Thursday evening saw the publication in the Gazette of yet another stunning portrait of Wyre Archaeology's perfectly honed, chisel-jawed hunk (i.e. Yours truly), adding to the collection of 'Hughes' pin-ups now adorning the walls of female archaeology students the length of Britain. (What do you mean, I look like a muppet that's been in a fight with a blow torch? And no...it's that prop-coat they forced me to wear that makes me look fat! Honest!)
I really should apologise to Gary Thornton before we get to the actual article, for dragging him out of bed at such an ungodly hour on Wednesday morning, complete with his metal detector, only to have his photograph (not to mention Michelle's) dropped from the article. The original brief was to round up as many members of Wyre Archaeology as possible for a collective photograph. Unfortunately there were no photographers available for the meeting on Wednesday night due to a suddenly contagious outburst of 'I've just remembered the cup final's on telly'. As time was short (and my increasingly disturbing telephone bill looming) it was only a small contingent that turned up in Fleetwood for the occasion. Obviously, once the Evening Gazette realised that I was the true superstar of the trio and that my fine bone structure would be perfectly suited to help sell more newspapers, they dropped Gary and Michelle and concentrated solely on me instead.
I was particularly intrigued by the on-line version of this article, which ran my photograph alongside Harison Ford's with the caption: "Spot the difference."
"Sir, I know the answer to that one, Sir. About thirty years in age, four face lifts and a twenty million quid a year pay packet."
Anyhow, cheers to Tom Halstead and Robert Lock for once again providing Wyre Archaeology with much needed publicity. And cheers also to Carol who assaulted me on the telephone on Thursday afternoon with fifteen minutes of uncontrollable laughter.
Media whore? Me? Never!
(Incidentally, if you want to read the actual words and/or see that photograph again at an altogether larger and more frightening size, just click on the image above.)
I really should apologise to Gary Thornton before we get to the actual article, for dragging him out of bed at such an ungodly hour on Wednesday morning, complete with his metal detector, only to have his photograph (not to mention Michelle's) dropped from the article. The original brief was to round up as many members of Wyre Archaeology as possible for a collective photograph. Unfortunately there were no photographers available for the meeting on Wednesday night due to a suddenly contagious outburst of 'I've just remembered the cup final's on telly'. As time was short (and my increasingly disturbing telephone bill looming) it was only a small contingent that turned up in Fleetwood for the occasion. Obviously, once the Evening Gazette realised that I was the true superstar of the trio and that my fine bone structure would be perfectly suited to help sell more newspapers, they dropped Gary and Michelle and concentrated solely on me instead.
I was particularly intrigued by the on-line version of this article, which ran my photograph alongside Harison Ford's with the caption: "Spot the difference."
"Sir, I know the answer to that one, Sir. About thirty years in age, four face lifts and a twenty million quid a year pay packet."
Anyhow, cheers to Tom Halstead and Robert Lock for once again providing Wyre Archaeology with much needed publicity. And cheers also to Carol who assaulted me on the telephone on Thursday afternoon with fifteen minutes of uncontrollable laughter.
Media whore? Me? Never!
(Incidentally, if you want to read the actual words and/or see that photograph again at an altogether larger and more frightening size, just click on the image above.)
21 comments:
Great article, hope it generates a few more coins into the coffers!
What, you mean you don't get chased by large crushing balls when out digging in a field?!
Who'd have thunk it!
A suspicious character lurking in a field near you. Btw, have you been wading in the Irish Sea yet?
Jayne,
I've been licked on the back of the head by curious cows from time to time. Indiana Jones doesn't realise how easy he's got it.
Andrew,
You don't go wading in the Irish Sea. You have to break through the crust first.
Oh dear, just found this recent Aussie article online -
http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/archaeologists-see-bright-future-in-ruins/2008/05/21/1211182895796.html
Can you match this archaeologist's claim to danger, Brian?
PMSL
They're not curious Brian , they're grooming you :P
Jayne,
Can't match his claim to danger. Can't even read the article. You'll have to break the address down into sections first.
Sorry.
Here's the bit-
HAVING run from a giant boulder, been lowered into molten lava and dodged poison blow-darts, Indiana Jones is in an archaeological league of his own.
But local archaeologist Catherine Tucker can claim to have encountered snakes while digging around Melbourne paddocks and mine shafts. And she has been bitten by savage bull ants, stepped over dead rats and a few days ago, in Craigieburn, a frog hopped on her chest.
Scary stuff!! :P
Savage ants, dead rats and a frog? Hah! I tweak the nose of such risible danger. Until they've come face to face with a Pilling sheep or been chased from a field in Nateby by an over-friendly bull these mediocre archaeologist types will never know the true meaning of fear.
I find the resemblance uncanny!
I'm sure the real question we all want to ask is: When do the action figures come out?
Saving my pence, JOHN :0)
John,
The action figures have been put on hold until Mattel can buy up a few tanker-loads of modelling clay.
Pffft, well we know what accessories will be available for yours Brian - not whips, but the infamous fear inducing (drum roll)....Bacon Butty!
Which doesn't necessarily make you immune to an overly-friendly bull or Pilling sheep, apparently :P
Jayne,
If anything it'd probably encourage them to chase me through the thistles.
You're out of uniform for a start.
Where's the feather in the hat?
Where's the indecent shorts?
Where's the striped jumper?
I misread that reply to Jayne, I thought you said you'd been kicked on the back of the head by curious cows and, nodding wisely, said "Well that explains a lot!"
Witchy,
My real archaeology hat (as opposed to the one in the photograph, which is actually Michelle's and which I was asked to wear, presumably because it's more like Indiana Jones's than my own stockman's hat is) does have a couple of pheasant feathers in it. However, unlike Mr. Harding, I refuse to wear shorts up my crack and unlike Mr. Aston, I wouldn't be caught dead in a Giles Brandreth type sweater.
As for being kicked by the cows, it could have been worse. I was expecting a comment about being dragged around by the bullocks.
I remember a photo like that in the News of The World in the 1970s - it was Alex Sanders "King of the Witches". I thought I hadn't heard of him for a while!!
hehehehhehehheh ahem !
Nick,
I had to look Alex Sanders up on Google. (I'm not old enough to remember the 70s. Or the 80s and 90s come to that matter.) I'll have you know I've got a full head of hair under that hat and I've never set fire to Edward Woodwood in a huge wicker man in my life. Well...maybe once when I was young.
Joolz,
Sounds like you might have a bit of your fish and chip supper stuck in your throat there.
So was it on page 3?
Bella,
Somewhat bizarrely (and I kid you not) it was on page 3. Samantha Fox, however, didn't show up for the photoshoot...so that was good.
Dear Hughsie, You are far superior to Indy.
I saw, yesterday in town and in the company of a blogger pal late of Hackney, the film of Indiana Jones and The Lost Superannuation
(she has that TM'd )
and Indy said "nuCULar"
you wouldn't do that.
"Dear Hughsie, You are far superior to Indy."
Annie,
You are, of course, correct.
And no, I'd never 'Nucular', or 'Aloominum' or wantonly destroy an ancient temple without taking a topographical survey, filling in context sheets, and ensuring that all the records for future reference had been completed first.
Post a Comment