Covert filming of preparations for the Digbeth Olympics’ Pico Prix in the back garden of The Spotted Dog, featuring their lovely barmaid Aswalia and Seamus the penguin.
Organiser Adam Crossley has advised all attending to book the following Monday off work, so you’ve been warned!
John Tighe said he’d email me his comments. And here they are. Who the hell is Little Jimmy?
URGENT PRESS RELEASE
At last one of Digbeth’s dirty little secrets in out in the open.
The rumours had been whispered in dark corners for many a year but, because of the power of the organisation concerned, nobody was brave enough to speak out. Until now!!!
No. These are not the rumours about planning corruption. Far worse!
No. These are nothing to do with Stasi-like activities of Council employees. Far worse!
No. These are not even about the bizarre sexual proclivities of the landlord of The Spotted Dog or rumours that Little Jimmy is really an amputee. Far, far worse!
Suspicions were raised a number of years ago when a strange-looking, secretive crew moved into the long-derelict Bird’s Custard Factory. What would they want to live there for? What were they doing? What was the reason for the spine-chilling noises emanating from the bowels of the old factory? Were they screams?
Sadly, it can now be revealed that even the most outrageous rumours about the inhabitants’ activities fell far short of the truth.
PENGUIN ABUSE!!!
One of the world’s most beloved and intelligent species (the latter evidenced by the fact that no penguin has ever attended a Blues or Villa match) is being systematically ill-treated for, we believe, religious reasons.
Nothing as despicable as this has been seen in England since the dissolution of the monasteries during the reign of that custard fanatic Henry VIII.
All of this has come to light with the escape from the clutches of these so-called Bird’s-lovers of Pingu, one of the long-term captives.
According to Pingu, who fled to The Spotted Dog claiming sanctuary and has now reverted to his real name, Seamus, he was kidnapped off the street when he was on his way home from the fish market, incarcerated in a dark room and subjected to torture by having techno music played to him 24 hours a day. Confusion reigned for a number of weeks during intensive questioning until Seamus realised that the denizens of the Custard Factory thought that he was a nun.
Alas, by this time, it was too late. Seamus had already owned up to being a Catholic. He was denied fish on Fridays and force-fed custard, which, everyone knows, is anathema to an Orthodox Penguin. His letters to His Holiness, Pope Penguidict XVI were severely censored and he was denied time to consort with the numerous other penguins who had been picked up in similar circumstances.
Seamus has said that he wants to stay at The Spotted Dog where he hopes to become a famous racing driver in the illegal Digbeth Olympics. He also wants to pursue his career as a musician and wants to partner Little Jimmy even if he’s an amputee and not a dwarf.
Custard Factory staff attending a party at The Spotted Dog this evening were met with a disturbing sight. Seamus McPingu (which I’m told is his full name) has cracked and is protesting his plight on the pub’s roof.
As well as the aforementioned demands for the Digbeth Olympics, he’s asked for, “fish on Fridays and no more fucking custard. It’s rank.”
The Custard Factory’s Marketing Director Dave Peebles was upset to the point of hysteria:
The Spotted Dog’s landlord John Tighe was too traumatised to give me his comments, and said he’d email them to me later.
I’m told Seamus has agreed to a television interview, which will be aired shortly.
PENGUINS 4 JUSTICE! FREE THE CUSTARD FACTORY 1!
The Custard Factory have been very careless with their penguins and they all seem to have disappeared. Apart from this one, which was found in the Abacus apartments car park and delivered into the arms of John Tighe at The Spotted Dog.
He wants to hold the little chap to ransom. He couldn’t decide on the terms, so I’ve just gone and made them up: COMMIT TO A SUITABLY OUTRAGEOUS CUSTARD COMPETITION FOR THE DIGBETH OLYMPICS, OR PINGU HERE GETS IT (probably by a nasty crash in some death-trap, home-made soapbox on wheels made for the event’s Pico Prix).
And this is what I thought of it:
Yet another sell-out screening with a massive queue. The special effects were good and all the better for being on a massive screen. Heath was lush, and Bale’s voice really did drop 3 octaves when he was Batman. The Joker may have had razor blades taken to his face, but Batman eats them with his cornflakes.
Even funnier was the bad school Halloween display of plastic bats caught up in a web of cotton wool in the Imax Box Office:
Aw, bless.
Right now I’m in my dressing gown at the tail-end of a ludicrously lazy day, thinking about getting dressed and out of the house to make it on time for the evening screening of The Dark Knight at The Imax Cinema in Millennium Point. I felt I had to book myself a ticket after all the Twitter posts about watching it on the huge screen. If you live and blog in Birmingham, it seems you simply must go and watch the latest Batman film at The Imax and tweeting about it is compulsory:
First off comes the moaning about The Imax’s crap website:
This makes booking tickets hard to do:
I can vouch for this. Booking my ticket online took several attempts and their ‘ticket hotline’ had no-one to answer it. But once tickets were booked excited anticipation followed:
High spirits have often been dampened by bloody great big queues at The Imax:
The screenings have been sold out, which caused nostalgia in some:
So I’d really better get dressed and get there early to avoid front-row seating and a sore neck:
45 minutes early, to be precise, which means I haven’t got that long:
Because the cinema really will be rammed:
Which has often meant that although people have enjoyed the film:
They haven’t always enjoyed the venue:
I really hope it’s worth the effort of getting dressed and Heath’s last stand is indeed, lush:
Watch my twitter account to see how I enjoyed it!
