The Pie Night

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Carrick-on-Rede 'Rope Bridge of Death'

Here is a picture of the 'Rope Bridge of Death' that Al and the Chicken-Hawk crossed in an awe-inspiring display of bravado... but little Matt refused to due to his abject fear, apparently of rope bridges. Note the elderly lady and small children on the bridge.

More UOBTUBE.TV on YOUTUBE.

Interviews with TyFry.com, Simone,and world champion drummer Jimbo Laughlin online.

On the high road to Gairloch

Yes people, the high road to Gairloch.

Going to water

When you think of choking, one thinks of Ian Baker-Finch, Greg Norman, Mama Cas... Well you can add another name to that dellustrious list - the Chicken-Hawk. The man was so close to the love of his drumming life, the sultry Simone, but appeared to fall apart at the crucial moment (ie. the introduction and chatting part) like some sort of soggy paper bag made out of particularly soggy lettuce. It was ugly to watch (see the attached photo). But, like a shortish Phoenix rising from balding ashes, the Chicken-Hawk stood up to be counted, and intercepted his bogey at approximately 2200hrs (see UOBTUBE.TV #6). What a moment it was! The party stopped, a choir of angels began to sing We Built This City on Rock'n'Roll, and they danced a a merry dance like two frolicking forest nymphs. And how did it end? See the interview on UOBTUBE.TV.

UOBTUBE.TV

To view videos, go to YOUTUBE and search for UOBTUBE.TV
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHpHDaXVf24

Interviewing Drew Duthart for UOBTUBE.TV

An absolutely legendary bloke.

Glasgooooow

Dropped the car off after an absolutely epic 700 mile journey through the Scottish highlands. We are now fully 'embedded' in the pre-World's pipes and drums fest! Last night we launched a new, exciting addition to the UOBTUBE, UOBTUBE.TV! It has already taken Glasgow by storm with 4 big big interviews of the hottest names in scottish music. Including the sultry TyFry.com, Reid Maxwell, Eric Ward, and Drew Duthart. Links to the videos on youtube (the other tube) will be posted as soon as they go up. The next interview being lined up is with the king of SFU, Terry Lee. I am trying to get it filmed in a spa, but this is proving difficult. Stay tuned!

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The bitter bitter disappointment

Some people leak disappointment. It oozes from them like an arborial canker. We ran into one at Tullamarine. Michelle. Not the Ballaratian brunette bombshell variety but the Singapore Airline's ticket desk lady. Not only did she not deem my Level II First Aid Certificate (expired) as satisfactory qualification for an upgrade, she sat us next to the toilet. Not any toilet, but one that receives more daily visits than Sinjuku Station. You are an outrageous woman. Yes, I've spoken of this woman before but her name was brought up again when we met her match at the Highland ski resort. After a night in Aberdeen we cruised over the highlands, destination Inverness (which we never made it to), when we unexpectently ran into the heart of ski resort! To say this was a surprise would be putting it mildly. Obviously an opportunity too random to pass up, we went in to get a pass for the Chairlift which we deemed a mildly gnarley, Pepsi Max thing to do. What would have been even bigger on the Pepsi Maximeter would be taking the chairlift up and riding down on Mountain Bikes? The sign out the front said bikes for hire. So we went in to rent a bike and were told they didn't! "But the sign says you do!" "Oh nooo", she said. "Bike hire is an hour away". Oh right, no worries, makes sense. So we just got a chairlift ticket which really is pretty lame when you think about it, by itself. Three blokes riding up a chairlift in the middle of summer, legs swinging in the air; without a gnarley, extreme sport to satiate our masculine requirements. In fact, the trip up was so demasculating that I wanted to pick wildflowers when we got to the top. However, when we did make it to the top we discovered that you can ride billy-carts down an 'extreme' track to the bottom of the mountain. But not us, oh no. The disappointette had failed to inform us of the availability of this activity and thus we didn't hire the required helmets needed to use the billy-carts. Office lady- welcome to the Scotland trip hall of shame.

White men can't jump.

You know that white men can't jump. I for instance can only leap about two inches off the ground despite having legs like steel springs. Another man who had some serious aerial issues was Corey McKernan. This is important because this very discussion was the catalyst for the biggest coincidence seen since coincidences were invented by Homo erectus in around 120000 BC. Before leaving for St Andrew's we had a casual discussion about how Corey McKernan (Kangaroos/Carlton ruck-rover) couldn't time his jumps at the end of his career. Didn't think much of it, but the Chicken-Hawk (always a detail man) commented that he was also a good golfer. End of discussion. We headed to St Andrew's in the newly acquired Renault Megane (I take back everything I have ever said about Renault). 6 gears of motoring smoothness. It is truly the E.L.O of hatchbacks.

Arriving in St Andrews was like a religious awakening for the Chicken-Hawk. He went through various stages of awe. Starting with silence, then a sort of dull squeal, culminating in a long straw of drawl emerging from his mouth and dangling from his chin like a shoe-lace. It was a touching moment and one that the wee Chicken-Hawk will never forget. We then did a tour of the old course which was a boredom competition between the tour guide's ramblings, a old Canadian gent, and the Chicken-Hawk who regaled us with continuous British Open stories. At one point I tried to impale myself of a bunker rake to escape this water torture. However, unbelievably, we ran into who else but the leper of leaping Corey Mckernan. We couldn't believe, he couldn't believe it, I still can't believe if it, and if you can believe it then consider my friendship officially terminated. It is diconbobulatingly ridiculous. He loved, we loved it, I wanted a group hug, but we did get a cracking photo, which will be uploaded as soon as I can get the photos off my phone.

So that was St Andrews. Great part of the world. Wait for the photos, genius.

e-spent.

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"I didn't realise Scotland was connected to England" (Ben Hood, Argyle 2009)

The impact of the touring party was felt early on in Glasgow. The first morning in Glasgow we wnet for a cheeky jog down to the Glasgow Green to inspect the future arena for the Pipe Band Champs. Whilst down there we indulged in a bit of kick to kick with the Sherrin kindly supplied by Matty. And when I say 'a bit of kick to kick', I mean we were firing sternum breaking spear passes over 50 m off a step. If the grass in the arena appears to have brown streaks in the 2009 World's DVD you know where the burn marks have come from. As we were putting on this exhibition we were approached by a member of the Glasgow Sharks Australian Rules Football Club and asked to come down to training. 10 hours in the country, already sporting stars. Signs looked good for the boys.

Another point of clarification. By 'cheeky jog' I should have written 'cheeky jog that has reduced the Chicken-hawk's walking gait to something that resembles Kerry Saxby at the end of a 50km Olympic walk (by his own admission). How the great men are falling apart! In fact, the three of us are such supreme physical specimens that after two jogs we had to hightail it to the nearest wee pharmacy and buy some joint ointment. Pathetic really.

Great. Britain. At last.

There is a phenomenon currently gripping the world. It's the U-shaped pillow, aka the Spine-Sofa, the U-Pillow, the Neck-Couch. Yes, I have spoken about them before, but I am currently love-struck. These simple, soft and cuddly neck hugging devices are probably the most important development in human comfort since the invention of boxer shorts. To think of the ridicule I gave the Chicken-hawk at the start of the trip. "Who brings a pillow! What's next a bum bag or money-belt?" I jeered. How wrong I was! I think the band should definitely add them to our line of merchandise. In the meantime, get yourself down to UFS Bridge Mall and pick one up. You won't regret it!

Anyway, stop over in Singapore was relatively incident free apart from the purchase of more spine-sofas. Boarding the plane, however, was a different story. It all started with our Singapore Airlines 'Ticket Allocation Representative' at Tullamarine. She literally took an entire geological epoch to check our bags in and issue our boarding passes. And do you think, during all this time, she could have wrangled us some good seats? No. The leg between Singapore and London was spent sitting 40cm from the toilet door. I think this may be some sort of cruel revenge for me asking her for an upgrade based on the fact I once held a First Aid Certificate (currently expired). Now there are some benefits of being so close to the ablution units. Primarily, the regular sound of flushing can be mistaken for waves crashing on a beach, if (1) you are three-quarters asleep, or (2) live near the effluent outflow at Williamstown. There are however some serious disadvantages to this septic proximity. Firstly, people feel that if it is dark and you look asleep, then they can thrust their rear-ends into your face as they wait and let people squeeze past. This situation would be a proctologist's dream, sure, but not quite my cup of tea. Secondly, the space near the toilets seems to attract all manner of manic, sugar-crazed toddlers who want to climb all over you. Finally, who wants to spend 12 hours feeling as if they are in a never-ending toilet queue! Not me. At least I had my neck-couch for comfort.

So... we are now in Glasgow. Tomorrow the Highlands.

Until then, may all your pillows be U-shaped,

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Touch down

Word of caution. If you run into a pom called Reese the Grease in an airport bar, do not engage conversation, and in all circumstances do not indulge in a cheeky drink with him... 3 sore and sorry boys touched down in Changi, let me tell you, after a 9 hour haul that was like a rollercoaster of ups and downs. Or more exactly, ups and giggles that turned into downs, and tantrums and headaches. Well to be honest the tantrums were only on the Chicken-hawks behalf who held his breath in a disappointing display of crankiness somewhere over the Malacca Straits.

Trip started well except for some sort of spanish inquisition I received from Matty's guardian angels pre-trip. How and why would the Chicken-hawk and I lead him astray? Two gents as pure as the driven snow? Alby gave me such a stern look he suddenly appeared to morph into some sort of dominatrix of the cruelest and leatherest kind. Don't worry guys, the young padwan is in very good hands!

One thing to pick up from that flight was the benefit of one of those bizarre U-shaped pillows. The Chicken-hawk has brought one along, in a gesture that I assumed meant he had finally, openly forfeited his manhood. However, it appears a stroke of genius. Comfort plus! Well played Chicken-hawk.

Next stop Heathrow.

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The countdown is on

Excitement is building as the departure date (6th of August) to Scotland is geting closer and closer. The Chicken-Hawk, small business owner, and Matty, small, are getting particularly excited as they will soon be in the land of fellow short people. In fact, I feel decidedly like Gullivar travelling with a couple of Lilliputians back to their pint-sized homeland! I have a theory about drummers actually. They are all dwarven because the constant beating on the drum, slung over their shoulder, is gradually shortening their legs and torso. Matt was 6 foot 2" last year. He now stands at a little over 4 foot. However, this is a convenient height for resting a pot-glass on his head.

Just a reminder also that we will not be able to make it to the band Sausage Sizzle.

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Welcome to the e-UoBTUBE

I tell you what! Paper was so last week. Emailed newsletters were so yesterday. But what's today? Blogs people. That's right. Blogs. Half log, half something else. It was time to embrace the future, and not just by watching more of the Jetsons.

So it's out with new 'editions' (even using that word makes me feel horribly unhip and a tad queasy) and in with an ever-mutating e-UoBTUBEulation [kids don't try and use that many vowels in a single-word, I'm a Doctor, it takes years of training].

So to get 'hip', to get 'new age' (in a tech-savvy way, not an Enya way), to get 'now', get onboard the e-UoBTUBE. Keep checking it regularly because as things come into the editorial team they will be immediately posted up.

If you want to keep your finger permanently on the pulse, hook our RSS feed into your favourite Reader (that's tech talk Les).

Over the next two weeks keep up to date with Operation Scotland, the epic journey of Matt, Al and the Chicken-hawk to the wilds of the Scottish Highlands. Regular posts and photos of a trip that The Age described as, 'the most exciting adventure since King Solomon's Mines', and 'a true coming of age story'.

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