All About Friendship with Several References to Anal Activities

31 Jan

Hello, Hello and a thousand times Hello.

Today’s post will tackle the age old topic of friendship. I’m going to go through the ins and outs (whey!), the tos and fros, the ups and downs as well as the good times and the bad. And as per usual you can count on Oi You Blog Head to leave out all those dirty clichés. I guess we all enjoy the feeling of having someone who would do just about anything just because you asked them to, well within reason (by that I mean rimming or as it’s more popularly known analingus. And if you engage in such a disgusting activity I judge you. But for those looking into starting the rocky but ultimately rewarding journey of Anal Activites head to for the ‘gourmet guide to ass-eating’). Now I have had one or two friends in my life (no ass eaters thus far, thank god), I was known as mr popular back in the day and I think of myself as quite the friendship expert. As I talk you through it all there will have some laughs as well lessons along the way.

So the whole friendship game usually starts with a handshake or a kiss on one or two cheeks (i think this is a bit over friendly unless the guy has got just a hint of stubble which I find sexy in a non-homoerotic sort of way) when the two or more participants meet. I cannot enough emphasis on how important this stage of the friendship is. Typically, well most definitely in my case the two or more possible ‘friends’ would exchange hardy opinions on such topics as: the government’s fiscal policy, the ins and outs of brain chemistry (oxytocin, serotonin you know the drill) ,  the proliferation of theories based around higgs boson particle (if these topics seem weird to you then it’s a sign, put the remote down sir and get yourself an education)or the merits of ass-eating (seriously who are these people that rim. i want to know). The success at this stage of the friendship leads on to a level where the participants share personal details about their lives. Sample dialogue:

“my my my that’s a mighty fine over coat you are wearing there Claire”

“Why thank you Jane it is one of my favourites”

The examples are endless really. When this stage is mastered and the now friends sufficiently know each other, where they like to shop, how many people they have ‘been’ with and whether they’re team Edward or team Jake( if you disapprove of the Twilight reference,  you have to know that I don’t care and it is aboslute madness not to be team Edward), the friendship moves on to what i must say is my most favourite stage. Only when someone is truly trusted and therefore is fully considered a friend do you ask for and then act on their advice. the dynamic exchange of advice is really the life blood of a friendship. A friend comes to you and says he really likes a certain lady , i give him advice, he then ends up taking her down town if you catch my drift (true story btw)  and I can go to him and ask him about a tingling sensation in my anus (p.s. it’s not chlamydia. I’ve had that checked, shout out to the NHS. if you have any suggestions about what it could be please leave a comment). but why on earth is advice be so important i hear you say, I’m an empowered, confident, sexy young woman, why would i need advice from anyone? Well let me propose a juxtaposition (if you don’t know what that means, again education. just try it), your a vibrant young lady and tonight you want to head out on the town, knock back a few tequilas (sans rohypnol of course), score yourself some cock maybe but you don’t have the number or directions. I hear you say “that never happens”, well you’d be WRONG miss. check out the video below which concisely sums up (in 49 seconds) the real issues friendships are facing today. [side note: the magic is at 34 seconds where the silence seems to late an eternity.]


“They always waste my time AND my money”

But seriously what does it mean to be a true friend? I don’t really know is the honest answer. All I am sure of is that I try my best for those people who are important to me. I’m not the kind of friend that would make you a pot of your favourite jam or hook you up with some bitches or tell you “yes you are a good dancer” when we both know that the answer is hell no or tell you that your boyfriend is attractive when he’s clearly disgusting. But I am the kind of friend that will listen to your shitty stories (you know who you are) and the kind of friend that will get you drunk when things are going really bad or really great. For me the magic of friendships lie not in what I do or bring or what the other person does or brings, the amazingness (sorry about that word) is the creation in between the both of you. that might sound a bit fruity but give it a second. The creation I think is the closeness between two separate entities. Human beings enjoy closeness that’s why friendships are such a precious thing. Like empathy kicks sympathy’s ass because the problem is shared as opposed to theoretically understood. I don’t think it really matters whether your friendship means you see each other everyday or every year. I don’t think it matters whether your friendship means your share knowledge or bodily fluids (or of course tongues in rear areas). I don’t think it matters whether you sleep with your friend’s mother or your mother’s friend. So I’m hoping that you’ve learned something and stop being an asshole to your friends because I’m definitely never going to bail you out of jail or testify for your character when your ex wife is found naked in the cellar where you live with your new wife or not laugh when your apologizing on talkSport for remarks you made about a female linesman. I’m definitely not going to judge, well except the people i just mentioned.


Post summed up in one sentence: Don’t be a dick you your friends or to female lineswomen because you’ll get your ass fired.

With that piece of advice ringing in your ear i bid you a good day. QuickFo despite all it’s genius isn’t a real app kids but one day it is gonna make someone millions (he said sarcastically!).


Look what the cat dragged in…

15 Jan

Oi! You Blog Head is back.  Put your noose away, take the hosepipe out of your exhaust, leave the whole packet of paracetemol in the cupboard.  It’s been a while hasn’t it?  So much has happened since we last met like this.  I hope you’ll forgive us for not being a part of your life for so long – particularly as we had something so special.  I’ve met lots of new people in the time since the last post, people who were blissfully unaware of Oi You Blog Head’s mere existence… until now.

Here I am, sitting on my bed, watching men watching football on TV.  I’m letting yet another Saturday just slide past uneventfully.  So I’ve decided to do it, give you fans what you want!  I’m still nervous that I won’t be able to reach the enormous peaks Oi! You Blog Head once had – but I’m confident that as we get back into it, the quality of posts will reach what it once was.  It might take a bit of patience though.  I’m going to try and post as often as I can, once a fortnight is my aim- anything more would be a bonus for both me and you.

Ed and I are yet to have a formal meeting regarding his situation and how involved he will be with the new Oi! You Blog Head – I’ll keep you updated with what comes of it.  We all want him back, his unique view on life is something rather special that cannot be kept to himself.  For the time being though you’ve got me.

Come back in an hour or so for the first proper post of the new era!  So go find yourself something to do for now – maybe draw a picture of lambs bounding through the spring air surrounded by beautiful blossom whilst a Welsh farmer gets his end away with their mother in the background (just a suggestion).


Christmas Nostalgia

16 Dec

It’s been a while.  I must apologise (again), but as I always say- I’m a busy man.  I should really be doing some other work right now, but I have neglected our readers for long enough and for that I am truly sorry.

Today I would have opened Advent Calendar door number 16.  Already!  How quick has that gone?  I say would have because; and it pains me a little to say this; I don’t have an advent calendar this year.  Without even seeing you I can feel the shock on your faces.  How could I not have an advent calendar?  Simple really… I forgot to buy one.

I miss being at school for Christmas, particularly primary school.  I remember the build up to Christmas used to feel like an eternity.  There’d be so much going on in the weeks leading up to the last day of school that a lot of kids used to piss themselves on a daily basis because they simply did not have time to go to the toilet- let alone whip their trousers and Y-fronts down to their ankles, stand back as far as possible and aim as high as possible without covering themselves in wee: the boys had a similar problem.  There were Christmas cards to be sent, school plays to be rehearsed, silly hats to be made, class advent calendars to be opened, carols to sing… along with all the other things that used to keep us busy as children like mugging old ladies, kicking kittens and collecting football stickers.

There was also the Christmas shopping to be done.  Now I don’t know how it worked at your school, but mine used to hold an annual ‘Christmas bazaar’.  What happened was the parent’s would make and donate items to the school, the school then sold all these items to the children in a market fashion in the school hall, then the kids take the presents they have bought for their family back to the classroom to wrap them up.  The stalls were arranged by price, the cheapest sold the goods for 10p I believe whilst the most expensive could have been as much as £1.50!  I’m sure you can imagine, through this procedure my family received some truly shit presents.  In the morning each child arrives at school with about a fiver (or as much as mum could afford last minute when she dropped me off at school and realised “shit, it’s bazaar day”) and a list of all their family members they wish to buy for.  My list probably looked something like this:








Aunty Tracy

Aunty Jo

Aunty Alison

(I’m sure some of you are aware that my family is much bigger now, but with this list I am referring to a time about 14 years ago)

With ten people to buy for and a fiver to do it with, I’m sure my family couldn’t wait to unwrap what I had brought them each year!  So when my family members unwrapped something that looked like it had been wrapped by an elephant (no opposable thumbs, I’d like to think they would struggle with the cello-tape as much as I still do) they really did know how to be enthusiastic about some really crap stuff.  For example, one year I brought my grandma a packet of four shit circular black placemats- which were hideously decorated.  God bless her though, she tried so hard to make me feel like I had got her exactly what she had always wanted- she even made up a time when she could use them.  And one day she actually did use one!  And she still reminds me now, like it was the best Christmas present she has ever received and nothing I buy her now could possibly live up to that.  Another year I got my mum a pine cone sprayed gold.  She loved it!  It sat on the mantle-piece for months.  She probably still has it. Why? I will never know, it is rubbish.  But I suppose this shows that it really is the thought that counts.

And the tradition continues.  I now have a 9 year old brother who is at that exact stage in life, and I try my hardest to make it seem like what he has got me- even though I think his teacher helps him wrap the stuff, which is cheating in my eyes- is what I’ve always wanted.  Last Christmas I got two handkerchiefs, brilliant it was.

So I’ll leave you with that.  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this. In a way that’s not gay (accidental poetry), I have enjoyed writing it.

We will put up another post before Christmas, but just in case you don’t see it (probably because you’ll be pissed for a week straight, and will eat so much you can’t even move to check your emails) Both Ed and I will take this opportunity to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Oi! You Blog Head x

Facebook, the ugly child we all love!

2 Dec

Hey Ho Readers,

Now children, Oi! You Blog Head has taught us many many lessons. And guess what, we are not gonna stop giving either (like a great boyfriend, you know what I mean. One that goes down on you every Sunday as well as the traditional Tuesday). Now I know there hasn’t been a post in a while but Adam and I have been out in the world, noted down all the issues that needed solving (not problem’s like global warming and boring shit like that because lets be honest here, the girls that choose to protest against it or whatever, aren’t too easy on the eye. And who wants that, not me. But anyway….). Facebook I’ve decided is much like an ugly child that we as users love. Here is a story explaining why:

In the beginning god created man and so on…( trees, custard, tea bags and all that). And from this Adam and Eve were given the “gift” of children. We’ll fast forward this fact to now (roughly 3 years on) and babies are born all the time. There is a sad fact however that some children are born, well ugly. Okay don’t give me that bull about how “all children are beautiful” and “sooo cute” because when a kid is ugly, the kid is UGLY. However, very cleverly parents are given a sort of blindness that makes them love their child .At the sec you are thinking WHAT?! A blindness?! And ill solve your query with the simple equation below.

Child + Beauty = LOVE    (Lovely)

Adult + Beauty = LOVE    (Lovely)


Child + Ugly = LOVE    

(I’m sure we all know what’s wrong with that equation)

See…. Blindness

So let me go on. So all through their child’s early life the parents give the kid everything whilst, let’s be fair here the kid’s absolutely NOWHERE, not with a mug like that. But still the parents insist on feeding the little scamp. I may be coming across a little bit of a prick but I know that ugly people have their uses like Miners, Halloween mask inspiration, perspective to show that your wife isn’t that bad looking, subject of ugly questions (like “so where do people like you shop?”) and I could go on.

But Facebook or FB if your texting someone is like an ugly child how? Well I’ll give you the example of myself. Say I’m just chilling (and yer I know how cool I sound) in the library with my bitches or whatever and I needed a break from all the boring shit in my life, I’d pop on Facebook, you know for something interesting to do. But Facebook never ever ever is, interesting that is. So why must we insist on visiting it every 15 mins hoping that there will be something on there to change our lives. I’ll tell you why. Oh I’ll tell you all why.

Facebook is OUR ugly child. I bet the parents of these ugly children know full well that their child is ugly. But every time they visit their child’s cot they hope that a miracle will have happened. A life changing, inspirational, amazing thing will have happened. The burden that they have been carrying, ever since the day that their dreaded offspring was forced through the fleshy gates of the mothers downstairs area (or vagina to us scholars), was lifted and that they could be graced with a better looking child (please note that these series of events do not apply to cesarean sections. However, please note that ugliness in child may still occur). But alas no. Oh no sirey. It is never the case and shall never be. Ugly children will always be ugly (unless it was this really ugly girl that asked you out when you were like 14 and you were like “fuck no”. Now that you are in your 20s she is absolutely stunning and out of your league. I mean what’s that about? How is that fair?). Facebook will always be ugly but I guess we’ll just keep on loving it till we give birth to another hopefully more beautiful child. It is also soo soo soo important to stress that if you have 2 ugly children in a row, please for the love of god stop having sex. There is just no excuse for it. I, as many of us, will let one ugly kid go but 2, come on buddy. Who the fuck do you think we are.

Please leave your views, especially if you disagree because this blog is about fun and games. But occasionally Oi! You Blog Head tackles the important issues that not even the government are prepared to tackle.

Much Love

Oi! You Blog Head

I personally would love to see a young Sarah Haddon Kick off her own blog. She is just simply magic to talk to and a beloved friend and fan of our work. This is why I dedicate this, my own sweat and tears to her.


Facebook the Unnecessary

13 Nov

I’m going to start this post with a bit of an apology.  The blogging has not been as regular as we here at Oi! You Blog Head would like it in the last few weeks.  We are both very busy men: Ed is often up to his nuts in guts and I regularly chew that never-ending flavour gum which gets me every time, really how does it work?!  But we are trying our best to keep you entertained in the way only Oi! You Blog Head know how as regularly and as often as we possibly can.

Anywho… Facebook.  We are all aware of it, I’m quite sure you are signed in right now.  It really can be a great tool.  Some of its features really are such a great help to everyday life.  I love the way it tells you when people’s birthdays are coming up.  I love the way you can organise events- from small ones such as an organised Bukake to massive ones like Christmas (yes, I’m not ashamed to admit it that last year on Facebook I was apparently ‘attending Christmas’).  It is great for keeping in touch with people.  Our regular readers will by now have a good idea of what love is (See What is Love? Parts 1 & 2, if you’ve not read these already you should be well prepared for a life of loneliness), Facebook is a tool one can use to help that love blossom- you can really get to know someone.

As the title of this post suggests however, I am not here to sing its praises.  As handy and useful as some of Facebook’s features can be- they are also very annoying.  For example, it is a great way to keep in touch with people.  This also means it is a great way for people you don’t like to keep in touch with you.  I have a considerable number of Facebook ‘friends,’ only a small percentage of whom are people I actually talk to.  If I’m honest I don’t care if a girl I met at a swingers party in June 2008 hasn’t yet done the washing up, or if her cat shat in the fridge.  I also don’t care if a lad I never spoke to at school but for some reason is a Facebook ‘friend’ of mine became a fan of Leprechauns at the ends of rainbows.  How is any of this information helping me? It isn’t.

While I’m on this little subject, there really are some ridiculous ‘become a fan of…’ groups out there now.  Admittedly I am again a little bit guilty of getting over-excited and joining some of these groups at one point.   But then I grew up.  “Gary Madeupname became a fan of sex.” Superb.  Was he not a fan before joining this group? What exactly was one expecting to gain by joining a group of this sort? I’m sure a potential life partner would be browsing his profile and upon making the great discovery that our made up man is a sex fan they would go on to proclaim their love!  Before seeing that they may have been worried that one prefers less intimate activities such as ironing or egg-painting.  Potential employers can apparently check your Facebook during the interview process to get a better picture of you.  I can imagine the recruitment officer stumbling across the beautiful statement that is ‘is a fan of sex’ and getting on the phone straight away to offer a job!  “You are a fan of sex?! Why didn’t you write that in your CV, by Jove I think we can slot you straight in to our shagging department downstairs.”

There is sooo much else I could go on about.  But it is late, and I’m a bit tired.  Apologies if this post seems a little incomplete, but I may come back to this subject matter in the future.  Stalking, shit Facebook chat, terrible photos. There are so many stones I have left unturned.

For the moment however I am preferring Twitter to Facebook.  I am in-fact quite the active user. Follow me at and Ed at  I encourage you to sign up if you haven’t already, it’s strangely addictive.

That’s all from me today folks.  Until next time.


**By the way… all the little example scenarios I just wrote about aren’t actually real.  Don’t be a dick.

What is love? (Part 2)

6 Nov

We left the story (for those of you who are new to Oi! You Blog Head)at the point of a young man on the cusp of manhood, I had the hand of my then partner and she had just said the three dreaded, the three most consequential but beautiful words that anyone hopes are said in a relationship. She said and I quote “I love you”. Reading the comments I got to the last post it is clear that everyone seems to be a big fan of Love.

I, for one am a huge fan of love. You get to do all those sweet (gay), emotional (gay), tender (gay) things that you can’t do with anyone else. But on a serious note it is the most fun in the world getting to know someone that wants to get to know you just as much. But, me I am a very judgment person and it’s quite difficult when you feel like everything is a chore. Seeing her…. chore, remembering her birthday ….chore, pretending you like her mother (who, on that note didn’t like me all that much either. Like this one time she made chili con carne and she then offered to me. I was like (in my head of course) “I don’t really like chili con carne” but I took it like a man. I mean the amount of the stuff I had to eat was unbearable but was she happy noooooooooooo. “would you like seconds “ I’d hear her cry. And I can tell you that with every fucking forkful of the food stuff only the devil himself could enjoy, I died a little inside) chore. Now everyone is thinking but how was it in between the sheets. Well I’ll tell you.

I, for want of a better phrase, am quite the dab hand (very appropriate) in the bedroom. No I’m not saying that I have had more girls than you’ve had hot dinners (I mean who says that in the world . A prick that’s who: see our hilarious post on Idiots for further details (A MUST READ)). I think it is, if anything, just polite to try and give your partner a “orgasm” because you don’t want her marking you down on the post intercourse questionnaire or PIQ for those who have taken part (please note that you may not all have one, but seriously there is nothing better than reading a comment that says and again I quote “Very good effort, tenacious attitude to piloting me to the heights of sexual fulfillment“. And you can always be sure that I have a can do attitude to servicing the ladies. See “doing” (as the kids say nowadays) a girls is a lot like customer service, and I have been working in customer service for about 6 years now. Now if this has taught me anything, it’s taught me that you must be proactive. When a prospective customer comes into the shop (or girl into your bed) you must make sure they are ok. “Good morning sir, can I help you today” or with the ladies “hey you, cheeky” and nudge with the elbow. JOB DONE. But for more Edesque sexual tips there will be more in future posts.

But back to the love. As we sat down and looked into each other’s eyes I realized something very real was brewing inside of me. Could I see myself spend the rest of my playa days with this one girl. Well the answer was no. I don’t know what love is but I don’t love her. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with her, I don’t want to be in the delivering room where she is giving birth to our hermaphrodite baby and having to decide whether we are going to raise her as a boy or a girl and I definitely don’t want to be there were SHE serves ME the divorce papers. Can you believe the cheek of it, I didn’t even love her. But that’s beside the point. Looking back made me realize that maybe I did love her, not in a GAY way. I had the most fun in the world with her. Girls at the best of times are alright and if you can have fun (and fingers) with the few of them that are not a NIGHTMARE that for me is love.

Love about being totally unselfish. I believe a little selfishness destroys any chance for love.

So what do you guys think love is. Is it as simple as I make out (probably not) but hey who cares. Hope you’ve had fun sharing my experiences and we are all about truth at Oi! You Blog Head. Leave a comment and we’ll be your biggest fans.

Loves You!

Oi! You Blog Head


30 Oct

Never judge a book by its cover, that’s the saying isn’t it? This is a metaphor which compares people to books. For those amongst you that are a bit thick (regular readers I know none of you fall into this category, research suggests that you are all intellectual heroes) it is saying you shouldn’t make a judgement on a book before you’ve read it- just because it has a shit cover doesn’t mean it’s a shit book. In relation to humans, just because someone seems like a twat on the outside, don’t judge them until you know what they are really like deep down.

That is generally the approach we like to take here at Oi! You Blog Head. No matter how you appear- you could be a regular wearer of socks and sandals together, maybe you’re quite partial to a mustard coloured jumper on a night out, or even if you just come across as a massive prick- we like to give you a chance… get past the cover and look inside the book, or at least turn it over and read the blurb at the back for a rough idea. In this post however, I will be telling a story of a time when I wasn’t willing to look past the cover. I judged a book by its very smarmy, cocky cover… and my judgement was simple. Twat.

T’was the summer of 2009. The company I worked for at the time had sent me from London to Sheffield to do what turned out to be a very important job (what that job involved exactly may well pop up in a future post, it was quite an adventure). It was on my journey back to London from Sheffield where I encountered this individual.

I had taken my seat, facing forward on the left-hand-side of a somewhat empty 20:00ish service from Sheffield to London St. Pancras. Across the aisle from me sat a man: the man this post is all about. I don’t know his name; I couldn’t even tell you what he looked like or what he was wearing. That’s irrelevant anyway. Sort of. I don’t think I even noticed him sitting there until the incident occurred.

The train departed. I was glad to be on my way home after a long day up north. From behind me I heard a seductive woman’s voice, “Tickets please.” The ticket inspector was a woman, a quite attractive woman in fact. This made a very pleasant change from the usual grumpy, unshaven, middle-aged, depressed male ticket inspectors that I am used to seeing who are only out to rob you of any money and dignity you have left on a packed train because you accidentally purchased the ‘Super Duper Off Peak Go Faster Whizz Bang Young Person Saver Return’ Ticket when on this train you can only use ‘Super Duper Off Peak Go Faster Bang Whizz Young Person Saver Single’ Tickets, or some bollocks like that.

Back to the point… the easy on the eye ticket inspector duly came over and ‘inspected my ticket’- cheeky!- then moved on. She inspected this fella’s ticket, all was well. At this point I must add that the train was going noticeably slowly. This was the moment the man spoke up, this was the moment I judged a book by its cover.

As the lovely-looking ticket inspector handed the man back his ticket these are the words that fell from his lips.

“Excuse me, is there any reason that the train is going slowly?”

Now I’m sure some of you are sitting there thinking to yourselves, “Is that it? I’ve sat here and wasted at least three minutes of my life reading the last 600 words and that was all he said. Adam you’re being ridiculous. He’s not a Twat, merely an inquisitive individual.”

And that is where you are wrong. The use of the words ‘is there any reason’ are his major downfall. Of course there was a fucking reason the train was going slow!  I don’t know what it was, but I know that the driver wouldn’t be going slow just because he’s a bit bored of going fast, or he didn’t want to push the speed lever up too far because he was using it as a sundial and going faster would have changed the angle of the dial and therefore the time of day. If I was the foxy ticket lady I would have turned to him and said, “No, there is no reason. The driver is going slowly purely to fuck you off.” It turns out that the well-above-average-looking ticket inspector didn’t know if there was a reason that the train wasn’t travelling at full speed. And for the 10 minutes or so that the train travelled below its top speed he didn’t stop huffing and moaning.

What exactly was he going to do with the information anyway? Him knowing why the train was going slow wouldn’t have made it go any faster. Chances are he wasn’t going to get on the phone to Rolex and get them to deliver a working watch to the next station so the driver can stop using the go-faster lever as a sundial… or solve any other possible issue for that matter.

I apologise for this post being a bit of a rant. But it’s late and I saw this man’s ludicrous question and over-exaggerated huffing and groaning at a slow moving train to be a metaphorical book cover I wouldn’t look twice at.

I’d like to leave you with this final thought.

Don’t judge a book by its cover… but if the cover really is shit, don’t bother reading it, chances are it’s a shit book.


Enjoy your weekend!

What is love?

27 Oct

Here at Oi! You Blog Head we don’t shy away from the big questions. Whether it’s tackling the questions of Jesus and hangovers, Beef drinks or the very question of love. But that’s be fair we don’t have all the answers (Yer we do!). I’m sure we are all familiar with the phrases “I love you”, ” I love the time we spend together”, “I love your dress”, “I’d love it if you’d just leave me well alone forever” or “I love that thing you do to my anus”. Whether you’re a fan of all that or not, it is part of all our lives. On that note here’s a story. Caution; don’t read on if you don’t love romantic, soppy, delicate stories.

Back in the days where I was in year ten (I had the ladies coming out of my ears back then too), I was going out with this young girl. Not like pervy young we were the same age, but I think its better not to be on the sexual naughty people’s list. Anyways we had been going out for a while and we did all the normal things that young couples do heading down to the park, watching films, holding hands, only kissing her on the cheek and not to mention fingering her once or twice. So fast forward to a cross roads in our relationship and this has happened to all of us. It was the time when I looked her in the eye and I knew exactly how I felt about her, but it was in a way that I just couldn’t put into words (awww). We were at a friend’s house party and we had managed to capture a room for ourselves (all the cool people will know how hard it is to do so at a packed house party). And in that room we, as young people at the time, did a bit of fooling around. I know what you’re thinking….. is this some sort of tender reminiscent recollection of the first time you made love. Sadly not, we don’t know each other well enough.

So we were both (I assume) were having a good time, when from nowhere she turns around (nudge, nudge) and she looks me in the eye and said the 3 dreaded words. The words that any teenage boy hates to hear. The terrifying words “time of month”. I joke. She said “I love you”. In the 2 seconds I had to think about it, millions of things rushed though my head, “should I say it back?”, “should I go in for the kill?”, “is she really on” and “what does this mean for our relationship?”. I in the end made a decision.

So this is where you come in. what should I have done or for those of you who know me what did you think I did. I might tell you what happened in my next post or maybe I’ll just leave it in the past. I can safely say though that lesson were learned. Share the stories of your life where your girlfriend said “I love you” or any “I love you” stories. It’s needless to say that Me and Adam are big fans of love. We will love you soo much more when you leave a comment.


Don’t do drugs. Unless they were turned from sand to cocaine by Jesus. You can argue with Jesus so don’t even fucking try to.

Peace and Love

Oi! You Blog Head

Rotten Hangovers: I Blame Jesus

23 Oct

Since Ed was the first to use an expletive (‘fuck’, in case you haven’t read it) here at Oi! You Blog Head, I thought I’d be the first to introduce a bit of controversy. Of course what Ed was saying about the Beefy delight that is Bovril could be seen as controversial, but I think this will push it a little further and maybe spark a bit of a debate. Hopefully quite a large debate, then we’d all be ‘mass-debating together!’ (One for you Ed!)

The subject of this post is alcohol. Sweet, delightful alcohol. Don’t get me wrong, I looooove a bit of the sauce, one too many sherberts is how I so often roll.

But why? I am writing this post as I have now recovered from the all day hangover which significantly affected me yesterday. Alcohol makes people do some crazy things. For example…

(for the record not all of the following have involved myself or Ed, maybe you could guess which ones have. What a fun game.)

• Fall over in public.

• Get a little bit lairy to poor hot dog shop owners.

• Get the 5:15 (am) train from Bournemouth to Brighton, only to be back in Bournemouth by 14:00.

• Think you are better than everyone else and question why they don’t ‘bow down to you.’

• Get in trouble with the police for acquiring a nice new bird table and a For Sale sign.

• Do karaoke.

• Throw your kebab at someone.

• Get a kebab in the first place.

• Have a slash up a war memorial.

• Not remember any of the above.

Those are to name just a few ridiculous things that come to mind.

Alcohol is a drug, that’s a fact. It takes lives. It ruins lives. Why then is it perfectly legal almost all over the World? Why should alcohol be legal but other drugs not?

As the title of this post suggests, I blame Jesus. I’m sure most of you are aware that Jesus once turned water into wine. Come off it, I bet they all got absolutely ruined that night. They were getting kebabs, throwing them at people, starting fights, having unprotected sex with people they’ve never even met, stealing sheep, kicking down road works barriers and falling asleep in bushes. But the good old bible forgot to tell us that bit. The bible never tells us of the affects of alcohol (don’t hold me to that, I haven’t actually read it all- I am essentially guessing). Did Jesus ever get hangovers? I hope so, all these free nights out- he has to pay the price somehow.

Say Jesus hadn’t turned water into wine. What if Jesus had turned sand into Cocaine? Would that make Coke acceptable? Pebbles into Ecstasy pills… I’m sure you understand my point.

I’m not trying to change anyone’s opinion of alcohol or anything here, and I’m not judging anyone’s religion. In fact some of this crap I’ve said could be completely wrong, if it is then I’d love for you to point it out and we could have a good old Barney about it! And also for the record I am not glamorising other drugs at all, I am merely suggesting that if they were what Jesus was in to then maybe they’d be more accepted in today’s society.

Excuse my tardiness

20 Oct

Some bloggers say (I have been in the blogging game for a while now) that you should always give the fans what they want when they want. But I say that it is better to have a really good post about things I care about as opposed to one that I’m just knocking them out. Believe you me we at Oi! You Blog Head know that we have some exciting times ahead of us.

Let’s put down our swords and blog.