I’ll have some pickled onions, and a little bit of cheese, please. Thank you.

Max Splodge. There I’ve said it. Now admit it, everyone has had a dream about Max Splodge.

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This is Max Splodge.

Max Splodge. Erstwhile lead singer of Splodgenessabounds who had the hit single ‘Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps please’. I owned it.

Here are Splodgenessabounds on the front cover of Smash Hits complete with Two Pints Pearson (their dog band member). I had this edition of Smash Hits too.

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So tell me, why do we all dream of Max Splodge?

The night before last he was the main character in a vivid dream. I was at some sort of university reunion (they always go wrong in my dream and I miss the food, or have the wrong suit, or am all alone) and as I stood there (alone) I saw him…….

It was definitely him even though – until just now – I did not know what he looked like. In my dream he was like a cross between the lead singer of the Flying Picketts and Shakin’ Stevens.

I had to speak to Max Splodge. Indeed I ran to speak to Max Splodge. He was too quick and I lost him in the reunion crowd.

There! He had reappeared so I cornered him. He seemed nonchalantly pleased that I knew him and wanted to speak to him. Max Splodge that is. I impressed him (or he thought I was a Splodge sycophant) by saying I liked the Splodgenessabounds track ‘Michael Booth’s Talking Bum’. By the way a) I do like it and 2) it does exist.

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That is very accurate dreaming if I may say so myself.

However I was most excited to tell him that I had read his autobiography which Mrs Bob had bought me. Now I have had to since check this but it does not exist.

Bloody annoying that. My dream promoted the idea so well that I am desperate to now read it.

The dream picked up again in his home / office, along with another ex-Spodgenessabounds band member (non-descript dream figure) and they told me who had left the band and that they did not keep in touch with / like them. I left Max (Splodge) without saying goodbye. Perhaps I was just a little down as my conscious being whispered, ‘Bob…..Bob……Max Splodge has not written an autobiography….leave now before you waste your night’s dreaming…….’.

Which does link neatly with Manchester United as one of the best autobiographies I have read, despite not liking him as a player, is Gary Neville’s.

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It is not a Man U thing – I don’t mind them (unlike Stoke and Burnley) – it’s just he was a tosspot on the pitch. Like Jamie Oliver in cooking programmes but only half as bad, or a third of a Garth Crooks when doing football stuff on TV.

I went to a local pub the other night to watch Man U play Spurs in the FA Cup Semi-Final with my friend who I shall call Boniface Catweasle for the purposes of anonymity. He is a Man U fan.

The pub we planned to meet in was no good as they chose to have an early evening disco and no tv on. No one was there either. Think the manager is West Ham so fair enough.

So down to the 3 Colts a real Spurs pub. Not much atmosphere as no one seemed to be bothered too much. Half of Essex’s footballers wives and friends appeared to be there too. I am not being sexist but there was not a male equivalent in sight. Except perhaps for me and / or Boniface Catweasle.

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Now Boniface C-wease (as I may call him if that was his name) astutely pointed out at the start of the match that Alexis Sanchez is “a pile of old dog doo and is not fit to wear the shirt”. Roll on 90 minutes – a goal and a man of the match trophy. Bloody Man U fans.

It did give me the opportunity to gently mock my Spurs-supporting friends though. Again, I quite like Spurs. Exciting team. The fans whinge more than Arsenal and West Ham put together though. West Ham fans by the way have more unrealistic whinges so it is more amusing than annoying.

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We had a lovely curry after our footie and Peroni lager. Mrs Bob did not say that I stank of curry until the early hours on Sunday when she prodded me in bed. Personally I think it is inappropriate that she suggests that a man of my heritage “smells of curry”. Back to the 70s ethnic tension some days in our house……..

Not the 1970s, I mean the 1070s you fools.

Mrs Bob and I perpetually struggle to accept the Norman Conquest. Mrs Bob deliberately insults our new neighbours by saying ‘watch it, you’ll have my eye out with that’ whenever they get the clothes pole out to put the washing line up. Her King Harold flag draped out of the window is creating a stir locally too. I guess we will move on one day, but over 900 years later and it is still touch to take….

Norman Conquest

Still St George’s Day was one to celebrate. We never do but we should. Next year.

With no football to watch on my Sky Sports / BT Sport-free TV, I have had to watch a few obscure films.

Now I enjoyed ‘The Brothers Grimsby’ with Sacha Baron Cohen, Mark Strong and Rebel Wilson. Just so childishly crude but laugh out loud funny. Grimsby Town feature too as well as an unlikely England performance in a World Cup. Elephant dongs.

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The other one I watched – no idea why – was ‘Doom’ with The Rock and Karl Urban. I have no idea who Karl Urban is but the way his name looks and sounds means he is probably a cool dude everyone else knows.

Doom was just ridiculous but again I enjoyed it. I think since I have realised there is no Max Splodge autobiography, my entertainment threshold has lowered so I can find pleasure and solace somewhere, anywhere………..oh imaginary Max….(Splodge)……

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I have not been in a film but I was once on the Timmy Mallet evening radio show on Piccadilly Radio reading, in a very serious and posh voice, my essay on the Thompson Twins live on air.

I was once on TV too on one of those BBC2 cool music problems when I was interviewed after a gig at The Marquee. Pop Will Eat Itself? Manics Street Preachers? All I had to say was how the gig was great as the bouncers let you stage dive whenever you wanted to. Not sure anyone would wish to / be capable of catching me now. I used to stage dive loads. No wonder I am such a crock at 52.

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I nearly considered Rolling Stones tickets today – London Stadium in May – £300 for a bog standard pair nowhere near the stage. Oh come on. That brings me back to a previous blog with Bad Manners at £30 a ticket at ULU now seeming like a bargain. By the way, their support act? Only Max Splodge!!

 

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