Crankmeister has a sorry tail to tell about his fr!gging toe nails. Common problem in the ole crank-scene getting fungus under your nailies. And it has finally got me, crank-lovers. It started like it was just a bit of dirt or something, and now whatever is living in my Evolutions has made four nails look like they are 100% bird sh!t. Gets worse and worse. After some discussion, the lads and me decide said Evolutions got to be inincerated, which was like hearing I have to sell my alloy wheel hubs or something. Then some girlie at the wall overheard me talking about it, and she just piped up that there was this nail varnish right, that doesn’t look like it but will cover up all manner of. The others thought it was effing hilarious, but it started nagging away at me. So I googled and found some stuff and thank Christ it came in one of those unmarked packets they usually put my porn in. Anyway, I painted it on, and it didn’t look too bad at first. Sort of dull and blank. But I reckoned I’d better to a coat on all of them otherwise I’d have one wierd toe. Wait two hours it says, so I got on the sofa with remote-control footrest and stuck Witness on repeat on the laptop. (Obviously praying no b!gger came visiting as I’d have some serious f!cking explaining to do sat there). Already having got through a six-pack by then I dozed off halfway through first ascent number 8, and when I woke up my f!cking nails were shiny-sparkly. Jesus FC. Excuse my French. So then I had to call in sick the next day, and buy some fr!gging nail varnish remover. Me! The CrankMesiter. Looking this f!cking weedy !sshole pharmacist in the eye who was thinking God knows what as I handed over the three quid or whatever. Anyway, damage sorted, kind of. Luckily I haven’t seen that girl again, although what the hell would I tell her anyway I don’t know. So, now it’s back to the old yellow-nails. Team Crank consensus is that this probably means that toe-sucking is probably out. One of them told me there’s some pill or something that will do it, but I reckon the daft !ss is confusing that with contraception.
Hey did you ever notice that?! I can’t believe I only just clocked it. F!cking hilarious. Came to me this weekend when me and the Prof from Team Crank were projecting this 7a warm-up and I was belaying, minding my own business, and my mate was stuck trying to get out of this rest and he said ‘I need to be..’ and he went quiet, straining like, then he said ‘gaston’. Brilliant. Gettit? ‘I need to be gassed on.’ I tell you what I f!cking nearly died laughing and almost dropped my can of Coke right there and then. My whole body was straining to get out ‘I’ll !ffing well gass on you if you want it that much mate!’, but I was doubled up laughing and snorting. The entire rest of the day we were at it saying ‘gassed on’. And to cap it all, this geezer and his girl passed by watching us warming up a couple of hours later and we got chatting about the sequence, and every time he said ‘gaston’ we cracked up. I tried to explain, but we got the giggles again and the old voice sounded like I was in pain, being strangled by my harness or something. They didn’t seem to dig the joke and shuffled off. Oh well. Some people. Gaston. Gassed-on. It’s even making me f!cking laugh just writing it. Brilliant. It’s like someone decided to call a climbing move a farton. As in, fart-on. Although I guess it’s not quite the same, because it’s sort of in the past isn’t it. So it would be a fartedon.
Crankmeister has read most of the top climbing books, and they are big on stuff like setting your climbing goals. Obviously, my main climbing goal is to get laid, but apart from that, I reckon that I want to get into the unlaced warm-ups club. You know the guys I am talking about. They are onto those holds without their laces done up, and they are sending out seriously cool vibes. Like: ‘This is so f!cking below my grade I could actually do it in moon-boots, let alone climbing shoes,’, or ‘I’m such a laid-back hippy dude in tune with the rock that I don’t even think about this laces stuff. I’m surprised I even bothered to put on my !ffing clothes I am so out of it.’
Anyway, as McCleod constantly bangs on in his stuff, you don’t get anything without a serious lot of hard work, so I am going to dedicate myself to mastering (sorry should have been meistering) the art of warming up without tying your laces. This morning my local was unusually quiet so I could have a go without any punters clocking what I was up to, but to be honest it was a total disaster. Trod on the lace on the crash mat on the way to the start hold and went !ss over t!t, whacking me head on some stupid V0 hold as I fell. Lesson learned! Even the CM with his effing PhD at the climbing university of life has got stuff to learn: next time I will be lacing up for the walk across the mat, then unlacing for the warm-up! Sorted!