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Blue O Two
I know me t'interweb two point nowt and I want me chuffin' Big Fat Feed of RSS fed to me.
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More Muscle = Less Brain
Under Mornington Pier, no one can hear you scream

As I was so horrified by the state of my beer belly on that last video, I decided to go for a run.

I've never run before except when being chased by something, or the time when my brother made me sprint a mile and a half to Hillsborough in order to miss as little of Wednesday being thrashed as possible. It was minus 5 degrees celsius and it made my knees hurt.

Anyway, it turns out that far from being as unfit as you would expect, I'm actually much worse. If I was in hospital, they'd have to wheel me around on a trolley to reduce the chance of a cardiac event. Not a bad idea actually. Most of our flat is uncarpeted, so the wheels won't get jammed as Marina pushes me about.

The thing is, the day before yesterday, as I steamed through the park at about half the speed an average human walks at, I spotted a possum being entertaining in a tree. "That would've made a great video for the blog", I wheezed to myself anginally, "if only I had my camera". But I didn't, of course, because I was exercising.

Which just goes to prove (scientifically and conclusively) what everyone knew already: the more exercise you get, the less art you're able to involve yourself with.

So, by being healthy, you win for yourself a life that's longer in direct proportion to how much less it's worth living. And it means that instead of an amusing video of a marsupial in a gum tree, you have to put up with a picture of a starfish instead.

I'm off for a beer and four hundred cigarettes.

Adventure Divers La Manga

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog


Here it is kids: my first video blog entry!

I know, the excitement is almost too much to bear. If you're experiencing a tightness across the chest at the moment, it's because the excitement actually is too much to bear and you're having a heart attack. I suggest calling 999 at your earliest convenience.

Obviously, it's generally impossible to isolate paradigms as they develop, but I think we can safely say that this is the turning point of the interweb and life as we know it. In viewing this, I'm sure you will feel like Robert Oppenheimer as he saw the Manhattan Project come to fruition in a giant mushroom cloud, but better because this is clearly more interesting.

And it doesn't end there: I might even shave for the next one.

Nautilus Lifeline
Comments on this post:

Hi Rob!

I just thought I would send you this quick video, not just to prove that it's possible now, because that would be your job and I'm not you, but because I was compelled to by your dramatic sexyness.

Not Rob
Blue O Two

I have bought speakers so was able to hear your commentary. Another waste of £15.

Rob's Mum
Adventure Divers La Manga

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

Stripey Fish

(iPhonoclast version)

Look at that! Forget about the 21st Century, we've jumped straight into the 22nd. I do believe this site is now the most technologically advanced on the entire whirlynet. Nobody has video. Nobody. Except for youtube. And all forms of porn.

And isn't that just a staggeringly exciting feature to open with, eh? Those are called black and white stripey fish and there are at least ten of them in Melbourne. If your browser doesn't display the video properly, you'd probably best just do yourself in.

Doubtless, there'll be thousands of video blogs pouring in from me now. I can tell you about things like how I bought some weights this weekend:

I bought some weights this weekend. Now, when I go diving, I can just use my own weights and not hire any. Because I bought my own, you see.


Diving Chamber Treatment Trust
Comments on this post:

I played the video, absolute magic. Last week when we went to London we visited the Imperial War Museum and I had a go on ship spotting from a sub. You were supposed to be dead accurate as missing an enemy boat could be fatal. Anyway I thought I had seen 6 ships but it seems there were only 5. Have you seen any Sea Dragons? They are so cute.

Rob's Mum, Aged 7 and 3/4
50 Reasons to Hate the French


those fish are just THE BEST. Absolutely freakin AMAZING.

Tht would be my BEST DIVE EVER if i saw that kinda shit.

Off to CROMHALL now to see if i can see my hand this time.

FatSteve from Bristol
Blue O Two

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

PADI for Nurses
Not a nurse but something else.

Yesterday, Marina's hospital gave her a multiple choice medical exam to take home and complete which has almost exactly the same format as the PADI exams.

Typical questions are:

#7. One of your patients is diabetic and was due an insulin dose half an hour before your shift started. Unfortunately there is nothing in their notes to indicate that they have received it. Do you:

a) Assume they have had the dose and move on to the next patient.

b) Assume they haven't had the dose and administer it.

c) Ask someone who knows whether they've had the dose or not, and act accordingly.

d) Attack them with a shovel.

#13. A patient goes into cardiac arrest and the ward doctor instructs you to begin CPR. Do you:

a) Immediately commence Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation.

b) Immediately commence Recycling the patient's Crisp Packets.

c) Immediately commence a shovel attack.

d) Spread your arms out like wings and immediately commence running around the ward whilst making the appropriate aeroplane noises.

I got that one wrong.

Diving Chamber Treatment Trust
Comments on this post:

You forgot Option e).

Start Movie CPR: ie. all wrong so the patient croaks but you really need the bed space.

Tis the truth maan.

Barry Blenkinsop
H2O Dive

In the movies, the patients always revive after approximately eighteen seconds of CPR (twelve seconds on TV because of ad breaks), which goes to show that the nurses in real life (as opposed to TV life) are obviously doing it wrong.

Which means, Barry, we can only assume your theory is correct. But what do they need all these spare beds for? That's where the real conspiracy lies.

e-med Arabic

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

Kitler in her bunker.

We've been looking after a friend's cat for the past few days. For a while I assumed that, as with any cat, her hobbies mostly included just scratching the new couch and depositing fur on every object in the flat. How naive I was.

Having seen the picture on the left, the danger will be immediately apparent to anyone with a passing knowledge of feline fascism.

Her name is Clarabel. "As if that would fool anyone!" I hear you cry. Sadly, I was fooled until it was almost too late.

My suspicions were first aroused when I realised that it's almost impossible to open a cupboard here at the moment without "Clarabel" leaping inside. When she's not in cupboards, she's under things: couches, tables, shelves. "There goes a kitten that loves overhead environments" I exclaimed, simply, foolishly, naively, "She'd make a great wreck diver!" (This isn't true, incidentally: she wouldn't make a good diver at all, because she's a cat, so she'd drown and die).

And then for the past two nights, Marina has been on night duty at the hospital, and so, selflessly and heroically, have I.

Not at the hospital, obviously, but at home, on the laptop.

Anyway, I used to think that at night, cats slept or ate cat food or played with cat toys or had cat sex with other cats or something. But this one spends half of the night with a fat, puffed-up neck and big black eyes, subjecting ornaments and bits of furniture to merciless, unprovoked attacks.

The other half she spends bullying my psyche with her relentless, fascist propaganda: demanding food and water for the master race (cats) and subjecting me to terrible slavery (mostly involving making a fuss of her: if I don't, she miaows relentlessly).

Of course, I should have known it would end like this at the start, as soon as I saw the Kitler moustache.

That and the fact she kept planning reichs.

I told Marina about all this when she returned home this morning but, selfishly, she seemed more interested in banging on about boring work stories involving people coming in with horrific injuries and dying and stuff. I was forced to interrupt: "All the signs are there", I said, "This is what happened in 1938 with Czechoslovakia". I eyed Clarabel suspiciously. Marina tickled her on the chin. Then she told me to shut up and went to bed.

It's Poland I feel sorry for.


For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

Getting a Semi On
Seahorse contemplates zip repair.

Marina bought a BCD and semi-dry wetsuit last weekend, which leaves me on the horns of a shocking dilemma. You can look at the pretty picture of the seahorse whilst you think about it.

The BCD is awesome, but so is mine, so I can handle that. Unfortunately, the semi-dry is also awesome and it was underneath Rye Pier last Sunday that my drysuit was clearly inspired to fulfil its own ambitions and became a semi-dry itself. It's been threatening to ever since I hauled it, battered and crushed from the shipping crate. The problem is it's the zip that's gone, so I'm looking at a AU$500 repair bill.

A fantastic semi-dry along the lines of Marina's will set me back AU$850 and will sneak me back into the lead in the battle of "who has the best gear" because my regs are superior, and will remain that way for at least another two months until they break as well.

What do I do? I'm not a tight person, except when it comes to spending money, so any advice would be appreciated. So that you have all the information required to make an informed decision on my behalf, I can tell you that the drysuit is a membrane design and now goes under the name "the thing with the bastard zip". The water temperature is f***ing cold, or 12 to 13°C. And the seahorse is yellow.

Diving Chamber Treatment Trust
Comments on this post:
Rob, yesterday

Re Marina's "semi-dry wetsuit". I hope she kept the receipt.

A diver cannot have a girlfriend called Marina unless he is Captain Troy Tempest. Are you Captain Troy Tempest? No.

Actually I spoke to a postman the other day called Roy Mayall. This is 100% true.

H2O Dive

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

Ronaldo Must Die
Not a koala

OK, so further to the last blog, it appears there is no such thing as an underwater giraffe. Marina pointed this out to me in words of mostly one syllable and four letters, after our second dive of last weekend.

Or, at least, I think that's what she was trying to say. She was once again wearing what might have doubled as a flimsy cocktail dress for exposure protection and her teeth were chattering too much for anything really intelligible to be heard. Tiring of this, I was forced to interrupt her in order to complain about the serious issue I was having with a leaky drysuit which had rendered my right arm slightly damp. A brief silence of one or two days ensued.

The saddest news item this week revolves around the subject of addiction, I'm afraid to say. It's something that ruins the lives of the addicted and those around them, and whilst it probably shouldn't play a part in what ought to be a light-hearted blog, I can't help but mention the events here that have touched, and threaten to destroy, my own life.

Last Friday, I downloaded a football management game from 2008 onto my mobile phone and I can't stop playing it. It's got to the point that I claim to be going outside for a cigarette, but manage the fortunes of Sunderland Athletic instead as this, tellingly, now incurs less retribution from Marina. I often have to light up, whilst not actually smoking, in order to make the ploy convincing.

Oh, before you ask: there was no option to take the Mighty Wednesday on to mightier things. This is probably because a) everyone would do it and so many of the game's hidden features would therefore remain hidden; or b) it's not possible and trying to do so could create universe-ending paradoxes in the fabric of space-time, or at the very least be unrealistic. Anyway, apart from that obvious point, the only change I would request from the makers for the next version would be the inclusion of the following commentary line when you play M** U****d: "Cristiano Ronaldo has the ball... He's been fouled by Rob! Cristiano Ronaldo has actually snapped in half and Rob is urinating on him as he bleeds to death on the pitch. And the fans are laughing! Everyone is laughing! Even Ronaldo's own family and everyone that has ever known him are laughing as he slowly dies. And his hair looks crap too."

I look forward to hearing from Jonathan on this issue. I bet he still spends his weekends playing football manager as well.

There is good news though: koalas have been taken off the CITES "never-existed-and-anyone-that-claims-to-have-seen-one-is-making-it-up" list and put onto the "actual-real-animals-list" because I saw one this weekend. Sadly, the former list is still large and contains, amongst other things, such wonderful yet sadly mythical creatures as the whale shark, the killer whale (in fact anything with the word "whale" in its name), and the badger. But koalas are sure to be as pleased as bullsharks were a few weeks ago.

I would have posted a picture, but having gone through them, it would expose my photography skills for the shallow sham that they are. Instead, you have a wonderful view of the underside of Mornington pier: in my opinion, one of Melbourne's best dives. In Marina's opinion also, since the other dive we tried was very much like the Wraysbury-esque one of the previous weekend but with worse visibility.

I can't say I really noticed though, to be honest. I was too involved in weighing up the merits of an attacking 3-5-2 formation against a nice solid 4-4-2. Time wasted, as it turns out, because M** U****d beat you 4-0 either way.

Dive Worldwide PNG
Comments on this post:
A koala.  No, honest, it is.

Well, shocking photography skills didn't stop me with the bullshark...

London and Midlands Diving Chambers


which is harder..a koala or a sloth.

I reckon the koala has more speed, but the sloth's reach and claws give it the edge... if it were cage fighting, that is.

Monkey Allan
Blue O Two

That's an important question, Monkey, and I think I'd go with the sloth since koalas are usually stoned. Sloths just pretend to be wasted and then let rip with those claws when you least expect it: drunken master style.

People say it's cruel to put animals in cages, but how else are we to get them to hit each other?

Adventure Divers La Manga

Hi Rob, and thanks for inviting me on the show. It's great that you have been looking forward to hearing me talk about Football Manager, as most people who hear me talk about Football Manager look forward to me stopping. Or someone filling their ears with molten uranium, whichever comes first.

And as for suggesting that I spend my "weekends" playing. Naive boy! I have been known to take my laptop to work with me.

Anyway must go. The demo of FM2010 has just been released.

e-med Arabic

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

Best Dive, Worst Dive
The Average Visibility on Last Sunday's Dive

I haven't written anything in this blog for ages. Is it because:

a) I was abducted by incredibly hot lesbians who sexually molested me for three weeks, forcing me to perform unspeakable acts now available on DVD from all good Soho stores?


b) I forgot?

Answers on a postcard please. The DVD is very reasonably priced.

So, last week I went to watch the sinking of the ex-HMAS Canberra down by the sea (the sea is traditionally believed by many to be an excellent place for wreck-sinking). It was delayed for quite a while which meant lots of sitting around watching news crews helicopter about. Fortunately, they left after a while, at which point the actual sinking happened. Unfortunately, this meant our planned shore dive was delayed.

I say unfortunately because, this being Marina's first dive in cold water, I had rather "bigged it up"*. It has been suggested by some sources (one in particular) that during this particular spree of "bigging", I claimed that the diving in Melbourne was "nothing short of spectacular", that it was "far, far superior" to the "overhyped twaddle" offered by the Great Barrier Reef and that "I actually feel sorry" for anyone who doesn't get to dive here at some point because "when they die their entire life will have been pointless". I won't make that mistake again.

Those with a bent towards the science of psychology might fear at this point that I may have raised Marina's expectations a little too high and, as we entered the water at exactly the wrong time of day for the tide, I began to picture myself imminently concurring with this point of view.

Luckily, I was wrong: the dive was awesome.

OK, in order to illustrate the magnitude of lie contained within that last sentence, the picture at the top of this post is an accurate representation of the visibility we encountered during those 25 long minutes. I have no way to illustrate the cold, but I don't need to because I was nice and snug in my drysuit. One can only imagine how chilly Marina was in an ill-fitting wetsuit and invisible hood in 13 degree water, but to give you a clue she described it as "the coldest I have ever been in my entire life and that includes when I went to Finland for Christmas and got locked out of the lodge for an hour in a blizzard without a coat".

I recorded a maximum depth of 4.6 metres. I believe this was when the surge threw me into some rocks and my computer-wearing wrist was thrust into the peculiarly abrasive sand. All in all, it was worse than Wraysbury. To be honest, I'd prefer to dive on the Great Barrier Reef.

But luckily for you chaps, we're giving it another go on Saturday. This time it's a tried and trusted site, that I personally know to be so good it has even made blind people weep and features, amongst other life, underwater giraffes and a wizard who makes any wish come true if you let him use your torch for five minutes.

I'll let you know how it goes.

*For those who aren't hip enough to know, "bigged up" is a word the cool kids are using these days and roughly translates as "hyped". In this case it means "hyped out of all proportion" and required lengthy apologies for the following four days.

50 Reasons to Hate the French

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

Brad borrowing my drysuit

The entire nation will doubtless be relieved to learn that my drysuit has finally arrived, so who knows, maybe Iíll actually do some diving. Stranger things have happened. (Thatís a joke, of course: they havenít.)

Perhaps even more edifying for me was the arrival of my puffer jacket. Iíve been coatless until now as I threw away my other jacket in Madrid this summer because it was very hot at that particular moment and therefore I didnít need it. Looking back, Iím reminded of the best wetsuit I ever owned, which still resides at the top of a mountain in Nicaragua where I dumped it because there wasnít any water around. Incredibly, it seems it wouldíve come in useful a while later when I did some warm water diving again in tíEgypt, but I didnít have it so I had to buy a new one.

In any case, I believe it was at the exact moment that I donned said puffer jacket that warms winds started to blow in from the north and the temperature changed instantly from 8˚C to to a sweltering 25˚C+. Luckily, I still have some t-shirts that Marina didnít let me throw away because it was too cold to wear them. And we have a fridge to keep food cold in, which amazingly has come in handy. I had argued vehemently against buying one because I wasnít hungry, but for some reason changed my mind when Marina asked me again a few hours later.

Dive Worldwide PNG
Comments on this post:

In primary school they asked if I wanted to learn to read and write. I replied "no", because Rob hadn't written any blogs yet.

That is why I neither read the above post nor wrote this comment.

H2O Dive

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

Ca'an The Doggies!
A black cockatoo for Ed, who likes that sort of thing

I attended an Australian Rules Footballing game at the MCG on Saturday. This was a very different experience to the type of football I'm used to, not so much for the entertaining mayhem on the pitch but more due to the disappointing cultural differences. Specifically the lack of culture that the antipods are generally accused of.

This became immediately apparent on the short train journey to the ground. All the carriages were packed with "footy" fans. Normally one would expect said fans to be bellowing something along the lines of "Come on in and drink with us, We'll drink you to a frenzy, We all come come from Sheffield, And we are Sheffield Wednesday, Na na nana na na na etc." to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy, but these Aussie types showed a marked lack of refinement by simply talking quietly amongst themselves instead.

Secondly, and even more worryingly, there were fans of both teams on the same train and yet there were none of the incitements to violence that the cultured man would expect.

Thirdly, and most troubling of all, they were all sober. I can honestly say I didn't see a single man, woman or child urinate into a beer bottle.


Anyway, the game was good and both Giant Bearded Scotsman (GBS) and I did our very best to make up for the generally disappointing levels of alcohol consumption that were to be seen throughout. And then luckily, at the end, we were made to feel properly at home as a young fan of the losing team (our team also) saw fit to apply a judicious Glasgow kiss to the nasal region of one of the security guards. This caused quite some consternation amongst the other spectators who, incredibly, aren't used to seeing this type of thing at sporting events. Best of all, after this quick scuffle which GBS and I, to be honest, barely noticed even though it was actually occurring at our feet, the securitons broke out the pepper spray. I've never seen it employed before but judging by the reaction of the man who received a face-full, I'd say it might sting a tad. Fortunately, the Brits were there to keep a level head and GBS continued to keep the offending young man (by now pinned to the floor in a painful-looking half-nelson) updated by cheerfully informing him at 30 second intervals that his team were still losing.

In other news, Marina and I have our own lodgings. I imagine this will be particularly useful next time I get incredibly drunk during and after an Aussie Rules game and fall asleep on the train home, winding up somewhere unpronounceable in the state of Victoria. Not that the flat will be useful per se, just that when I finally do get home, I won't have to worry about waking any military parents as I stagger around an incredibly expensively furnished home in the darkness, whilst struggling to keep bodily fluids properly internalised and trying to remember not to sing.

Instead, I can stagger through the front door, slam into some electrical appliance (which Marina persuaded me to spend a fortune on), trip straight over the IKEA couch (which Marina persuaded me to spend a fortune on), stand on the Wireless Router (which I persuaded Marina to spend a fortune on and which doesn't work, which is why I'm writing this in the public library) on the way to the 2nd floor balcony where I can shout lurid greetings to the possums that congregate around the trees outside.

Get in!

Adventure Divers La Manga
Comments on this post:

You just wrote an entire blog post about football and didn't manage to shoehorn in even one tiny pun about diving. What's wrong with you?

H2O Dive

For an even better blog than this... Read the Battersea Blog

I know me t'interweb two point nowt and I want me chuffin' Big Fat Feed of RSS fed to me.
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