Who we are:
[Steve] [Paul W] [Chris M] [Chris K] [Matt] [Sendu] [George] [Paul M]
by Paul M. Not because I am the fountain of all knowledge, but I was the one who designed this originally.
So. Steve. Where do I start? Steve's best described as an extrovert. Despite claiming to be half-Polish, he must be half-Irish; nothing else could explain his gift of the gab. Not for nothing was he known as "Gibbery". Amongst other things, obviously, including "John Lennon" (for two/three years he had ridiculously long hair and Lennon-esque shades) and "Stain", apparently a hideous contortion of his name. Not to mention the "Purple Boy", because he's a bit....well.....er...purple...and will therefore lurrrrrrve this colour scheme.
Our Steve has a fetish for hi-NRG wobbly-arse dance music and Monsieur Jean-Michel Jarre in particular. Not only does he own virtually every CD of the great man, he keeps trying to recreate "Oxygene" and all that other bollocks on his big organ. And boy can he play his big organ! He makes it sing like you wouldn't believe! Not to mention his funky theremin, which is...strange, really. You wave your hands round it. Sound waves. I think.
I met Stevie Wonder some 6 years ago now, over which time I think I've come to know him pretty well. I've even seen him get stressed, which considering his laid-back attitude usually leans towards the horizontal is no mean feat. Fortunately I wasn't the target for his anger.
He also got so drunk that he insisted he could walk back all the way from Magaluf to our hotel. More recently he's started wearing shiny silver shirts and sparkly sleeveless vests (which his mum bought him - is she trying to tell you something, Steve?), as well as silver nail polish with sparkly bits.
Make of that what you will. We did. Fnar.
Steve (by Sash! himself)
I've known Paul for even longer than Steve, having first met him when I was.....oooh, about 8 or so. About 11 years ago, in fact. I didn't know him that well for the first 3/4 years or so ... I think. To tell you the honest-to-God truth, I can barely remember that far back so this may all be complete bollocks. But anyway.
As you'd expect when you've known someone that long, you tend to be able to read their mind. Paul can do this to me with alarming accuracy, to be quite frank and sometimes I wish he wouldn't. Although I've started going off on weird tangents recently and he's looking more and more perplexed. Which can only be a good thing.
Unlike the rest of us, Paul seems to have no clearly defined musical taste. He seems to like most stuff, even the shit they play on local commercial radio. And the Smurfs. All attempts by us to get him to become a convert to a) hi-energy ambient dancey electronic shit, b) obscene punk or c) credible indie NME shit have failed. Still, I'm sure he'll soon develop very discriminating musical taste in one area or the other. As long as it's not church bells peals, that is. (He seems completely unashamed of ringing church bells, - or being a camponologist, as he never calls it - despite us mercilessly taking the piss about it).
As with Steve above, Paul got very very very very very very very very very (you get the drift) drunk in Magaluf. Mainly 'cause we'd gone to a club with free drinks till about 6 in the morning, and I kept ordering weird combinations - Campari and Coke? - found they tasted shit and so passed them on to Paul. So...while everyone else crashed on the beach at about 5:30 in the morning, Paul wandered off unconsciously and came to the other side of town, having a leak in an alleyway. And not knowing where he was or how the hell he got there. He eventually found us about an hour later - and several miles - away.
Paul himself is - even if he denies it - possibly one of the most morally upstanding and honest people I've ever met. Quite how he got to be this way is beyond me, but never mind. He's also way too sensible. He explained he didn't want to dye his hair amusing colours now as there'll be plenty of time later. Even though he'll be bald. And the only thing he'll be rubbing on his head will be hair restorer.
Paul (by Beelezub himself)
Chrissy boy. Otherwise known as "spliff moorderer", partly because of a feeble pun on his surname and more likely due to his slight propensity to do weed and assorted other shit at the drop of a hat. Seemingly an expert on bongs, Chris is the bloke you go and see if you want drug advice. We're talking about a man who sent me a ten point guide congratulating me on having a spliff. Sage advice it was too.
Chris is one of the most ...unique drivers I've
ever been with. Fortunately I wasn't with him at the time, but he managed
to roll his Fiesta three times (while taking a corner at about 70), demolish
a hedge and [apparently] partly turned the car into a convertible. How
he got away with this with only having 3 stiches on his arm is unbelieveable,
really. Chris also has a superb taste in music; this can vary from a spot
of obscene punk to classic 60's theme tunes to Abba and back again with
a slight detour via the Who and electronic shit (as all music without gritarse
guitars shall be deemed in this page ;-)...
He's also developing a slight addiction to alcohol, finishing off a bottle of gin in one night and getting so drunk he could barely walk...and you wouldn't describe him as a lightweight.
Last year he was doing Genetics at University College, London, but he's having a year out now. Although he's now going back there to do another year. Confused yet? I certainly am.
Did I mention that for a few weeks he had to drive everywhere at 45 mph because his right rear suspension was collapsing? Or that the back of his car shook so badly you couldn't hear anything? (Car related anecdotes could go on for sometime...). He's fixed that now though. And the fairy lights he's wired up round the numberplate are very tasteful.
Chris M (by himself. Through a thick fog of smoke)
Without doubt the most sensible - at least on the outside - of all of us. Or maybe we're all just very immature and Chris is a bit more mature. Incidentally, as well as sharing a name with Chris [above], he also shares a desire for driving aged Fiestas as fast as they can go. In 1st gear. Oh, and treating the hill to the 6th form car park as a rally course. But then everyone did that. Especially "de rude boys" in their Novas. But I digress.
Unlike everyone else, Chris seems to actually have ambitions and purpose in life, despite our best efforts to indoctrinate him otherwise. I mean, this is the man who, when asked what he'd be doing in 10 years time, replied "Working in a field of research - finding cures to diseases". Despite this allegedly serious attitude, Chris is nonetheless up for mother drinking fests yet magically never seems to get drunk. Yet another unexplainable fact.
Actually, I'm going to have to contradict myself here as Chris has been working virtually non stop this summer (and making shit loads of money, no bad thing considering Lloyds wanted him to send his credit card back as he was in so much debt) and the one time I saw him we stayed resolutely sober. Even at New Year's he was fully in control. If only I could follow his example...
Chris K (courtesy of the sober one himself)
In all the years I've known Matt, he always had a reputation for being....er dodgy, for lack of a better description. On someone's 18th birthday, he tried to drag me down a dark alley shouting "come here little boy". [At this point it should be noted Matt is about 6'4". I'm about 5'9".] But now - shock of shocks - Matt has convinced us he is not, in fact, dodgy.
As well as being the tallest person I know, Matt is also one of the strangest. In a nice way, of course. Cue lots of jokes about shooting his load. With a rifle, obviously. What did you think, you disgusting little perverts?
Further to such military-type pursuits and stuff, Matt seems to spend a lot of time doing RAF type stuff at uni in Birmingham, which apparently involves flying very fast planes at very low altitudes and drinking beer at 60p a pint. It all sounds a very profitable use of time to me.
Matt. By..er Matt
Compared to everyone else here, I've only known George for about 4 years. He didn't come to the school until he was about 14. Or something. I can't honestly remember [notice how this is becoming a theme...]. In direct inversion to Matt, George is one of the shortest [blokes] I know, being only 5" something and a bit, despite a barely concealed desire to be the next Brad Pitt.
He actually lives miles away from the rest of
us (in Grantham, Lincolnshite shire) as his Dad is something
to do with the army and keeps having to move around the world which consequently
makes getting together for immense beer consumption a bit on the tricky
side. Having said that, he's in Leeds at t'moment so piss-ups are becoming
more common.
Actually, make that the next Mark Lamarr, given his glasses.
George. By the big man himself.
Sendu is the resident rude boy of de posse. Or not, as the case may be, given that his dad "Dr/Professor/'Sir' Balasubramaniam" appears to own half of Bedfordshire and is Mr Big.
Anyway, Sendu holds the title for being the quietest member of our little clique. Literally days have passed while we wait for Sendu to say anything. However, after 5 years, we finally worked out that he can communicate far better using a computer. Therefore with a bit of cosmetic surgery we've had a monitor and keyboard installed in his lower jaw. By the way, the photos were taken before we let the surgeon loose on him.
Being a dirty little bastard, Sendu attempted to use the school computers to set up a porn Web site with such delicacies as "Nice Naughty Nymphomaniac Nubile Goddesses from Stourbridge" [a hot bed for such ladies, or so I'm told]. Being a slightly slow dirty little bastard, he managed to sign his name on one of the computers and so it was only a matter of time before he got caught.
As well as doing funky things with 3D graphic-type bollocks, and worshipping Gillian Anderson (looks) and Tori Amos (music talent. Or something) Sendu is now attempting to set up a legal dirty porn site under the guise of being a shrine to supermodels. We wish him the best in his erotic endeavours.
Oh, and he has journalistic ambitions, despite my warnings that it's a mug's game. Which is obviously why I'm still thinking about it.
Recently Sendu appears to have disappeared. Whenever you phone his house up you get a weird answerphone message. We reckon it's likely that he's out rounding up poor Eastern European refugees to star in his latest quadruple X rated hardcore movie.
Update: we found him again. He'd been hiding in Leicester doing work. Bizarre child.
Paul Raymond on how he wants to be like Sendu
OK, in the interests of impartiality I'll leave Paul (the one above) to talk about me (or at least what he wrote in the yearbook...):
"I first met Paul in J3, and the first thing that struck me about him was how shy and quiet he was, a great contrast from all the drunken yobs in the school. Now, thankfully, he has been cured of these strange, aberrant tendencies. He gets drunk, likes loud obnoxious music, drinks beer, and even shouts abuse at passers by on Friday evenings.This last, however, he explained away, saying that the provocation for the abuse was the person's existence. Since the peron in question was Daniel White, I think that we can all agree with the sentiment.
The loud renditions that Paul made that night of "I'm not drunk, I'm just relaxed" will, however, stick in my mind for years to come. Especially so, because he bellowed it at me from a range of half a metre.
Paul is now a drunken yob, just like everyone else."
It's all lies, I tell you, damned lies.
Even when I woke up on Magaluf beach and hallucinated that a four storey block of flats was a huge rabid dog.
Me on Me (sounds a bit kinky...)
What we're doing
(Or pretending to do, in the case of the studenty-type people)
Mid-way through his 2nd year ('cause he's a bit s-l-o-w) at Surrey Uni, paying £65 a week rent (how we laugh....) to share actually quite a nice house [with a garden] with 2 dope-metaller freaks and someone called James - one of whom is going out with a Mandy Dingle lookalike - , 'studying' Electronic Engineering with French and attempting to form the next Apollo 440 with strange guitarist blokes as well as pumping out phat sounds with his keyboard, mixer, drum machine, phase pedal and theremin. As well as clearing out the local music shop, he also loves to wear more nail varnish than Danny La Rue.
Paul's currently in his 3rd and final year doing Business Studies at Sheffield Uni, indulging in a strange passion for Afro wigs and dodgy flares, living with 5 other blokes - although he denies any homo-eroticism - and generally getting very drunk. Though he denies this too.
Our Chris is back at UCL doing Genetics (in his second year) - and having to commute down there every day. He had a year out last year where he did a variety of things, including being a part-time barman, although he moved on from this to become a part time market researcher @ Luton Airport and more recently worked full time in a fish shop in a garden centre - cash in hand, apparently. Niiice.
In a bizarre twist of fate, Chris K is doing exactly the same course, at exactly the same place, as Chris M. At least he was until Chris M had a year off. Bloody scary if you ask me, but never mind. The sex god/muff magnet himself is apparently in 7th heaven having made a deal to share a house in Wembley with many women..
Who he now claims are all blokes.
And are all blokes, 'cause I've been round his house and met them.
He's also run out of money, which means he has
to live at home this year and commute down to London. Which sucks.
As does the fact that someone broke into his
car - a very attractive rusty D-reg Fiesta - and sawed the indicator
stick off as well as knackering the electrics. For some reason. Which means
he now has no indicators and headlights which only work on full beam. Superb.
Matt is doing Electronic Engineering at Birmingham, and apparently has to work extremely long hours. He also seems to run a computer/web company in his spare time as well.
In an obvious desire to be the next Alan Titchmarsh, George is doing something to do with landscaping/gardens/molesting gnomes at Leeds Met. This means he has to spend 5 years being a student. Some people get all the luck, eh?
Sendu is currently conquering the world of porn, having recently launched a bid for Playboy and successfully taken over Penthouse. He hopes later to include more hardcore images as the censorship laws relax. Including pictures involving snooker cues. Rumours that he plans to change his name to Hugh Hefner are, apparently, unfounded.
Someone mentioned that he was at Leicester Uni, studying Genetics, but that must be a load of crap.
I'm currently trying to do a degree in English and Linguistics at Manchester Uni [and getting steady 2:2 marks...hmm], drinking lots of beer and occasionally fitting in my 8-10 hours a week of lectures around hectic TV viewing and slothful slobbing. I'm also [very slowly] learning to play the guitar, as my tortured housemates will no doubt testify. Not to mention buying lots of very loud shirts from Afflecks' Palace.
"In space no-one can hear you scream...
'Cause no-one's really listening"