Category Archives: My life and I

The Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, Awesome? Great memories? …Terrible?!

Now i understand, what I find entertaining is strange and alienating to my elders, and one day I may have children of my own with interests that scare and confuse me. Until recently I could accept that as the way life goes, but after spending twenty minutes watching the very first episode of the first series of Power Rangers with my younger brother, showing him the beginning, where some of his favourite shows all started, I have to draw the line. The only word he said, as we watched the five Rangers kicking ass,  as we watched The Zords joining together, creating The MegaZord to save the day, the only word my brat of a brother said was: Terrible. That’s right dear reader, the show I remember from my childhood as being amazing, the show that led to the modern day Power Rangers (which my brother enjoys) is terrible.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who still looks on that time in my childhood with joy, that other people still recognise the titan of children’s entertainment that is the very first series:

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers


I even remember dressing up as the green one (Tommy – My favourite) for a birthday when I was around the same age my brother is now. Tommy, the green ranger is the reason I started thinking about the whole show, as I recently found out that not only was he the green ranger and later the white ranger, he has also been in later series’ as the black ranger, the red ranger and a mentor to the whole group. To top all this off, as if this man wasn’t already a hero in my inner-kid’s eyes he went on to use the skills learnt as a Power Ranger and implement them into being an MMA fighter, he should be proud!

To end with, I thought I’d share some real nostalgia with you all, just click play, enjoy and smile!

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Family, Chocolate and Growing up.

My Nan is one of the greatest people ever, incredibly kind and loving, you’d be lucky to meet her. Bear in mind that if you offended her, she would waste little time in kicking you in the arse, but that’s all part and parcel of my brilliant Nan.

Northern Irish and proud, she enjoys a little whiskey on an evening and always has time for me. If you forget the whiskey and birthplace, and add a partiality to bonbons and a fiercely-protective-of-family trait,  this sums up my Mum (…Daughter to my Nan…). I remember many things from my childhood, such as she always had a mars bar in her handbag for me, an entire draw was saved, just for me, and filled to the brim with every sweet imaginable. I was throwing up rainbows quite often as a child, I was also carrying around a slight bit of chub due to my seven or eight sweet teeth. I realise I am speaking in past tense but all of these things are still true now, the sweet drawer is going strong, my Nans bag is weighed down with chocolate ( she can take it though, don’t worry, do NOT mess with my Nan, she is lovely, sweet and awesome, but she will destroy you. On a related side note about 7 years ago I had a pretend scuffle with my Mum, joking and wrestling, all fun and games you might think. Wrong. I ended up locking myself in the bathroom out of sheer terror. I knew she would never actually hurt me, but my young mind knew enough not to test my chances in a one-on one. Women in my family are tough. ANYWAY! )and I’m not ashamed to say I still probably have that slight bit of chub. That’s just me ( It doesn’t matter if you carry a few extra pounds with a face like mine anyway ….( How I wish this were true ) ).

One very clear memory I have, which actually happened a few times is of a very young me, having a nightmare. I remember two that showed up often, one I can look back on and realise how silly a kid I was being. The other… terrifies me still to this day, and the worst part is I’m sure i got it from a film i shouldn’t have watched at such an innocent age, and if I could just find that film, then I would be free. From the torment, the agony of knowing the hold these horrors have over me and the simple annoyance that finding the film would prove that I happened upon a horror flick sometime as a child, at the same time as disproving that i was so messed up my young should-be-nothing-but-happy-thoughts mind created this horrible image to simply mess with itself. (breathe.)

The nightmare was of maybe fifteen, give or take a few, little me’s running, to a house, whilst these creatures I can barely describe ( so I won’t ) swoop in to eat me. All of the little Toms enter the house and melt, coming together into one life-sized me. I walk up to a stand where there are three books, I open the first and a face of paper and text screams at me , so I shut it quickly, moving on whilst the muffled screeches continue. I open the second and words come out, whirling around me, creating a thick fog that closes in. Keeps closing in, until I can’t see, can’t breathe. That’s when I wake up, terrified. Now, I can agree with you that this isn’t the scariest imagery in the world, it isn’t. However, to the young Thomas it was. So I awoke scared out of my wits, many times, and the clear memories I have are of my Mum and my Nan, on separate occasions, coming to my room, calming me down, giving me a glass of water and saying the following:

“It’s okay Thomas, don’t worry, it was just a dream and it’s over now. When you go back to sleep just think about Tom and Jerry ( every kids favourite cartoon at the time ) and you’ll have a nice dream” There was more but that is the gist, so i would do as instructed and BANG! no more nightmares. This is easily the best advice I have ever received, if you have children of you’re own then I implore you to use this tactic, it is a godsend. Use whoever you want, i think The Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers also worked for me, but seriously this WILL HELP. I have had the nightmare since, for some reason it doesn’t want to be out of my subconscious just yet. However it no longer has quite the same effect, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know.

To end with, I would like to initiate stage one of my pocket-watch campaign. For any new readers, this campaign started when my Mum bought me a silver pocket watch for my birthday. I now love it. I’m trying to bring it back, but I need your help. I can’t do this alone and that is why stage one is awareness. Tell your family, your friends, everyone, about this campaign. We need everyone to remember this classic piece of kit.

Thanks for reading and as always, smile!

P.S. If anyone recognises the scene I described, from any film they have seen, please tell me, I don’t need to know to save my sanity, just to aid my curiosity! Then smile!

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Me? A blogger? Never.

I never planned on being a blogger – one who blogs. If i’m being honest i always thought of it as a geeky little hobby. This probably just shows how small minded i may have been at times. The reason i started was because my tutor at university mentioned them as making one was a small part of an assignment. After this, he said that carrying one on would be a great way to hopefully improve my writing, my ability to take criticism and use it, and more importantly make me think in different ways on different subjects.

I’d like to think i’m accomplishing these goals. My skill in writing may not have increased massively, but i think small improvements have occurred. Alas, despite numerous attempts and long periods of waiting, i have yet to receive any criticism, constructive or not. Nevertheless, i will keep waiting for that one brave soul who will step forward and point out my weaknesses, rip me to shreds and break me down to blubbering little pieces, so i can improve.

The one area i am rather proud of is when it comes to thinking of things to write on, yes, some of them are very weak and have little to no sustenance, but i do have around 15 drafts written at any one time, each being worked on, ideas coming to me at random times, so often that i save them in draft texts on my phone, to be typed up later. I think just sitting and thinking of something which you can impart your opinion from the vast vortex of everything-ness is quite difficult, but once you find a small splinter of an idea the rest comes rolling in. It may not always make perfect sense to others, or be appealing reading material to anyone but myself just yet. I’m hoping that once i gain a certain amount of skill in thinking of ideas i can put the interesting slant on my posts that will hopefully bring the readers in, and keep you around, dear reader.

On a possibly more interesting note, my campaign to bring back the pocket watch is nearing the end of its planning stages and i plan on releasing the details of how i plan to do this soon. I’m sure you are simple riveted by this so subscribe, keep reading and smile!

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…as my family call me.

Yes, Dear reader, the rumors are true. I am back, after an overly brief absence due to manic deadline-related times.

(Before i continue, you may notice the lack of an “S” on reader, this is because I am not conceited enough to believe that more than one person reads this BLOGSTROCITY ( BLOG + MONSTROSITY ) but if you do exist dear reader, and i really mean dear, thank you. We are now best friends and you invited for tea whenever you choose. On with the show)

Much has happened during this reprisal. The unthinkable. I turned 20. I was warned this would happen from day 1, but i always shrugged it off as one would when told to be good or the boogeyman will come. Alas, unlike the boogeyman, this was true. No more will people say of me, “what’s Tom up to these days? oh he’s at uni, he’s not sure what to do with his life yet, he’s only a TEENAGER.”



…. TEENAGER. No the above line, said with such fondness, reminiscent of someone speaking of an old friend, will never be (truthfully) spoken again. Instead it will be replaced with “Tom? oh….he’s at uni, he’s ..erm…not sure what he wants to do with his life and HE’S IN HIS F#@£%$! TWENTIES” The old, cheery tone too has left with my teenage years, to be replaced with one of embarrassment, of resentment and of disgust. This will no doubt lead to me being called “Gramps”, my family and friends disowning me because i’m too inconvenient to be seen with. As my life unravels i will no doubt console myself with alcohol, as so many in that position do. When the rubble that my life will become starts to circle the drain, and i look for that hand to hold through the hardest of times, i will find nothing. No warm comforting hand. If i can still afford it at this, my all time low, the only thing i will find will be the cold, hard, unloving glass of that last drink, and for that i will be grateful, as my pain is numbed and i shall leave this harsh, unforgiving world, with the smallest of smiles on my lips…

This is all just estimations and guesses of course, admittedly very, very dark ones. As you and i move on, i shall leave you with this last piece of advice.

Do Everything In Your Power To Stay Nineteen Forever.

My other big news is much more enjoyable but much smaller. I have received the greatest gift in the world. Something every gentleman should own, a Pocket Watch. Thus i can tell time and…

I am also now beginning my fierce campaign to bring the pocket watch back to the height of fashion.

Thank you, and Smile!

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“That awkward moment…”

Obviously a great build up for any joke but in this case there is nothing amusing about the punchline. It is twenty two minutes past four in the morning as i write and i have been trying to sleep for the best part of two hours now. I lay here, making plans for tomorrow i know full well i will never do. I even began planning out my essay on the news in my head, knowing all my great ideas will be forgotten come morning time. I considered getting a sandwhich, despite not being hungry in the slightest. Or maybe i should read for a bit, or play some fifa. Alas, dear reader, i’m too tired to fully soak in what i’m reading, resulting in the going over the same paragraph five times and still having no idea who is doing what, and as for fifa, at this late hour my usually dexterous skills are failing me. Woe is me, the night is silent because all the SMART PEOPLE are tucked comfy in bed, snoring away in their bliss, having no idea what torment i suffer, and what lucky bastards they truly are. I have no doubt you are one of these ignorant many, and for that i hate you dear reader. But then, you read this far, so for that i love you. It’s a conundrum, a true catch twenty two if ever there were such a thing. I do believe this is drivel of the highest degree, but it shall be posted anyway, not because my insomnia must be known, or because my writing skills are a wonder to the world and to not share them would be a travesty. But because that’s how i roll. I realise not a whole lot has been said, but what more is there to say.


So, to summarise.

  4. I HATE YOU.
  5. I LOVE YOU.
  6. I SLEPT.
  7. I WOKE UP.
And here we are.
   8. SMILE!


Being as my surname was originally Mccourt, the more intelligent of you can surmise that I have some Scottish heritage. I’m quite proud of this, as i’m sure are most Scots. I imagine this fiery bloodline is what leads to my temper, which i can honestly say is not overly lengthy, again this is something i am strangely proud of. I can admit it’s a major fault of mine but still, i wouldn’t be me without it.  

The reason I’ve been thinking about Scotland is all this chitter-chatter about Scotland becoming Independent from the UK, so escaping England really, let’s not beat around the bush. From the word “GO” Scotland has been desperate to show it is different to England, don’t get me wrong, some amazing things have come from Scotland, first and foremost, the best thing to ever happen to male fashion. The Kilt. Since the 16th century men in Scotland have been sporting this ingenious garment, which not only marked them as being at the height of that years hot-list, but also served to tell fellow Scotsmen their personal clan and heritage. Thus avoiding the whole:


“Hi, I’m Andrew, where are you from?”

….And you get the idea there, now it’s as simple as “OH, green background, navy stripes, you’re the Forbes Clan. I don’t like you” AND it’s straight to the fighting! No need for this awkward chatting. 

Anyway, back to the point. Scotland isn’t England’s biggest fan. Long trousers – kilts, small black socks – long white socks, English pound – Scottish pound, and you get the gist. They long to be different from us. 

I don’t make any pretence of being an expert on the subject, but i can’t imagine how much Scotland being seperate would affect us here in England. Would Scottish imports of deep fried mars bars and tunnock’s teacakes grind to a halt? Would the word “legal Tender”(obviously invented by the Scottish) fall out of use as you wouldn’t have to worry about using that Scottish fifty pound note at the till? Would a large, ridiculously deep trench be dug at the border between England and the Highlands so that eventually Scotland could drift off and forget all ties with Britain? Probably not, but still. 

I know the political ramifications are quite large, but we won’t get in to that. Scottish tendencies can be found everywhere, even if you don’t stop long enough to realise. “Auld Lang Syne” was written by the great man and poet Robert Burns and it’s now sung world-wide on new years eve. Sherlock Holmes is a character created by a Scott, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. And many other great people, ranging from surgeons to architects and pioneers to inventors! Including Sir Alex Ferguson, albeit he is no great leader of the times, but you can’t say he is one of the most brilliant managers of the last 2 decades. All that silverware didn’t just fall on his lap. 

Well dear reader, thank you for taking the time to look this. You’ve been great.

As always, Smile.