The Monday Night Group now have a shiny new website.
It was launched with a nice presentation - which I missed - in a swanky bar in Manchester. Then everyone ran off to the usual (cheap) pub and then some of us lasted long enough for silly dancing in the Fab Cafe.
Nice to know they've actually finished it, though at great cost to the sanity of those involved :)
Showing posts with label MNG. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MNG. Show all posts
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
Tuesday, 25 September 2007
Kinky Ninja Spy Giraffes
The Monday Night Group are relaunching their website. Rousie set them the task of coming up with some good quotes, to draw people in.
I remember the last time this happened.
Twenty-odd drunks at varying stages of talent and inebriation, loads of daft ideas, and some of them printable.
Last night? This time, only five were present. Tumbleweed silence, as they realised that only printable and ad-agency ready soundbites would do.
To break the silence, Mike recounted a story from another MiNGe member, who attends a group who keep folk tales and urban myths alive. They also use it as an excuse to tell lame jokes. The punchline was delivered, and someone seemed surprised that he hadn't altered it. The phrase "kinky ninja spy giraffe" was definitely uttered.
Ros came up with a corker! "Last time she had a dinner party with the warlords, something was said and there were tanks on the lawn, next morning."
But she is off to the Ivory Coast next week, so it was an observation about something else entirely. But she did say it as part of the MNG, on MNG-pub time, so surely it's acceptable?
And besides, it is only a matter of time before someone here has a tank on the lawn. Amazing what an anorak can find on eBay.
They struggled on, it's hell having to turn into instant copy writers (they assured me; I carried on drinking and trying to look supportive) but they only scored 3/10 from Rousie.
I added "I only came back to find out what happened to the kinky ninja spy giraffe."
And left.
I remember the last time this happened.
Twenty-odd drunks at varying stages of talent and inebriation, loads of daft ideas, and some of them printable.
Last night? This time, only five were present. Tumbleweed silence, as they realised that only printable and ad-agency ready soundbites would do.
To break the silence, Mike recounted a story from another MiNGe member, who attends a group who keep folk tales and urban myths alive. They also use it as an excuse to tell lame jokes. The punchline was delivered, and someone seemed surprised that he hadn't altered it. The phrase "kinky ninja spy giraffe" was definitely uttered.
Ros came up with a corker! "Last time she had a dinner party with the warlords, something was said and there were tanks on the lawn, next morning."
But she is off to the Ivory Coast next week, so it was an observation about something else entirely. But she did say it as part of the MNG, on MNG-pub time, so surely it's acceptable?
And besides, it is only a matter of time before someone here has a tank on the lawn. Amazing what an anorak can find on eBay.
They struggled on, it's hell having to turn into instant copy writers (they assured me; I carried on drinking and trying to look supportive) but they only scored 3/10 from Rousie.
I added "I only came back to find out what happened to the kinky ninja spy giraffe."
And left.
Thursday, 9 August 2007
"Wouldn't it be nice, to get on wiv me neighbours..."
On Monday the Monday Night Group (clue's in the name) got together to write, drink beer and talk rubbish. Several ex-writers and their drinking support team ducked the writing bit and went straight to the pub. As usual, we warmed up with "What've you been up to?", before heading for the stupid stuff. Even trained professionals need to warm up.
My mate Paul and I were comparing Sunday evening. I had visited my brother, Paul had spent a quiet night at home. I was describing the Sunday night cat-fight at my brother's house. Paul knows all about the Reservoir Mogs and their sidekicks (Southern Chapter and the Salford posse). The Salford Posse belong to my brother - Red, Blue and Pumphrey and they are suffering. Next door have acquired a kitten (young Shadow) and he is trying to take over the garden. Red is staying out of the scrap, Blue is fighting her corner in a real death-or-glory struggle, and Pumphrey is just heading for a nervous breakdown. Blue can't really fight for long, so she saved her energy for a short but spectacular attack, spoilt only by the fact that Shadow danced off, oblivious, to chase a squirrel.
Paul's verdict? "Put a Pink Floyd soundtrack on that, and you've still got more action than a whole series of Heartbeat."
My mate Paul and I were comparing Sunday evening. I had visited my brother, Paul had spent a quiet night at home. I was describing the Sunday night cat-fight at my brother's house. Paul knows all about the Reservoir Mogs and their sidekicks (Southern Chapter and the Salford posse). The Salford Posse belong to my brother - Red, Blue and Pumphrey and they are suffering. Next door have acquired a kitten (young Shadow) and he is trying to take over the garden. Red is staying out of the scrap, Blue is fighting her corner in a real death-or-glory struggle, and Pumphrey is just heading for a nervous breakdown. Blue can't really fight for long, so she saved her energy for a short but spectacular attack, spoilt only by the fact that Shadow danced off, oblivious, to chase a squirrel.
Paul's verdict? "Put a Pink Floyd soundtrack on that, and you've still got more action than a whole series of Heartbeat."
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