Photo Club

all b&w snaps on this 'ere site are printed at Photo Club, hosted by the good Lord Mayor of Mansfield...ta Mayor

Tighten the Rust Belt

The following day, I peddled back towards London for a rendezvou with a train back to big-nottz, passing through such festive places as Gillingham, Chatham & Gravesend, which are places exactly like they sound.

































me: how did Charlton do t'day?
him: fuckin' lost, didn't they kidda!

Shouting at Trucks, Swearing at Sheep

A few weeks ago, I happened to be down the Garden of England (Kent) and caught wind of an art show occurring across the South East, in the seaside town of Margate, involving my good friend S Mark Gubb and a couple of wrong'uns...Hopping on me bike and braving the tail-end of the nuclear winter that the UK has been enduring, I peddled over to have a good glegg...


appeasement to the gods of punctures & rain


more offerings along the wayside from fellow pilgrims.






whilst taking these snaps, a white van pulled up and two jolly gypsy fellas inside shouted "Alright mate, want some work?"
I said that I did, but was currently on my way to Margate, which was met with all round bemusement.
"What, on that?" the more forward of the two said, gesturing towards my pushbike, "Yep" I replied.
"Bollocks mate! Cheerio" they called, and sped off, splashing more water onto the weird, hanging icicle stalagmites.








Paul the skinhead, Margate.


Dreamland






apparently, Margate has the highest ratio of boarded-up shops to functioning ones in the UK.
(My main ode Tommy Robinson has some fine snaps of Margate here)


ta-da! Mark & show...good work gents

Where where you when Bambi was killed?

ladies & gentlemen, Chris Price!

Haf (frame) Eddie Murphy...HAF! (frame)

Happy Going Nowhere

Last Wednesday evening I was sitting at the table. It was a typical Wednesday evening in early March in the household; the Archers played quietly and largely ignored on the radio, I sat half-reading the days newspaper, mum flitted in and out, pottering about with various jobs.
“So ma, I’ve been thinking I may start doing some sort of blog…” I said
“Why the devil would you want to do a thing like that?” mother replied.
“Well, I’ve been looking at the blogs some of my friends are making (http://www.beastmangoat.blogspot.com, http://www.icantseestraight.blogspot.com) and I got inspired to try one out for size, for myself, like...”
“If your friends set themselves on fire, would you follow suit?” Ma countered.
I thought about that for a moment, and answered, quite honestly, “Well, if it were Jerry or Andy, they’d probably have a good reason for setting themselves on fire, so yeah, more than likely…”
“Look son, you were born a Luddite, and you’ll die a Luddite, and you'd do well to remember that, alright? Besides, I like your friends and all, but know this; they’re going straight to Hell...”

(Disclaimer: The above story is completely fictitious, my mam doesn’t know how to turn the telly on, let alone what a blog is, nor does she think myself and my friends are bound for the fiery furnace, or, if she does, she isn't letting on. I just wanted something to start this off and that is all I came up with. So it goes.)