Tony Blews

Hurrah, apparently, for today I am 37 years of age, if you believe my driving license (so good i’ve been given six points!), passport (expired and unlikely to get re-newed), bank records and all that cock. However, that little bit of plastic that they tag new-borns with claims I was born on the 18th.

Hence I’m allowing myself two birthdays. Last night was the “don’t tell anyone, just get nicely drunk with my close mates” birthday.

Today will be just like yesterday, but with more people buying me drinks and me getting more arsey (I’m generally on an arsey-ness level of 4/10. Thats like DEFCON 3 but without nukes, or in the parlance something like “CLENCHED FIST”).

Anyway…

My lovely (if somewhat distanced – I live in the Midlands, they live in the North West) family sent me some nice cards.

Aw. Just like the envelope on the card I sent her.

“Mum said your hair looked like this” – Thanks Cath, really. I had ringlets for 3 days, which you never saw. I was trying to forget the time I looked like (The Lord Our God) Brian May.

Cards, Yay!

I photographed these against my home-made green-screen, and I’ve just noticed that my camera is set up wrong.

Sadly i’m too drunk to do it all again.

Notice to Catherine: Your “To my Brother” card claims that I have it all: This is patently rubbish.

• Style: Um, no. Ancient T-shirts, grey denims and George shirts are not stylish. Even Clarkson is more stylish than me.
• Good Looks: Ok, so I appreciate that you have the same genetic roots as myself and thus can’t say that i’m ugly without tarring yourself as a swamp-donkey or sea-monster, but really, be honest.
• Charm: Hmm. I think its obvious that I’m as charming as a scorpion pit. Or Stoke.
• Wit: Yes, I am witty. And sarcastic. And abrasive. I don’t mean to sound cruel, heartless and nasty, but I am, so that’s just how it comes out.
• Coolness: No I am not cool. Nearly all my clothes are black, an my haircut is approaching that of Terry Nutkin’s. I cannot be cool. I do, however, wear a 50s style bike jacket and get called by a called by a contraction of my surname (Blue), just like The Fonz. And Arthur Fonzerelli was cool, so I must be too! Actually, the only things that would make me more cool would be a narrowboat and a Land Rover (subtle hints).

I do not have it all, but in the words of Mercury, May, Deacon and Meddows-Taylor, “I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, And I want it now!”

Finally, I’d like to say “Hello, I’m still alive!” to Doctor Patel, who in 1995 (when I was 24) quoted “Torch Song” by Marillion in telling me that if I maintained my lifestyle, I wouldn’t reach 30. In your face! (I’ll probably have a heart attack tomorrow).

EDIT:

I’ve had quite a nice birthday. Loads of people bought me drinks.

It has only been marred by a wanker in a silver Jaguar XK who decided to sit through a green light, then belt across a crossing on red causing me to go flying and drop my curry.

But thats not important, and this is!

Jon over at Crackerwax has written me a happy birthday song. And here it is:

The Hair and Cheese Song

Thanks Jon, I think.

EDIT 2:

Cor blimey, would you believe it?

I got a message today from myspace telling me I share a birthday with this man:

Crikey, he even looks like me! (Obviously he has more hair, and it hasn’t fallen out as much as mine has).

Who is this chap? Well, its none other than Peter Mayhew, or as you may know him better, Chewbacca.

Hurrah and Huzzar! I share a birthday with a man who has proved that having no sense of style, crap hair (which does NOT make me look gay, despite what Jon thinks) and rubbish glasses need not be barriers to being successful. Provided, that is, you are 7’3″ tall, and are willing to dress up as a ginger yeti.

Beat that one, Crackerwax!