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!

Big Nige's London Adventure & Other Short Stories

So it’s been a bit quiet on here for the last seven days what with me being away and the others all having more interesting things to do, such as eating sausage rolls or taunting birds by sticking birdseed on the inside of windows*.

I’ll start with why I was away for a few days. Contrary to the popular rumours circulating in several Sussex pubs, I had not run off to join the British Equestrian team as Zara Phillips Masseuse.

The truth of the matter was that I had been sent to London. Firstly by my company to study in depth how to do this website thing, and secondly by the parish council who had thought my unkempt facial follicles might count against us if spotted by the best kept village judges.

And so I boarded a train and headed for our nations capital, Lambeth to be exact. In a hotel that boasted majestic views of Lambeth Palace and the Houses of Parliament I was spoiled with a view of – well it was a car park, 1960’s design, mostly concrete.

Now for anybody who has ever found themselves alone in a restaurant in a busy Hotel you will understand that feeling of being a bit of a tit. Firstly a book or a magazine is essential so you can bury your head in the pages and not see your fellow diners pointing and laughing. Secondly the staff are as desperate as possible to get you fed, watered and out the door as quickly as possible as the restaurant is busy and this lone diner is taking up the table that could be used by that family of four looking ever more impatient at the door.

And so most nights I decided that room service was a better way to go. The directions I was given to the venue of the course were also slightly worrying. Go down a small alley to a black door, know 3 times, ask for Steve then climb the stairs to the room above the bookies.

Thankfully it wasn’t being run by the mafia and I ploughed into a 3-day intensive course learning all about HTML code and various other things with over complicated names.

On Tuesday evening after my Room Service meal I headed across the river on the tube to find myself some entertainment. It hit me faster than I had anticipated as I left the stairs of the Underground Station to find myself in the middle of a fully blown Bollywood Dance number. There were 30 people all fully choreographed and in traditional Indian dress dancing around the base of Nelson’s Column . You simply don’t expect mass choreography on the streets of a major European capital, well unless Charlton Althetic win at home

And so I proceeded for 2 more days to get myself clever. The effects of this I hope will begin to show soon as I start to amend some of the things on this site that bug me. And then I am planning to make JB my first victim - I mean customer - when I tweak his SnappyRacers site into a lean mean web type thing. (I would have carried on the rhyming but would probably have had to pay George Foreman several million dollars)

I was going to go on further and discuss my weekend at the Goodwood Revival Meeting, Harlequins first game of the season, the Death of the Crocodile Hunter, and one of our number finding out that they ‘d been listed on a matchmaking website.

But I probably should be working for a living, so it’ll have to wait until next time.

* For legal reasons I have to say that No member of the Bryson team has ever been deliberately cruel to animals. Chi-Chi was once ejected from a popular theme park for kicking a man in a Mouse suit but maintains that it was entirely justified.