The making of Office Xtreme Sports
Looks boring, doesn't it?
Same office, day in, day out. Same pain in the ass boss. Same chair, staring at
the same monitor, typing the same shit.
It's enough to make a sane man lose his reason. Banana.
But not any more, not after the pioneering White Russian article Xtreme
Office Sports.
Not since American Airlines decided to deliver commuters directly to their desks
(albeit at 50,000 degrees celcius) has the Office world been rocked so much.
But this was not an easy article to put together - in fact
it was a logistical nightmare.
Made in the run-up to exams, it was hard to get us all together in one place at
one time, let alone sober enough to do anything productive. What if we broke an
arm? How would the exams go then?
What were the legal implications of riding a chair through public areas? We all
know how much shit skaters get; how would joe public react to a man in
sunglasses and a suit stunting a piece of furniture? (The answer to this
particular question gave us some top amusement, but more about that
later).
Our concerns about injury were put at rest by our in house medic, Dr
J-man; pictured below with his top notch team of high-flying trauma experts:
(Dr J-man: "This looks safe enough to me: If anyone wants me I'll be in the
bar.")
(30 minutes later, J-man: "Ah shit, I didn't think they were going to be
quite that extreme...)
All we needed now was some chairs, a camera and a location.
The chairs were easy: we picked one up from a flea market for the princely sum
of £10, which was more than worth the amount of comedy we got out of it. The
other chair was stolen from home.
The computer equipment we used as props were easy: DOV was driving home one day,
thinking about where he was going to get some Office props from, when suddenly
he saw the busted monitor and keyboard in a skip by the roadside!
The driver
behind did not particularly like DOV's emergency stop, since he skidded to a
halt with all 4 wheels locked and got out of the car before it had even stopped
moving in his enthusiasm.
With a victory scream of "Jackpot, baby!",
DOV was off with the goods.
The first attempt at being Xtreme
Our first location was a carpark on the way to a barbecue at Cranfield
caravan park, where we turned up and turned Xtreme.
(The first ever attempt to surf an office chair, caught on film for
future generation of Office Xtreme Sports kids to gaze upon in wonder).
After getting to grips with the chair, we got the wonderful shots you saw in Xtreme
Office Sports. The team at this point consisted of the Kolonel and La Femme
Nikki, who's invaluable assistance is probably best shown in this short video
clip:
la femme nikki
The car park was the first attempt at Xtreme-ism, so naturally we went a bit
mad.
The fact that there were people watching us not only from the parked cars in the
area, but from the main road you can see over the stone wall - needless to say
our antics resulted in several car horn blasts and a few near accidents as
drivers craned their necks to see what the hell we were up to!
Luckily the police did not show up...
(The Kolonel shows us how to "Superman" in style)
(Always eager to help, the Kolonel ruthlessly pushes DOV off a picnic table
"to get the shot just right")
Cranfield Caravan Park
Cranfield Caravan Park, our destination after the Car Park.
We arrived sweaty and hungry, but on meeting up with the J-man we decided some
more stunting was called for. This was reinforced since at this point he had
been roped into cooking, and was not best pleased:
(J-man: raging)
The plan was simple yet brilliant, all the hall marks of the White Russian....
we would set up a table with computer monitor and keyboard and have the Kolonel
sitting at it with the J-man, looking busy. I would roll down a hill on the
office chair and crash over the table (taking the monitor with me). The other
two would then start whacking me with rolled up news papers as I lay on the
ground.
What can I say, we're comedy geniuses.
There were 4 main drawbacks with this plan:
1) Cranfield is privately owned
2) The owner lives at the bottom of the aforementioned hill
3) He isn't Xtreme
4) He is a grumpy, humorless shite
He caught us, and the event went (from his perspective), something like this:
A car pulls up and three guys get out.
One is wearing the cheapest looking suit in the world.
Another of the guys, who appears to be wearing an apron, helps him out of his
jacket and shirt. He then proceeds to duct-tape a motorcycle back protector to
the now semi-naked suit wearer, while the third guy begins to unload office
equipment from the back of the car.
Grumpy Shite decides to investigate, correct in his assumption that these guys
are up to no good.
"Eh, what do you think you're doing lads?"
"Em, er, we were going to film a stunt for a website," says the
unloader, who has the decency to look embarrassed.
"This is private property lads. There's no way".
"Sorry, we didn't know," responds apron.
"You should at least have the decency to ask permission, you can't just
turn up like this! What if you got hurt?", says Grumpy Shite; to the men
who have spent all day falling off, over or onto things in the name of comedy.
"Mumblemumblemumblesorrydidnthink", was the response from the three
suspects, who decided to cut their losses and piss off for some food and beer.
Grumpy Shite returned home, wallowing in his small victory for the forces of
banality. Dickhead.
He won the battle at that point, but the war would continue once the White
Russian team were Suitably Blasted (© J-man, 2001)....
Several hours, a shit load of food and lots of drink later, the Team was ready:
We decided that the best thing to do would be to get the skateboard out, and use
the Massive hill at Grumpy Shites house to do a few high-speed fly-bys of
his bed room window.
Another top plan, how do we keep on doing it...?
(DOV reaching the bottom of the hill at close to light speed. Notice how he is
travelling so fast that he has to hold his comedy sombrero to stop it blowing
off...)
If you have ever watched Casualty on TV, you will notice how you can almost
always see the accident waiting to happen:
A farmer driving a high loader near low power cables, a man looking down to
change his radio station while driving past school gates; or in this case the
Kolonel, who has never skated in his life, deciding to try for the first time on
one of the biggest hills I have ever seen, in the middle of the night, drunk.
It was bound to happen:
(Kids, always take appropriate safety measures when skateboarding. In this case
the Kolonel took the precaution of getting drunk as hell so that even if his
safety fishing-hat let him down, he wouldn't feel the pain. He felt it in the
morning though. Yes-sir-ey. Stinger.)
The Kolonels spectacular 30 mile per hour slide on his hands and knees brought
and end to the Xtreme-ism that night, but we were far from finished with Grumpy
Shite...
Office Chairs on a Half Pipe?
We answered the question posed in the original OXS article -
office chairs can be effectively used in a skateboard half-pipe. This caused
quite a stir in the scientific community; given the widely held opinion that it
simply couldn't be done. Steven Hawking
was particularly raging.
Office Chairs in Beach Ranger Country...
It is well known that the J-man is a beach ranger - you can find out how to
be one too in his Beach Ranger Quiz article.
(J-man, Beach Ranger: a man not afraid to "Throw a by-law at you").
Amongst the other privileges this job brings, it gives the J-man the run of
Tyrella Beach. We figured, therefore, that it would be rude not to abuse this
fact and use Tyrella as what was - for all intents and purposes - a consequence
free environment.
Jackpot, baby!
If Cranfield had taught us anything, it was that we would have to keep out of
the way of Authority to finish this project. Therefore, the trick would be to
arrive as discretely as possible and keep things very subtle and hush-hush...
(The team arrive at Tyrella Beach; quietly and discretely as ever....)
The beach was entertaining and provided us with the spectacular "Moto-cross"
style shots in the original article. The shots that didn't make it into
the article fell into two main groups: arieal test shots to judge the frame
sizes, and shots of us completely destroying the computer equipment we had with
us.
So, without further adieu;
(Some high-octane shots that didn't make it into the original article)
To further the stealth of our mission, we decided that we would have to bust up
the gear we had with us. We can only be thankful that the Kolonel doesn't have a
gun or things would have got messy...
(The above look roughly like the reaction to J-mans 'new look' front page: the
J-man whilst trying to design it, and the Kolonel upon seeing the insanely over
complex Coding he used...)
(The Kolonel with "KO" keys in his mouth. Office Xtreme Sports: a real
KnockOut).
And so it ended at Tyrella. Job well done.
(J-man will probably never work there again.)
The return to Cranfield!
Round two. Ding, ding; baby.
We were back to the realm of the Grumpy Shite for the final bout of filming for
the Office Xtreme Sports article; and this time it was all about revenge...
Two things were clear to our alcohol-soaked brains:
1) We had to get the shot we were originally planning on, of me riding an office
chair down the infamous Big Hill.
2) We had to teach Grumpy Shite a lesson.
The first was easy: a quick infiltration under cover of darkness (Suitably Blasted© of course) and the picture would be ours. We didn't mind losing the chair in the ensuing chase because the Big Hill shot would finish the article.
The revenge part of the plan would be the sweetest though.
In the first trip to Cranfield, someone accidentally left a piece of bread from
the BBQ outside. This had the unfortunate effect of attracting birds at the
small hours of the morning to scavenge.
Since we were staying in a caravan, however, it meant that these gulls were
clomping around on what is essentially a giant metal box.
Let me tell you, friend, there is nothing worse than being woken at 4.30am by
what sounds like all four Horsemen of the Apocalypse hammering on the giant
metal box in which you are trying to sleep off a hangover.
The sheer volume these feathery avian bastards made led the Kolonel and myself
to the simultaneous and, to our minds, quite logical conclusion that they were
in fact Evil Cyborg Ninja Gulls (or ECNG's).
The other thing we realised was that if a few of these ECNG's were attracted by
a piece of bread, what then would happen if we were to cover Grumpy
Shites house and garden in bread, sausages and other yummy tit-bits?
Comedy. Thetas what would happen.
("Find yourself covered in feathery, squawking killer Evil Cyborg Ninja
Gulls? That, my friend, is what happens when you fuck around with the White
Russian" - old Polish saying, which scientist believe dated back to the
early 16th century.)
(The Kolonel and DOV test out the bait)
(Look at the sheer delight on DOV's face - a man at his happiest when he's up to
no good. In the background, the Kolonel indulges in some self congratulation as
he lands a burger right onto Grumpy Shites 3rd floor balcony).
(Like so many White Russian endeavours, it ends with a security light coming on
and the lads leg it. As they crash over a hedge they notice the sign warning
them that the Park is under 24 hour CCTV surveillance...).
(...which doesn't stop them coming back to get the Big Hill shot. DOV's face is
a textbook combination of fear and determination!)
Well, that's the end for Office Xtreme.
Thanks to the Newcastle Skaters for the use of the half pipe,
interested/horrified members of the public for their support, the J-man's bosses
for not being present at Tyrella, and Grumpy Shite for giving us quality
entertainment.
A show isn't a show without a Bad Guy.
I'm finishing this article 3 hours before we are due to go back to Cranfeild again.
Thing is, though, that hooked onto my car outside is a trailer containing a
200cc, 30 horsepower Yamaha Blaster quad bike.
Looks like its another eventful couple of days for the folks at Cranfield
beach...
