Shipwrecked

My goodness.

Yet another completely unsheduled adventure. I mean for heavens sakes the whole T' Quozi thing is almost behind one now, even though, due to some last minute wrangling with ones publisher, the diary version has yet to be announced publicly herewithin.

Anyway, there was I, one, with staff, sailing gaily a-westward across the Atlantic when quite inconveniently during the evening we struck the Isles of Scilly. One says 'inconveniently' because, had the little darlings been just a few degrees South, or North, they would have avoided my entourage completely. However, it was quite devastating and terribly dampening to be marrooned upon that rock, at THAT time of night and to be extracted by 'breeetches boy' from a lifeboat was seriously humiliating. Anyway the traditional fisherman's close coupled harmonies eminating from The Atlantic bar almost made up for the hole in ones bilge!!

My goodness indeed. One suspects one is becoming committed to explanations as well as descriptions. Tootle pip.

Hendersons of Stirling

Dearest Riff Raff

Today ones new est kilt arrived from the kiltmakers Hendersons of Stirling. I am particularilry pleased with the cut and length, and it was surely worth the flight to Edinburgh for an accurate measuring and a trying on of samples. I so detest those websites offering a kilt for meagre money and constructed by vague internet measurement offerings. If you want a kilt, go see a pro, and get measured. No messing. Also have new belt and sporran in the making from some bonny folks at Centaur Design. I shall be happy to promote their details once their product is received.

Must get on with the T'Qozi adventure so quickly, one fears that ones fans cannot wait much longer before toiletry demands, err, make demandTootle pip.

Kilts'n''T'Q'ozi

Good day peasants.
I have just spent a fabulous and all too quick day in Edinburgh and, more importantly in Stirling being measured for a new kilt. I need a new angle on my hereditory clan and whatever for our lessers. Morte to follow real soon......

The actual T'Qozi Adventure

The Actual T'Qozi Adventure
Following our visit to Zanzibar, Benji and I got a flavour of adventure and excitement that left an exotic and prickly taste on the tongue. Anyway, we soon forgot her name and decided a few days later that some sort of exploratory adventure was on the cards. Whilst Benji jetted off to Miami for a weekend of poker and milkshakes, I poured over old copies of National Geograhic, the diaries of Sir Ranulph (hero) Fiennes, and the celebrity pages of Top Hat to try and establish who was discovering where, at the moment. After several days of gruelling study and four bottles of Tanqueray I realised that the legendary land of the T'Qozi's still lay undiscovered and unchartered. Whats more, no-one could with any certainty pinpoint exactly within which continent it lay. Aha, a challenge at last!
To cut rather a long and tedious story short, Benji and I spent the next few weeks securing sponsors, equipment and international travel permits and by the following friday stood on the borders of T'Qozi wearing splendid 2003 Fuerte Coco surf shorts and Dude Dawg shades, wondering just what incredible fate awaited us.
Well after a few rather luxurious and very reasonable cocktails in a local truckers bar, we ventured deep into the jungle, led only by our native guide Rubin, and a team of somewhat despondent cameramen who were supposedly filming a documentary on tribal yachtsmen.
After what seemed months (but was possibly several hours) of hardship crawling naked (ish) though swamps and jungle inhabited by venomous biting snakes and irritating hopping tickling toads we arrived at a small and sunny clearing filled with old tree roots and a rusting Dutch bicycle. There, through the flickering sunlight and tricksey shadows we caught our first glimpse of the T'Qozi people. Silent at first, and hardly moving, they endlessly counted twigs and ants, as if mesmerised by numbers and amounts. Anything that was stationary, or that moved, was accounted for by some sign or gesticulation. The T'Qozi did not speak in a language such as we do, they communicated by a series of clicks made primarily by sharp movements of the tongue. Hence the name T'Qozi is pronounced 'click-kozi'. We steadily gained their trust over a number of weeks. At first they seemed shy and easily spooked by our pencils, sunglasses, and V8 luxury Bellargio appointed Land Rovers (http://www.eaurouge.com/images/blackbellargio/thumbs/black%20008.jpg) brimming with the latest digital electronic recording equipment. However once we had shared a few donuts and, a particular favourite as it turned out, Thunderbirds mouse mats, they seemed to trust us and began to share their twigs and ants with us.
By the following tuesday they summoned their dignitaries to meet us. This turned out to be a fellow of immense and respected heritage of a "royalty and voodoo" nature and he called himself Lambone T'Qozi of T'Qozi. Of equal if not greater importance was his (apparent) mother known simply as 'Mama' T'Qozi.
Upon meeting these most incredible people we instantly realised that whist they had zero knowledge of western culture, global affairs, medium density fibreboard, elastoplast, internal combustion engines, flight, Coors Extra Gold, Dr Who or super tampons, they possesed an uncanny yet natural specialisation for accounting and administration. Within minutes we realised the potential of such talent within the Lazyway organisation and set about securing their transfer to civilisation. A particular bonus we reckoned, was Lambones ability to transform almost any object into a male mallard duck, using his inherently charming black voodoo boogie wherewithall. We sensed a profit.
The following installment will chart Benji's insistence on following the T'Qozi river sysytem to its source. Benji being a dude who has a natural fear of all things wet, employed the services of respected international expedition canoe consultant Ms Rosemary Carmeltoe to gain the necessary skills required for such a harrowing physical exploit. Rosemary certainlyl showed him a trick or two and he has not paddled with such enthusiasm since!

Photographic evidence to follow!

Aston

Weddings, muddy knees and haggis

Och hello again. Yet another jolly 10 days enjoying the benefits of a lazy and wealthy lifestyle. This time I have been off touring the magnificent Highlands of my home country of Sctotland. The primary purpose of my visit was to attend the traditional highland wedding of one of my lovely cousins, held in the most wonderful setting at the Mc Talisker country seat on the edge of The Trossachs. It was a most spectacular affair with champagne, dancing, merriment and rope ladders and shooting for the children, all set against a breathtaking backdrop of snow covered mountains. My oh my.

Next we popped over to Edinburgh and ones usual suite at the Balmoral Hotel for some traditional highland luxury hospitality. I noticed some chaps were watching a game of rugby on a large screen in the hotel lounge. I discovered it was Scotland against England, and was being played just down the road in Edinburgh itself. Fortunately my driver had only had a small tonic and black pepper and so we rolled off to the stadium to purloin an empty box and watch the remainder of the game.

Naturally Scotland won the game and so it was off to my favourite Thai restaurant by the Royal Botanic Gardens for a traditional spicy haggis supper with king prawns, giant squid steaks and the finest Eastern french fries this side of Minsk.

More soon.

Meanwhile feel free to tell me about your adventures by joining the forum at www.lazyway.co.uk

Cheers!

Sharks and The Darkness Trouser Incident

Well I must say that this has been a most agreeable week. I have toured the length of the country on a promotional expedition for two things, firstly the wonderfully exciting website that I share with my eccentric friend Benji Ferrero, and secondly to research for my forthcoming book. (For those folks who have not already discovered the fantastic opportunities afforded by our website, just take a look right now at www.lazyway.co.uk and see what I mean.) My book is going to be on the subject of how to sell your property and making an absolute fortune. This is something that I am rather good at myself, and would have no hesitation in sharing my secrets as a bouyant property market does no harm to anyone. Certainly pays for an endless supply of claret!

Whilst passing through the quaint old port of Bristol on tuesday, my driver suggested that we stop off for a look at the Imax theatre down by the old quay. I am very glad we did as I certainly learnt a thing or two. Imax is quite a grand affair, probably two or three times the size of ones own personal cinema (but sadly without a bar or continental bistro) and it was showing a fascinating film about sharks, in 3D. Have a look here if you fancy http://www.sharks3d.com/ It is a fantastic film that I would thoroughly recommend to anyone. It highlights the plight of sharks worldwide and rather grimly points out that, thanks to human industrial expansion and the dining habits of eastern civilisations, many of these magnificent creatures are critically endangered. It is quite unbelievable to learn that sharks are ruthlessly caught from the ocean, their fins cut off, and then they are thrown back into the sea, still alive but no longer unable to swim or fend for themselves. And all in the name of sharks fin soup. Ghastly, utterly, disgusting. Don't ever order it in a restaurant.

Last evening one found oneself in yet another delightful old fishing village, namely the historic port of Plymouth in Devon where one enjoyed a rather exciting and somewhat noisy evening in the company of Justin Hawkins and chums The Darkness at Plymouth Pavillions. It was rather nice to catch up with Justin as he is a most charming and entertaining character, and the Darkness certainly appreciate fine claret and groovy fashions. In fact several numbers into their act, Justins rather fabulous flared trousers began to give way in a most embarrassing place. Within a few more bars the crotch had split wide open much to the amusement of brother Dan and other band members Ed and Richie. Justin, who in true rock tradition was not wearing any underwear, grinned and carried on with his hand covering the hole. I was just considering putting down my claret and popping back to the hotel to fetch a case of my own trousers (we share similar dress sense you see), when someone kindly provided a towel which Justin wrapped around his waist and carried on like the true professional that he is. We were all particularily amused by the fact that the pack of press photographers who had been hungrily snapping glamourous pictures throughout the first couple of numbers, had cleared off (presumably to the bar) at the point of the trouser incident and so missed the scoop front page photo of the year.

And as for the party that followed, well that is another story......

Have a good time, ALL the time!

Cheers

Aston

By the way in case you are a deaf mute albino cave dwelling amoeba type thing and have not heard about The Darkness, you can find out more about them here http://www.thedarknessrock.com/ as long as your cave has internet access. They are almost as good as sharks.

Dont forget you can follow the zany exploits of Aston Mc Talisker and Benji Ferrero at www.lazyway.co.uk

Astons Chopper!

I've just ordered a new helicopter from Robinson in California.

Whilst researching I found a list of all the helicopter manufacturers in the world. Not many supply a holder for ones claret glass. But if you want to find the ones that do check here... www.jamiewilson.com/page3.htm

Follow my other adventures at www.lazyway.co.uk

Hello Peasants!

Well Gosh!

Have you seen that I'm now famous on the Interweb thing?

Aston Mc T.
x

Check me and my pal Benji out at www.lazyway.co.uk