Michael J Phillips

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Michael has published his first E-Book ‘Postcards From Within’ . The book contains four short stories

and can now be found at:

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Michael-J-Phillips/110487725691784

It is free for download.

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You can check out any time you like….but you can never leave..

November 1, 2011

It’s been a while again. I am afraid I’ll never be what you would call a prolific blogger. But then it’s been a ‘bit of a time’ lately as they say. Lots going on and at this very moment I am in a hotel called the Britannia. It has to be said if hotels were ever to be construed as Empires (and with a little imagination I think they can) this particular Britannia would never have ruled the waves. I think I should point out that I only stay here because it’s cheap and clean (in the main!). Only problem is I keep expecting Basil Fawlty to appear at Reception, telling me that Manuel will show me to my room, or telling me that his Wife Sybil has a laugh like someone machine gunning a seal! The rooms all come with caramelised biscuits, small cartons of UHT milk (which we all know is shite), a bathroom complete with the obligatory stray pubic hair (from its previous occupant I might add!) and a TV the size of a small hatchback. I have heard sounds at night…I think it best I don’t describe the sounds; suffice to say they could be used to overdub a 70’s ‘Jazz’ movie. . I should be grateful that you can’t rent the rooms by the hour. It doesn’t stop there. The restaurant Staff gladly stroke your face with one hand whilst they filch your wallet with the other. They tell you it’s going to cost you £9.95 for a two-course meal . And after they have taken your money?? You are shown to the self-service buffet and told to fill your boots…on stale salad and ropey looking ham. The Staff on Reception are very helpful mind. The other evening I asked to book back into the hotel for the following week (I know I know, they must have me under some sort of spell!). I was told I’d be better off going on-line and doing it as it would be cheaper. I thought them rude and unhelpful until I checked. Turns out they were right, it was a tenner cheaper a night! It ain’t such a bad place after all…….

The Shandy Bar Kid

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A new Short Story – The Girl With The Upside Down Heart published on STORIES SPACE

Find it on:

A short story entitled ‘Ride Across The River’ has been awarded the Pink Ribbon Award by the Writers Online Forum STORIES SPACE. The story can can be found at:

http://www.storiesspace.com/stories/drama/ride-across-the-river.aspx

Michael has published his first E-Book ‘Postcards From Within’ . The book contains four short stories

and can now be found at:

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Michael-J-Phillips/110487725691784

It is free for download.

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Here it comes!!!!!!!

August 3, 2011

Oh yes…and I cannot wait! The Footy Season is back!!!! Now, I have not blogged for a while and I can only put this down to the fact that I have been suffering through the lack of football. Lovesick even. Sure, I could have substituted it for Cricket, Wimbledon, Golf, Formula 1 even. I had a think about it. Cricket? Oh no! Far too slow a game and only watchable with a vat of cider on hand. Wimbledon? Never! A little rich boy’s game. Still it’s nice they let the ‘ordinary people’ sit on a hill to watch it. Golf? She can be a tempting side attraction, but no, not for me. As for Formula 1, well I think we all need to be honest and say we only watch it in the hope of a crash or pile-up. No, nothing can replace my first and only love, Football. But I know the beautiful game is going to break my heart, as it always does. All real football fans know that once they pick their team that’s it for life. And once they have done that they have forfeited themselves to a life long love affair mostly fraught with tears and heartache. Glory Hunters among us will never recognise this, for Glory Hunters know nothing of love for their chosen Paramour. No, Glory Hunters have nothing more than a one night stand with their Teams. Real football fans know that their football team is like the strongest drug. It’s an addiction that’s for sure. I know the implications of loving my Team, I know of the frustrations of the past and expect more in the future. I know the joys too (however few they may be!). I have been a slave to my football Mistress since the first time I saw her. It was 1975. My Mistress blew me a kiss as I stood on the Bob Bank at Ninian Park. She managed a 2-2 draw with Bristol Rovers. I was smitten. However, only weeks later she committed her first indiscretion by being relegated. I should have broken it off there and then. I should have said thanks but no thanks you harlot! But I didn’t. Many years later she still taunts me and teases me, leads me to the brink of ecstasy and then spits in my face and laughs. Yet still I return for more. She will seduce me every pre-season as she sexily parades her new Football strip, and I try and recall her infidelities of the past 12 months. I wonder if I can trust her this time? And then I forgive her…why?…because I will always love her..oh yes…Football is coming home again….for now.

The Shandy Bar Kid

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I’m a man..that’s M….A….N!

June 22, 2011

It was a bit fiddly, but I did it with the help of a friend. Yes, I put some shelves up. These weren’t any old shelves mind. And that’s why Terry had to give me a hand. You see, my lovely Wife Karen bought the shelves without me being present. She didn’t see the complexities involved in fitting the damn things! There were wires and brackets etc etc. Still, upon completion of the job I felt something inside…..a strange stirring emotion…yes….I felt like a ‘bloke’. I couldn’t wait to meet other guys and say that I’d been putting some shelves up. I knew I would get that nod of approval because they knew how it felt when you stood back and admired your handy-work. Which led me onto thinking what else makes us ‘fellas’ feel manly. And so I made a list.

1 - Making a list of jobs to do – Now I know most guys would rather sever their own head off with a rusty hacksaw blade than make a list of things to do. But there are benefits. Firstly, you need to do this in front of your Wife/Partner. This is what we ‘guy’s’ call ‘winning brownie points’. It looks like we care, even though we’d rather be playing the XBOX, watching the game, or drinking in a local lap dancing bar. Completion of the list is of course a far far away goal that will probably never be reached.

2 –Poker Nights with the ‘guys’ – Firstly, I have to admit I know nothing about Poker and have never played it. But I have some good friends who have Poker nights at their respective homes. And so I always join in their conversations about it in the pub because it makes me feel like a ‘guy’. I love hearing how they ‘raised the ante’ and ‘folded’ whilst drinking buckets full of JD. There’s a real ‘bloke-ish-ness’ about it. I draw the line at talk of ‘Stud Poker’ mind. That conjures up some disturbing images if you ask me.

3 – Putting the rubbish out – A pretty obvious one really. But surely no man can dismiss the feeling when they put that rubbish in the bin. It has to be remembered that there are complexities in putting out the rubbish in these modern times. Faced with the dilemma of making sure we use the right bin for the right waste, a once simple task has now given us a Krypton Factor type challenge. Therefore, successful completion of the task gives us a manly high.

4 – Gambling - This one can manifest itself in many ways. From a simple each way bet on the Grand National to playing Pool for money in a pub. I know someone who actually stood at a level crossing once with a mate. They decided to bet on which way the train would come from. That’s an indictment on how much us guys love a punt; because it makes us feel like a man. There is a cheeky blokey-ness about it. And we think that the women love it, that they can’t resist our insistence on putting our shirt on some nag at Newmarket. They can’t resist it….can they?

5 – Answering the mobile in a witty way in front of people – Most men will be familiar with this one. You know the scenario. You’re at a football match or in a pub (which us ‘guys’ affectionately call the Office) and your phone rings. You can see it’s your mate Bazza or Gazza or Tel. You pick the phone up in front of everyone and greet them with some witty acerbic phrase. Its manliness personified. And you don’t look or sound a prat at all…honest.

6 – Greeting other guys as ‘fella’ – A personal sin of mine. I can’t help it. I think it’s an overspill from my days of reading FHM and Loaded (an avenue of blokey-ness I retired from long ago). But yes, I still do it. There are of course times when its use is not appropriate. Examples: When being pulled over for speeding by a policeman, at a job interview and possibly when meeting the vicar at a wedding.

7 – Changing a flat tyre – probably one of the prime tasks that make us feel like a proper man. It’s important to remember to utter as many profanities as possible upon discovering the flat tyre. The task takes on new levels of manliness if a woman is present, whereupon a typical bloke will substitute the swearing with a swagger that suggests the problem is really no problem at all and will take moments to fix. Not always possible if the offending tyre had been previously put on by a mechanic with one of those hydraulic type wheel brace thingies.

8 – Going to a football match – This one has it all. The sharing of witty comments about the referee with other guys, loud berating of the linesman, singing songs and discussing whether that second goal was offside or not. The manliness of attending a football match can never be underestimated. And of course there is the post-match inquest. This involves going to the pub (see Number 9) with other guys to further debate that second goal, determine who was at fault for the equaliser, and display outrage at the cost of the beer in the stadium.

9 – Buying a round – This is an imperative task if any man wants to be seen as ‘one of the lads’. We may not always like it, but it has to be done to be accepted by our peers and contemporaries. There is also the added bonus of the way we ask a ‘guy’ if he wants a drink. The most obvious example is simply nodding at a guy with a quizzical expression on your face, whilst raising an imaginary glass to your lips. This is translated as ‘you want a beer?’ The same gesture can be used when it’s someone else’s round of course. Only this time the expression changes from quizzical to a stern frown. It’s a language of its own in all honesty.

10 – Opening a jar – No better feeling to be had really. This is obviously best done in the presence of females and males who have all failed to open the jar. Any man will take on a Bear Grylls type stature upon successfully opening such a stubborn item. It is important to remember not to grunt as you take hold of the offending article. Any type of grunting or puffing will immediately lose you ‘man’ points in the eyes of your audience.

It’s important to remember that this is purely my opinion, and that other ‘guys’ out there may have a different view. It has to be said there are many other things that make us feel ‘manly’. However here’s one thing that makes you feel ‘un-manly’. It’s when your Wife tells you that those shelves you put up are in fact not level…..doh!!

Laters

The Shandy Bar kid

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Goodnight Big Man

June 20, 2011

Music lost a legend at the weekend with the sad passing of Saxophonist Clarence Clemons on saturday. Best known for his work with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band, the Big Man was the stuff made of legend. I have been lucky enough to see Springsteen a few times now. and I recall with much fondness the night I saw him at Earls Court in 1999. Each E Streeter appeared on stage except Clarence. Springsteen then came on, the audience were going nuts, he waved and then stood aside and welcomed the last person on stage. It was the Big Man in a huge purple suit. He took centre stage, and I have to say the whole audience went ballistic. Such was the love for the guy, from both the band, Springsteen, and the crowd. The spectacle sent shivers up my spine, and I recall a lump coming to my throat. Clemons was an integral part of the (as the Boss descibes it) best little house band in the world. He will be sadly missed by everyone who ever came across him and his music.

The below link sums it all up – best watched in its entirety

Night Big Man

The Shandy Bar Kid

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Wagons Roll……..

June 3, 2011

The time had come to say goodbye. As I saddled up my trusty steed Stagger, I contemplated the journey ahead. I couldn’t help but think I was going to miss this old town…OK OK!…ENOUGH!! I was clearly lying to myself. In all fairness I have tried to find something good to say about this place but have failed miserably. One would think that I might have discovered something of interest during my 8 week sentence here. But no, the place is bereft of anything interesting at all. However I was determined not to give up. Therefore, as a final gesture, I decided to ‘Google’ Chorley and see if I could unearth some amazing facts about the town referred to as the ‘undiscovered gem of the North West’. Apart from the fact that Chorley is part of the Cotton Mill heritage of Lancashire, I found this:

Chorley is most famous for its ‘Chorley Cake’ – Can’t say I tried one or even saw one in my time here to be honest, but ok, I accepted that one begrudgingly.
Urban Legend has it that King James I knighted the Sirloin Steak in Chorley (Arise Sir-Loin) – OK, let’s slow down a cotton picking (nice reference – Ed.) moment here! Now, I know I have done a few crazy things after a drink. There was that time when me and a few of the boys broke into a zoo, nicked a penguin, and then took it to the pictures. And we’ll say no more about the bucket of fish and the Peacock at the Hartwood Hall Hotel in Chorley, but this guy (Sorry…I mean King) knighted a Piece of Steak!! Firstly, I wanted to know if he managed to get garlic mushrooms with his Steak? – well did he??..mm??!!..mm??!!..mm??!! There is a shortage in these parts – take it from me!!!. Secondly, had old James been at the Absinthe before dinner?
Sir Henry Tate was one of Chorley’s most famous Son’s. Celebrated for his for his merger with Abram Lyle, together they gave the world the renowned Tate and Lyle brand. The Sugar Mogul went on to fund the creation of the Tate Gallery in London. Now I liked this one. I like to think of myself as a bit of a culture vulture (no I do….honest…I stopped eating peas off my knife ages ago), and so I appreciated the Tate angle. Maybe all wasnt lost in my quest for a more interesting Chorley!!.

Alas, that was it unfortunately. This really was a one horse town, and in keeping with that, I slowly rode out of this town on my faithful horse Stagger. Despite the best efforts of the locals, my Compadres and I hadn’t been run out of town. Even on the night they surrounded us in a Berni Inn we wouldn’t be beat. We just formed a circle and defended ourselves by throwing wine menus and chicken nuggets back at them. They even tried other tactics like refusing to serve food or show football matches in some of their saloons. But we always knew we had to drink upstream from the herd to survive. And now I looked back as I rode down the A6, as careful as a naked man climbing a barbed wire fence. I shook a fist at the Chorley Accordion Club, its windows all dusty and black. I laughed in defiance at the elderly man on the door of ‘Shagger’s Nightclub’. Yes Chorley, I still didn’t know how you were (and apparently are) the undiscovered jewel in the crown of the Wild Wild North-West? But someone somewhere loves you, I know I don’t. The only reason we survived you was because real cowboys dont run….they just slowly ride out of town.

Until next time….

The Shandy Bar Kid

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The end of the world

May 27, 2011

And so it’s here again…Friday. It’s been a while since I have been here. To be honest I didn’t expect to see today at all. Last week I was busy preparing for the end of the World. It had been a bit of a week in all honesty. I wanted to do all the things I needed to before the Four Horsemen appeared. So I caught up with the excellent TV series House and soaps Corrie and Enders. I have to say I thought the Apocalypse had already hit Albert Square judging by the large amount of Zombies walking around Walford. I listened to my favourite music at maximum volume, learned how to play a complete set of Bob Dylan tunes on my guitar (easy as long as you know the chords G, C and D), and hired a Ford Mustang for a day. There wasn’t much time left for the rest of my ‘Bucket-List’ (Kylie would have probably been a nightmare to get hold of anyway). Finally, on Saturday I cleaned the Apartment (bearing in mind my mother’s insistence when I was young that I wore clean underwear, in case I got run over by a car or bus!). I checked the clock, Nemesis was fast approaching; I needed a beer. I went to my local pub at around 2pm. The End of the world was due at 6pm apparently. I had plenty of time, so I shot some Pool with a few people, and bet on a couple of horses (making sure that the races finished in ample time for me to collect any winnings before 6pm) and asked the Bar-Man to put some Cristal Brut 1990 on ice for around 5.30pm. They obviously didn’t stock anything as fine as that, so two bottles of Lambrini were ordered instead. I won the Pool games and my horses had started to win. This was unheard of; anyone who knows me will confirm I have as much luck with the Horses as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest. I felt good. I was ready for it; in the immortal words of REM, it was the end of the world as we knew it and I felt fine. I popped open the champagne (ok…fizzy wine!) and started counting the clock down; it was now 5.45pm…just 15 minutes left. I wondered how the end of the world would manifest itself?…massive explosions? …everything just disappearing in a flash?….the ground just quietly opening up beneath my feet???…I wasn’t sure, but the Lambrini was tasting damn good now! A friend ran in and screamed for a round of Jagemeister shots for everyone…the clock was getting closer to 6pm…I felt no fear, in fact I was quite excited! I’d never seen the end of the world before (unless you include Cardiff City’s play-off debacle against Reading – it was the end of my world that night I can tell you!). Drinks were being thrown down everyone’s throats, there were 5 minutes to go before the pub became nothing, an empty void…I ran outside for my final cigarette, armed with a pint of the finest Bourbon..the Party had started….I finished both the drink and cigarette and ran back in for a refill…there were 90 seconds to go….everyone became quiet…then a countdown was started…10…9…8…and then we got to zero! Nothing happened…The place was silent…and then I heard a cough from behind the bar, the Flat Screen TV on the wall flicked on…and there it was..this was how the end of the world was going to manifest itself…’So you think you can dance’ had just begun on BBC1…..I left the pub downhearted…the consolation was that at least I had time to try and get hold of Kylie now…..I also needed the number of that Harold Camping guy…he owed me big, my bar tab was huge!

Laters

The Shandy Bar Kid

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Someone Like You

May 16, 2011

Ah monday monday, I dont hate you as much today. And I dont really know why Monday. Maybe I have given you something of a hard time of late. I apologise…but dont get too comfy monday….because it can all change so quickly! Anyway, new song finished this weekend. It could be better but I am a bit of a lazy bastard at times. I like it as it is. It’s called ‘Someone Like You’ – Please see the link below. It’s the third of several songs I have had hanging around. It’s the same as everything, that valuable commodity time doesnt make itself as available to me as I wish. So it’ll take time to get this project finished, and it doesnt help when I keep losing my plectrum!

Someone Like You

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Keep the faith

Mike

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Life in a one horse town

May 5, 2011

I never thought I’d experience it myself. I had certainly seen it on the TV as a kid. Those early Western Movies, the camera staring down the new face as he rode into town. People would hide behind windows taking a peek at the stranger as he strolled down the street. Tumbleweed would roll across the ground as the newbie spat out his cheroot to the floor. The place seemed deserted, and all our hero wanted was a beer and some food. Well, after my last few days here, I am getting deja vu…welcome to Tuesday night in Nowheresville, Lancashire, twinned with Dodge City. All I wanted was some hot food, a drink, and a pub showing the Barca V Real Madrid game. Not a tall order you’d think. So I saddled up my faithful horse Stagger and rode into town. I stopped at the first pub, it looked promising. The sign on the door said ‘home-made food served 7 days a week’. I could feel my taste buds start to stir. I tied up my horse and walked through the door. The place was empty except for a lone Bar man stood with his arms folded, staring at the TV (which was switched off). I just got that sinking feeling. ‘Are you serving food’ I asked. He paused for a second and then said ‘Nah, not today’. I waited for him to add ‘not much call for it around here mate’. I ordered a beer anyway. It came in a glass that carried an aroma of dog’s crap. I walked out, untied my trusty steed and moved to the next pub. It had just re-opened after a refurb. Hope filled me as I walked in, only to be told there was ‘no food for the next two weeks’. I moved on, now beginning to wish I had brought Yul Brynner, Clint Eastwood and various other outlaws with me. This could be a tough town to break. I stopped at the next pub. It had food a-plenty, and beer…but no football. This was getting difficult to say the least. Stagger was getting thirsty, as indeed was I. I pulled up at the next pub. I entered to find it had beer, it had food, it had football,…..but it didnt have the garlic mushrooms I wanted as a starter. I persevered. I ate and drank and watched the first half of the game. As it progressed I found myself getting surrounded by locals, who didnt take kindly to ‘my kind’ in town. I decided to move on to the next pub for the second half of the game. Stagger could only manage a slow trot now as this town almost broken him (as it had me too). We pulled up at the last saloon bar. It was empty, but the football was being shown. I walked in and ordered one bourbon, one scotch, and one beer. I took my stool at the bar, took a shot at the spitoon (and missed) and looked up at the TV. The screen froze. The Barmaid apologised and said that the TV ‘did that sometimes’. I asked when it would come back on, to which she replied ‘who knows?’. Enough was enough, I pulled out my Smith & Wesson and began to shoot out the bottles behind the bar.People (well, the Bar Maid that is) ran screaming. I blew the smoke from the end of the gun’s barrel. I then drank my beer and decided to get on my horse and head back to my wig-wam….but when I got outside…… Stagger had been frigging clamped!

Later Y’all!

The Shandy Bar Kid

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Easter ramblings

April 25, 2011

So Easter is almost over and work beckons. I recall someone once telling me how work was good for the soul. I can’t remember who though. Or maybe I had read it somewhere? I certainly can’t be bothered ‘Googling’ that sentiment on a beautiful sunny day like this. It was probably some arse of a Teacher back in my school days. Well as nice a thought as it seems, recent figures show that a good 70% of man (sorry, ’person’) hours in the office are spent abusing e-mail and the internet (I have obviously fabricated this figure as I couldn’t find anything when I Googled ‘e-mail and Internet abuse in the workplace’). I managed to find several features describing how E-mail earned high marks in the workplace as a tool of communication, an aid in many work tasks, and a facilitator of good working relationships. This is of course total garbage. E-mail is mostly used for gossip, jokes, sports, general chat, and, for the luckier among us, flirting. So in conclusion, there must be a lot of soul-less people out there.

I have just filled in my Postal Vote for the AV System. I can’t help but feel it’s a bit of a nonsense, seems to me it’s a System where everybody gets what nobody wants, and that can’t be good for the Country now can it? But then we have become such a pussy whipped nation, I dont know what is good for the Country anymore. Having said that, the imminent Royal Wedding is clearly attracting visitors to these shores, and bringing funds into the UK’s coffers, and that is clearly a good thing. Tourism is getting a huge boost, as I witnessed last weekend. I took a trip to London where the place was swamped with foreign visitors. And the Hotels, well the bulk of them have naturally doubled their prices for the whole month of April. Scandalous?!

More hopeful news on the Band reformation (see ‘Where’s me plectrum’..). A ‘meet’ has now been mooted which will no doubt also include a few drinks. I look forward to it, but still haven’t found me plectrum. My memory records our last gig as being around 1987, and to be honest none of us were really getting on. Some of the guys had given up on getting anywhere with it. Me?, I never wanted to let it go. I can’t remember where the aforementioned last gig was however. I recall we did get together for a rehearsal in the 90’s, but it only happened once. I think I am probably pre-empting things as I have started putting a set list of songs together for us. I’m probably tempting fate, I normally do

Ah well, Off out now to enjoy the rest of the holiday.

Happy Easter!

TTFN

POSTCARDS FROM WITHIN – By Michael J Phillips