Recognition
• and Big Nige Drinks the Lagers of the World

All are painstakingly created by experts in the medium of crayon, and presented in a special presentation padded envelope – only used once before!

An Itsy Bitsy Cock-up!

Just picture the scene: there you are about to tuck into your Breakfast, you open the news paper and read to your astonishment that you’re dead!

This scenario played out for Paul Vance, the man who wrote the song "Itsy Bitsy, Teenie Weenie, Yellow Polka Dot Bikini"

Even the BBC News website for a time carried this story. I know as I was tempted to make a comment on it, along the lines of "Timmy Mallett however, is still very much alive and well!"

The man who had actually died had for years claimed to have written the song, but these claims were never substantiated.

Needless to say Mr Vance’s family and friends, still trying to get over the news of his death, must have been blown away when they went round to pay their respects and he answered the door!

A1 at 2

It’s going to mean a few early starts this weekend as the Grand Prix season hits the home stretch. The almost comically out-of-proportion Shanghai circuit will play host to what will most probably be the next round of the Schumacher retirement bash.

Of course Renault, as always, will be doing everything to ruin the party. New swanky engines with extra zing (Technical terms all!) and a driver with less a chip, more an entire potato harvest on his shoulder.

Between the Last stand of the old master and the Indefatigable, almost clockwork precision of Alonso, this is certainly going to be a good race. Let us all hope that the rest of the season play’s out without "outside interference"

This weekend also marks the second birthday of A1GP. 12 months on from the naysayers predictions of doom, the series is back and looking strong. Circuits that failed to promote the series have fallen by the wayside and made room for Brno, Taupo and the ever exciting Zandvoort. After a year on the road cheering on Jos Verstappen the Dutch have been rewarded with their own race, and it was an almost immediate sell-out. (I know, I tried to get tickets!)

After a fantastic first race at Brands - on a glorious day as I nostalgically remember –my interest in the series dropped, to the point I then missed the first half of the season. Team France topped the results pages in Autosport and it looked a one sided contest. In terms of points, wins and prizemoney it was, but that was almost to miss the point.

It was rare that France ever had an entire race go their way. Brazil, GBR, The Swiss and the Dutch were always knocking on the door, and Canada and South Africa also tasted the bubbly.

The fact was that even though the podiums did look a bit regular, the races that lead to them never were! As a format A1GP worked, even when the cars and the tyres didn’t. By the end of the season it was beginning to look like the races could be won by anyone. You only have to look at the podium for Shanghai last year to see that the form book could be thrown away by any driver ready to raise the bar.

And so as it enters it’s second season promising action all the way, I raise my glass to A1GP – Long may it last!

And good luck to Darren Manning and Team GBR!

Hamster Update

Richard Hammond has been photographed laughing and joking as he is moved from the Leeds Hospital in which he has been since his accident last Wednesday.

The Top Gear presenter is making remarkable progress as he recovers from his 300mph jet-car accident.

We look forward to seeing him make a full recovery as soon as possible.

WMD - Winged Menaces of "Durr"

As a follow-up to Nige's post about our resident retarded winged rats, I am compelled to inform you of a very recent near miss while on my lunch break earlier today.

Not only is the common pigeon so stoopid it can't tell when a two tonne vehicle is careering towards it at bone-annihilating speed, but they are also completly oblivious to their surroundings when in flight as well, as I came within a few inches of being impaled, javelin-stylee by the little buggers. I could actually hear the "whoosh" of the air as it beamed past - a couple a inches to the right and it would've smashed a couple of my ribs.

It's things like this that scars a man for life, not being smacked when you were little. I'm surprised there haven't been fatalities in Trafalgar Square, or at least a few bird-related injuries on Casualty.

It's not just pigeons either. Only a few months ago at Le Mans, Nige almost suffered a fatal head wound as a missled toward him. Had he not have ducked, Tom, Macca and myself would've had to break the news to his parents that "Nige was impaled by a tit". But on reflection that night, it's what he would have wanted.

So in conclusion, we should all count our blessings. We may avoid being hit by a car or mugged on the street, but far too little time is taken to consider the risks of the low flying bird. So if you see one while driving and it's in your way - hit it. Don't slow down, flash your lights or parp it, because nothing is more satisfying than seeing a localised fireworks-esque plume of feathers. The best part is, if it's a pheasent, the person behind you is allowed to take it, cook it and eat it.

Do you know anyone who'd complain about a free meal?

Another Victory for Science

Just 24 hours ago I pleaded with the worlds clever people to stop working on whizzier weather forecast graphics and instead turn their attention to the things that will make life better in the 21st century.

I can now announce that they have done me proud. Scientists have now invented, oh I can hardly control the excitement, a Hypoallergenic Cat.

So now even the strongest of allergy sufferers can enjoy all the fun of owning a cat, and I'm told there is some.

Understandably these specially tweeked moggies cost a fair old whack, but they do replace the current Anti-Allergy System as demonstrated here by my Auntie Merryl and Mister Tom.

Personally I am going to hold out until they can make them glow in the dark, but it's a step in the right direction.

The scientists are back on the game. Those Jetpacks will be in the shops by Xmas!!

Rain or Shine?

It’s getting to that time of year where the weather forecasters reach for their favourite word, Autumnal. It is a word that can be used to describe a large number of meteorological outcomes without actually describing anything at all.

In fact I watched a weather bulletin the other night and came away absolutely none the wiser as to whether or not I should be donning shorts or waterproofs. I did however learn that is was going to be a bit breezy in Ireland, which wasn’t really going to come in handy.

It’s not the poor forecasters fault of course. They have just a few quick moments to say what’s going on in every part of this Atlantic island rock we call home. Just a few quick moments to give each of the 60million people who live here the weather news for their locality, and still have to look smug whilst doing it.

Back-in-the-day it was all so much easier. If there was a Big Yellow Sun or a Big Black cloud over my house then I had a pretty good Idea what was going on. Now I have to tell if I fall into the Dingy brown or the Shitty brown, and even then I have no idea which means what.

Yellow Sun brings images of sea-sides and 99’s and old men with hankies on their heads. The thought of a fast moving front of shitty brown bearing down on you like a turdal tsunami is enough to drive you to emigrate, rather then think fondly of summers past.

I know we live we live in the 21^st century and that everything should be whizzy and have flashy lights and stuff. And whereas I love the fact that I will soon be able to carry everything ever commercially recorded by anyone around on my iPod, and can’t wait for the first VR Consoles, not everything needs to be fixed.

Like the wheel, some things just work. Some thing’s everybody can understand!

And a big yellow cartoon sun was one of those things!

So stop trying to jazz up the weather forecasts, just tell me the weather! And put all those science people to work on building me the Jetpack I was Promised!

Free Publicity!!!

Nige is always on at me saying that I should use Bryson as a free publicity tool. So I am.

Yesterday saw me heading to Brands for the qualifying day for the British Touring Car Championship that Neil maintains is dull. But I wanted some nice shots of some nice cars. So I went along with my step ladder, some sandwiches and a memory card. Although I should have gone with 2 memory cards. The other one was sat on the desk just over there (not my stolen desk...)

So if you want to see the pics then go here!

Stop Thief!!!

The thieving little bastards!!! Aside from the amazement of me actually making a post, I carry terrible news about the state of the nation.

Not content with breaking into the site office for my construction hard hat modelling company, they broke everything they could possibly lay their hands on. But that's not the hilarious thing...

You see, they stole my desk. They actually physically stole my work desk. But left my work computer. I mean, someone somewhere is going to be sold a second hand desk that has been used and abused on site for the best part of 5 years.

So beware people of the internet. If you go to a car boot sale and there's a desk with my size 13's imprinted on it then for God's sake don't buy.

I took half the bolts out of it in boredom on Tuesday.

Knowing the Risks

According to the latest news this lunchtime, Richard Hammond remains seriously ill at a Leeds Hospital although his condition is now described to be stable. The BBC news reported that Top Gear co-hosts Jeremy Clarkson and James May have been at his bedside.

The three presenters have become a global success after steering the show from a bland BBC consumer programme to the unmissable entertainment extravaganza it has become. I know from a personal Level that the first thing I usually say in the pub on a Monday night is “Did you see Top Gear last night?”

However the show has become increasingly a target for certain bands of the political spectrum. Lobbyists call for the programme to be cancelled for “Glamorising Speed” and it has been Openly criticised by MPs.

Recent events, and the investigation which is sure to follow, are sure to be the catalyst for a charge of the Cotton Wool brigade.

“Motor Racing is Dangerous” reads the bold text on the back of every ticket, and the recent Death of Peter Brock is surely testament to that fact.

But in a world were Kids can only play conkers if wearing goggles, and sunbathers are encouraged to tan through a radiation suit, there are still people who are prepared to fight against the monotony and take these risks. All necessary precautions are taken but ultimately nothing can prevent the unexpected.

Like Steve Irwin, Richard knew the risks of what he was doing, but chose to do it anyway because that’s what he loved. This incident should not be allowed to let critics of Top Gear tear it apart. Now is not the time to use his name to fight against what he believed in.

We all wish “Hamster” the best and our thoughts remain with his family.

Hammond Accident

I'm sure I speak for all of us here when I say that tonight our thoughts are with Richard Hammond who, according to the BBC News, has been seriously injured while filming the new series of Top Gear.

He has recieved serious injuries following an accident whilst filming in a jet powered car, and his condition is tonight reported as "Critical".

We are all fans of both Richard and TG, and had been talking about seing him live at the MPH06 show in November.

We all hope for swift news of his recovery

Seeing Red? - You May Be!

It has long been the opinion of this enthusiast that Motor Racing should be a simple affair. X amount of cars have to cover Y miles, the first to do so, let's call em "Z", gets a nice Cup and serenaded by his/her national anthem. In general that concept has applied to most forms of Road Racing since the early days of the Gordon Bennett Trophy Races.

What always riles me are the small tweaks series keep making to “Make it Interesting for the Fans” I still cannot understand why at the end of a GP Qualifying session, for example, Cars tootle round for 10 or twenty laps just burning fuel. What’s wrong with putting a smaller amount of fuel in the car, and letting the driver get straight down to doing the zippy stuff.

Today Autosport’s website reports that Bridgestone, slightly concerned at the major drop in public interest after they become the sport’s lone tyre supplier, want’s to introduce a Champcar style double compound system.

This means that a team will, at some point during a race, have to switch from a Hard Compound Tyre to a Soft Compound tyre, these softer compound tyres will be indicated to the Joe Spectator by the presence of a red walled tyre.

The argument is that it forces teams to think of strategy; do they run the faster, softer tyres early, or save them for a late race surge.

I dislike that word strategy, it’s useful if you are chess grand master, but I don’t choose to spend my Sundays watching chess. If you look at my XYZ Formula I set out at the beginning, strategy doesn’t even feature.

Surely the 2005 season, one of the most exciting for many years, owed everything to the rule change that stated Tyres must last an entire race distance. In other words 2005 proved that tyres should remain a condiment to the main course meal that is the sport. I don’t want them fried up and offered to me as a garnish.

I apologise my mind is wondering, it’s nearly lunchtime!

So here’s a suggestion to spice up racing, stop adding silly rule changes and go back to XYZ. Cars can go 200 miles on one set of tyres, in fact it helps separate the good drivers from the great drivers, as they will be able to conserve the ones they have. Fuel stops may make great telly with the constant threat of a Pit Lane BBQ, but it is an unnecessary risk. Cars should be able to go 200 Miles on one tank of go-go juice. In fact they did so quite happily for years.

There doesn’t need to always be an overcomplicated and expensive solution to a problem that doesn’t exist. It’s can all be as simple as XYZ!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch Changes

Those of you who are keen of eye and regular of bowel might have noticed that the site looks a bit different today. If the site looks decidedly different and features non of the animal welfare information you were looking for then I’d advise that you have come to the wrong page and should in fact try the RSPCA.

Obviously with me investing a lot of time in the complete rebuild of JB’s site I have been neglecting this one slightly, but never fear dear friends (or in fact be very scared indeed- depending on your mood) for I shall endevour to put fingers to keyboard and come up with something soon.

In the mean time Ad’s assures me that he has plenty more jokes left over from his short but memorable stint in the Christmas Cracker factory, and Rumour has it that Chi-Chi may even post something!

I however would place that last newsflash in the bracket of “Loch Ness Monster Sighted” or “Charlotte Church given own Chatshow”

…what really?

Well then I suppose anything’s possible!

Legends of Olde West Chilt - Part 34

Twas the year of our lord 1639, as it had been for four years before that, it seemed the century was in denial it had ever hit 40, In the quiet streets and noisy nightclubs of the small Sussex hamlet that became West Chiltington (It was in a more Easterly direction at the time) a sinister plot was unfolding like a ill-constructed origami swan. The Streets were deserted, save the ever-present presence of the Slothmaster Persuivant and his ASDA Sausage roll. (As you all know from history 1639+4 was the year of the Great Ginsters Strike).

As he looked from left to right, from north to south, from Lazzards to Snizkapadiens he could see not a soul on the streets. For it was dark and he was wearing sunglasses!

Beyond the Grand entrance to Ye Olde Queens none could be seen, and as the White Everest van sped through the deepest of puddles, there was not a soul to splashed!

The Slothmaster Stands and decrees aloud "Well bugger this then!" as he trundles down east street towards his next desirable destination of destiny.

In a small Cellar beneath the Newsagents, a crowd had gathered, they were away from the prying eyes of all who could see, however all who might have seen where in the room too, so it almost defied the point.

Why they had gathered in this place, they were to suprise the only man who was not yet hidden, to mark the anniversary of his birth.

The only noise, an constant rhythmic metronome as Ted and Justine played table tennis with two Wagon Wheels and a Cadburys Crème Egg

All around the sinister & devious eyes looked shiftily at one another, nobody trusting the others not to steal their private stash of Terry's Chocolate Oranges

As the air in the room drew less, they pondered on their friends non-arrival, and the fact that door had shut, and could only be opened from the outside

Dismayed by the absence of all, the Slothmaster faded away into the night. 40 years had passed by the time he next ambled into West Chiltington to discover in his horror, everybody had lost their hair!

The Last Encore

When Blair’s secret retirement memo was leaked and splashed all over the papers, the phrase that sparked my imagination was “Leave them like the star who wouldn’t give that final encore”

Now I was thinking, what if he was to do that encore. What if at the end of the party conference he was to climb on stage with his bow tie pulled open and give them all one final hurrah. “Piano, Maestro….”

And now, the end is near;

And so I face the dinner circuit

One Hundred grand a night

Depending on how hard I work it

I’ve lived a life of spin

Put bus lanes, on every highway

But the Unions, they won’t have this

They still want higher pay.

Wars, I’ve had a few;

WMD, I shall not mention

I did all, I had to do

When George called it to my attention

I planned a legacy of hope

Saved cuddly foxes from extinction

And for a while they all forgot about

MRSA

Yes, there were times, it looked so bleak

When Prescott was, joke of the week

But through it all, I fought it out

I got my caring, coffee cup out

I faced the press, smiled at them all

Until they went Away

I tried to cure, world poverty

The Olympic bid, was won by me

Of course, we’ll get it done

Just don’t mention Wembley

Oh yes Britain, she has grown

Me at the tillar, me on the throne

Until they stabbed me in the back

Said Tony, Go Away!

What’s a PM, What has he Got?

If his backbenchers, decieve and plot!

The fog of war, has blinded me

Iraq will prove my legacy

The record shows, I Ignored the Polls

And did it my way!

Join us next week for John Prescott singing Home on the Range, and Margaret Beckett’s caravan of Love

Bad Joke Alert!

I know it's been a while, and I only have ten minutes to write and post this, so no faffing about...

A frog goes into a bank and approaches the teller. He can see from her nameplate that her name is Patricia Whack.

"Miss Whack," he said, "I'd like to get a $30,000 loan to take a holiday."

Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name. The frog says his name is Kermit Jagger, his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it's okay, he knows the bank manager.

Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral. The frog says, "Sure. I have this," and produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about an inch tall, bright pink and perfectly formed.

Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office. She finds the manager and says, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $30,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." She holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"

The bank manager looks back at her and says... "It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

Sorry, I won't do anything like that again.

The Not Quite News

Brysonline regrettably announces the near hospitalisation of contributor Nige. It is believed that he had made a foolhardy attempt to hold his breath until one of the others finally made a post.

He was found in a Northerly direction by a delivery boy from his local Tandoori, they had apparently been alarmed that his Nightly Madras order had not been received. Early reports suggest that after he had turned blue, he not only passed out but also passed water. After helping himself to a reasonable tip and watching a few films on Sky Box office, the delivery boy raised the alarm by lighting a cigar too close to the smoke detector.

Nige is believed to have been taken to a nearby hospital by the medics but managed to escape and make his way into a pub for last orders.

Police are asking that if a slightly inebriated man in an open backed gown is spotted, he should not be approached, especially from the rear.

Unexpected Surprise’s

Well when it finally came I am sure everybody was equally shocked my Michael Schumacher’s spontaneous retirement. Or rather as spontaneous as you can get without the entire Motor Racing community having been openly discussing it for over 12 months now.

I did hear a report of an elderly gentlemen in Loughborough who leaped up in shock as the announcement was made, but it later transpired that a mid-air collision between his pouncing cat and a coffee cup was to blame. Apparently if he keeps applying the lotion as advised then he will be back to his old trouser wearing self by Thursday.

I'd imagaine the trackside spectators at Lydden Hill on Saturday were surprised by the sight of a Photographer falling head first into a stack of tyres. Fear not fellow enthusiasts as I can tell you that he escaped with only a small bruise to his ego. This I know as it was none other than our own resident Amateur Photographer and trainee tumbler, JB.

I’m sure he will expand on this story at a later date as I know he has to Plug his own website from time to time, and he has some pictures he would greatly like to sell you all. (Unfortunately he doesn’t have a photo of his legs waving helplessly from that tyre stack but we will all be keeping an eye out for this weeks Autosport.)

One of the biggest surprise’s I have ever received occurred exactly 12 months ago today.

At the bequest of the Lesser-spotted Macca we had all been summoned to the pub where we were expecting a special announcement.

Obviously the Bryson rumour mill sprang into action and we had guessed everything from them having bought a new house, to getting engaged, or even the prospect of the soon to be lesser heard footsteps from an ickle lesser spotted maccette!

What did happen stunned us all. It was the return of Chi-Chi and Mrs Chi-Chi from their round the world Honeymoon (12 months early!)

Of course the shock was even greater as just 5 days earlier we had all gone out to a curry house to mark their Wedding Anniversary and to toast absent friends, had we waited a week they’d have been there!

So tonight we will gather again as Chi-Chi recounts the tale of how stunned we were, and I’m sure we’ll all have a good laugh at the thought of JB’s legs waving from that tyre stack!

Lights, Camera, Action!

In Truth there has only really been one good film about Grand Prix Racing, the aptly named 1966 effort “Grand Prix” by John Frankenheimer.

Of course a few years ago Sylvester Stallone came with an Idea to make a more modern Film, but was denied the access he needed and eventually went off to Champ Car. (Probably for the best as I’m sure anyone who has ever sat through “Drivel”… I mean “Driven” would agree).

I however think I have had a great idea for a cracking, if ever-so-slightly cliched script. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you “The Will To Win”

Picture the opening Sequence, a young boy forces his way through the crowds to pear though a gap in the fence. His be-bearded Hero has just won his home Grand Prix and is seemingly waltzing to the title.

Now comes the bit of Action to liven things up a bit, who wants to see a film about somebody who always has it their own way. We introduce another character, an Old Master.

In a darkened room men converse, they decide that the field needs to be levelled here. The Old Master is nearing the end of his illustrious career and they can’t let him leave the scene a broken and beaten man.

So rules are changed and suddenly our hero finds his car Illegal. In an act of desperation he shaves off his beard, but it’s not enough. The advantage he had has gone, and what’s more he’s finding his lead eroding away, but it’s not going quick enough. Suddenly he finds that he is penalised again, this time for something so trivial even his rival drivers are stunned. Fighting from the back he gets to within spitting distance of a championship saving podium in his rivals back-garden when his car breaks, dumping him by the roadside.

After all these months it has just come down to a straight shoot out between the old master and his until recently comically be-bearded Spanish rival. Our hero verses the conspiracy to send the old master off with yet another title, and an unbeatable place in history.

But in true Hollywood form our Hero at the last corner of the last lap takes the lead to the championship and a moral victory!

Of course it would all just be fiction, it says so during the end credits. Any connection to characters living or dead is purely co-incidental

End of the Road?

Last weekend, whilst wondering through the Goodwood Paddock, I stumbled upon what at first seemed to be Morris Minor. It was in fact a Holden engined Austin A30, in Blue and Yellow and bearing the image of a cartoon Kangaroo. The name on this unlikely looking racing machine was Peter Brock. The Aussie Maestro scored 102 wins in that car from 65 Meetings. As I pictured in my mind the sight of this car balanced on the edge of adhesion on the twists and turns of Mount Panorama, I thought ”Brockie, You sure had balls!”

Those thoughts came back to me this morning when JB told me the news of his death.

We all know and accept that Motor racing is a dangerous game, and thanks to the work of the unsung many we do now live in an age where fatalities are a rare thing at the top level. It is of course always the most shocking when accidents befall the very best.

I’m sure there will be many glasses raised to his memory in the Monza paddock this weekend as the Grand Prix season moves onto the home stretch.

One man who will certainly have a lot on his mind this weekend is another true Great of Motorsport – one M. Schumacher.

The big question on everybody’s lips this year has been will he go, or will he stay on?

Of course we only have to wait a few more hours to find out. If, as many believe, he announces that it is time to call it a day, it will be the end of Grand Prix racing’s most illustrious and controvertial career. Anybody who received a book of Motor Racing records prior to the 2000 season might as well tear it up, there is little left that Michael hasn’t stamped his name on in Style.

I freely admit that I have never been his most ardent supporter. We got off on the wrong foot in the early days due to his tendency keep bumping into Damon Hill. Over the years he his insatiable will to win has lead to many well publicized moments of madness which have been documented over and over at length elsewhere.

Yet I do feel proud that I was a witness to this man, to this chapter in Motor Racing history which will be talked about for as long as cars are raced. I was at Silverstone when he scored his 80^th Grand Prix victory, and if he can lead the field home tomorrow he will have reached 90. To put that into perspective, Jackie Stewart’s entire career lasted 99 Races!

I am still secretly hoping that just maybe he will stay on another year, give us all the battle with Raikonnen we’ve been dreaming about. Perhaps even a shock move to finish his career where he started, behind the wheel of a Mercedes!

That said it will come as no surprise to me to hear that he will instead choose to spend the 2007 season sitting in front of the telly in his slippers, smoking the odd cigar. Who knows, maybe one year he too will come to Goodwood, I’d love to see what he could do with Brockie’s Austin.

Peter Brock

The King of the Mountain, Australian Touring Car legend Peter Brock has died after an accident during a rally in Western Australia.

Brock who raced to Nine victories in the Legendary Bathurst 1000 race at Mount Panorama was 61 years old.

Motor Racing today has lost a true great, and Australia a national hero. To quote JB, "...we are privallaged to have seen him race"

The Bryson Boys Lexicon

GAZEBO: A once innocent word referring to a simple wooden garden structure developed a whole new life after the nocturnal activities of one Bryson member were made public. Anyone fancy a quick Gazebo?

LAZZARD: Maccas slip of the tongue on a drunken night at Aux Portes du Circuit in Le Mans gave birth to a Bryson Battle Cry. Generally referring to being so drunk you can’t get your words out. Let’s Get Lazzard or On the Lazz are the most common uses.

SCORN: Feel my Scorn. Usually reserved for moments when somebody else has blagged something free and the rest of us did not.

FANTASTIC: Chi-Chi’s famous war-cry!

STYUF: Abbreviation of “See-through yet ultimately frustrating”, a source of great anxiety for Chi-Chi. Generally refers to articles of feminine nightwear.

WARP-FACTOR JON: Normal Life run at 3x the speed. Seemingly contradictory to the Bryson philosophy of general Sloth.

GROOVEARSE: Big Nige’s Mini Cooper as christened by Adams Sister.

GINGER: JB’s old Fiesta. His pride of having a new car vanished rapidly as out of the sea of blank faces comes the exclamation “…but it’s Ginger!” Eventually Replaced it with a Uniform Blue Diesel.

HO-HUM: For those moments when you should probably care a lot more about something than you actually do. Has in the past followed statements such as “X and I have split up” and “We’ve left James in Brighton again!”

T.J. BIMMY: A long running Bryson joke about the worlds worst country and western singing cowboy. Grew out of the early email correspondence between us whilst bored at work. He has in past written such legendary tunes as “Hodown in My Heart” and the seminal piece “Outlaw Man (From the Streets of Dagenham)”. His name, Timothy James Bimmy, came from a disastrous attempt by JB to name the members of the Famous 5. Timmy, Jimmy, Bimmy….

SPONTANIOUS HODOWN: An impromptu get-together

STUNT : Coming from Stunt Double, refers to when something is fake or not quite right, such as Tom-boys Stunt Tag Heuer with visible Airfix glue.

(THE CUPID) STUNTS: Our all conquering Pub Quiz team with the almost rude name. We are still campaigning hard for the return of the Monday Night Quiz. Became abbreviated to The Stunts or The Stunts on Tour when in a different pub.

STORYTIME ANTHOLOGY: A Series of Ten short Stories penned by Nige and sent around by email. Most were based in a vaguely familiar Historical Village and introduced characters such as Legendary Lawman Gus el Inferno, Yomo the Lad, The slightly singed delivery boy and the iconic Slothmaster Persuivant.

NOT APPLICABLE: Not Applicable Productions is the virtual studios set up by Nige to showcase his films made using the PC Game “The Movies”. On this page have been posted adaptations of much of the Storytime Anthology. Nige is especially proud of the Trilogy of Films starring Legendary Lawman Gus el Inferno. Heres a Link!