You guys might remember that a couple of years back I interviewed Mike Hodsall, British-born bass guitarist extraordinaire for legendary Canadian punkers D.O.A, here on this very website (you can read the interview HERE). Well, since then Mike has pushed forwards fiercely with his sober-journey, and is currently within a pube-width of nailing his 3 year soberversary!! Mike is a fucking top dude, and as a proper balls-to-the-wall-punker-gone-sober-but-still-killing-it he’s a genuine card-carrying authority on how to live life PROPERLY and with NO COMPROMISES. I’m therefore turbo-chuffed that Mike chose SoberPunks as his means by which to share his musings about getting sober with the world. Put on your helmet, grab the lube, and brace yourself. It’s Mike time…
Picture the scene…
It’s Monday evening, 17:30, and you’ve just joined the traffic on the M1 motorway to make your journey home after a fucking horrendous day at work. You spent the weekend hitting the booze hard (like Oliver Reed on his birthday hard), and as a result you’re still hanging like a bastard, and the lack of proper sleep has made you cranky and irritable. Your stomach’s rumbling because you stayed in bed this morning until the last possible moment, negating any possibility of you having time to pack your usual sad little cheese sandwich and bag of Seabrook Beefy, and your car’s engine management light has just come on, looking like a bright yellow Xmas illumination against the grey, dreary, grim backdrop of the motorway on such a cold, drizzly night. Continue reading
This isn’t really a proper blog post, but rather an invitation to join our new Facebook group SOBERPUNKS GANG.
The idea is simple – it’s a group aimed solely at people who are either sober, or trying to get sober, and who need a place to connect with other people in the same boat. The group was set up a couple of weeks ago, and we already have over 200 members – with lots of good discussion and debate going on. Lot’s of really REALLY terrible jokes and memes on there too. Continue reading
The office where I work, tucked away on a pleasant little industrial estate in Northampton, is surrounded by natural beauty. The area itself is called ‘The Lakes’, which gives you an idea of what to expect, and one amazing side effect of it’s location is that we get an abundance of wildlife – more than you would ever expect to see so close to busy roads and office buildings. Continue reading
Okay, so last night you REALLY fucked up. You’ve woken up in a bad place – possibly both mentally (oh the paranoia!) and geographically (wtf why am I in a zoo!) – and you’ve finally decided that enough is enough. The booze buzz is more hassle than it’s worth. You’ve ruined too many relationships, wasted too much money, knocked over too many tables, bruised too many knees, and shagged too many mingers. Continue reading
There’s a lot written about the benefits of sobriety. Indeed, I’m personally responsible for contributing towards this ever-growing pile of woolly guff; endless reams of words spewing from laptops all over the world, about how stopping drinking will clear up your spotty skin, and help you lose 5 stone in 3 months, and turn you from debt-ridden scum into a highly respected business magnate overnight. There’s the health benefits, the financial benefits, the brain-sharpening benefits, the depression-killing benefits. Being sober will help you to work harder, to shag better, to live longer, and to look handsomer (it’s a real word, I googled it). People have published books about this shit. They’ve made TV programmes and podcasts. Businesses have been founded, and are now thriving, which focus solely on sharing the good word of sober living. It’s like a magic pill that fixes everything! Everyone in the world of sobriety wants to shout about their new lifestyle, their new look. HEY EVERYONE LOOK AT WHAT SOBRIETY CAN TURN YOU INTO! LOOK AT MY SUITCASE OF MONEY! CHECK OUT MY SOFT HAIR! But let’s not forget, amidst this pink mire of yoga trousers, ultra-marathon runners, and vegan cookbooks, one of the most primal and basic benefits that quitting drinking can bring; the one benefit that is quite often the catalyst for a lifetime of sobriety. That one golden nugget for which we all strive, and which only sobriety can truly bring us…
Okay, full disclosure; it wasn’t a hangover, but holy freakin’ novelty shitballs did it have all the attributes of one: Brain fog, dehydration, jitters, horrible gurgly stomach, daunting paranoia, cold sweats, yep… the works. Oh and I also had somewhere very important to be where I was expected to be well turned out, sparkly eyed, and ON IT like the, er… Wallace and Gromit.
A couple of weeks ago we put our flat on the market. The place is lovely but it’s tiny, and after three years squeezed in alongside a plethora of furry animals we’ve decided it’s time to upsize to a normal person sized house – a decision accelerated in no small part by the fact that our upstairs neighbour is a proper noisy chav twat. His girlfriend is perpetually angry, and sounds like a foghorn whenever she gets peeved (which is always). It’s just not a nice situation, and the golden-boy at the Housing Association, who promised us he could use our complaints and recordings as evidence to begin eviction proceedings, has turned out to be more of a gold-spray-painted boy. A cheap knockoff. All mouth and no trousers. Fucking useless.
A couple of weeks ago I managed to fulfill a lifelong ambition: to visit New York City; touristic centre of the universe, setting for some of the worlds greatest love stories, backdrop to arguably the best movies ever made, subject of a thousand songs, and home to some of the most friendly and colorful characters ever to be squeezed into existence.
Until recently I knew very little of Mark EG:
- He’s a DJ that makes ferociously POUNDING tunes
- He’s from Leeds (oi oi! Up the northerners! Etc…)
- Looks like a fucking possessed nutter behind the decks
In years gone by I’ve occasionally found myself, in various states of inebriation, staggering around dancefloors at his shows whilst dribbling into my pint. This has definitely happened in Leeds, definitely in London, and potentially at a club in Liverpool. I’m not sure why I’ve only seen him in places that start with L. Continue reading