Thank you, Señor Twatwaffle.

There is no need to kick Ryan in the balls for his irreverent introductions as he regularly self-flagellates via the sporting medium of KravMaga. Any kind of “fun” that requires groin protection should be questioned, found wanting and no further discussion should henceforth be held on the matter.  Any person engaging such activity of their own volition is likely not of sound enough mind to be writing for the general public. Alas, this is the internet age and our standards have fallen far and hard, people. Take it from a 90s child who still remembers the pre-doge syntax.

How do you describe Ryan.  A crisp, full-bodied carrot liquor with an annoying aroma and notes of total crackpot. As if being an aggressive shade of SunnyD weren’t enough, Ryan is the only person I know who has an eidetic memory for 80s pop lyrics and, as such, functions rather like a violently orange jukebox. One that is constantly on shuffle. And that speaks Catalan. With no off-switch. We’ve checked.

This means that he is my best friend.*

Although not a medical doctor (thank multiple deities), he is capable of curing a slipped disc by making the suffer laugh so hard that they vomit and have to worry about that instead. His talents do not end there, however: having broken the world record for not just the worst cover of “Self Esteem” by The Offspring but the TWENTY worst covers of the same title, Ryan is perhaps the most persistent pioneer in the field of the four-chord song, taking the genre’s merits and strangling them to death for the enjoyment of his fellow musical sadists. Indeed, the name of this very blog is derived from the Latin for: “Holly and Ryan have started a band. Run away. Fast. GO!!!!”

 I now hand you back to my fellow trout to continue this unholy discourse.  

*Yes, I know it’s unfortunate. Also, ‘Becca isn’t my best friend. She’s my best bro and that’s a whole ‘nother level of commitment. 

Good evening.

So. This is it. You're probably wondering why I've gathered you all here today...

Well, here we go motherlovers - welcome to UnculturedTrout.co.uk; emergency exits can be found in the rear left of the carriage. 

I'm going to get this party started with a bang, with a slightly unconventional and very possibly fatal move:  I'm not going to begin with an introduction, either to myself or to the website. Instead I'm going to introduce you to Holly, my worst enemy good friend and co-author. This might result in me getting kicked in the balls, or worse - publicly humiliated on my own blog when she does her version - but sod it. As a wise man* once said "#Yolo".

Here we go.


*No wise man ever said this

A wild Holly in its native habitat.

Meet Holly.

Holly is a recent graduate [as of about a week ago] of Spanish, which she speaks a lot better than this picture might imply. You could argue that her Spanish is better than her English, being from Manchester and all.

Holly has a wide range of interests, including eating, sleeping, K-Pop Wednesdays, drinking cider, Cards Against Humanity, writing about vaginas, reading about vaginas, and complaining about how her entire degree has ended up being about vaginas. We met thanks to a shared love of grammar, llamas, and tormenting Becca.

She is also one of the funniest people I've ever met, with a beautiful writing style, so if her next post isn't poetic comedy gold she's fired.

Right, now that THOSE shots are fired, let the games begin.

Stay tuned for updates everybody.

-Ryan