Tuesday, 24 July 2012

Trion:Z Magnetic Wrist Band - A Man Blog Review

Writing an international blog allows me some perks, one of which is that companies want me to plug their gear.

Normally I ignore these requests as most of them are bunk, however this particular one piqued my curiosity, so I agreed to give it a look.

Upon opening the package I was presented with the 'trion:z magnetic band'. "What could this possibly be?", I thought to myself.

So I immediately did some research. It was going for £20 on Amazon so i figured it must have something to it.


I quickly read the pamphlet included in the packaging. It was clear this was a sports aid of some sort. All of the celebrity endorsements were from various sporting personalities including England's own Jimmy Anderson. This had to be good.

I started to look for what the band actually does. Things started to get a bit vague at this point. "Intended use: this product is intended to improve blood flow and to reduce muscle stiffness", ok, but how? "method of action: permanent magnet in the device improves blood flow." Obvious really. "operating instructions: wear as a bracelet". Well that clears that up then. This was the sole documentation included in a high end sports aid. I was yet to be convinced.

I returned to the packaging for any further clues as to the science behind this clearly magical piece of kit. Luckily there was more detail on the back.


If you can't be bothered to read the photo here's my summary: magnets increase magnetic field flow and generate and release negative ions. I shit you not.

So still clueless as to what the band does or why you would need it I fired up laptop and went to Trion:Z's website.

After a few minutes reading similar bunk to the above, and some bollocks about Cleopatra sleeping on a magnetic lodestone I found these before and after images.

Untitled Untitled

So increased blood flow to the hand and less stiff wrists. This is clearly a wanking aid. Designed to abolish the mythical "wankers whiplash". Trion:Z were merely attempting to make tuggery safer.

I realised I had to stop being cynical. The only easy to know for sure was to test it. It was designed for athletes (not wanking), so I'd have to do something athletic. First I'd have to wear the silly thing.


For some reason my wrist had felt particularly weak and limp all morning. The magnetised band slide on, KRAKOOM, with a snap my whole arm went taut.


I felt energised and knew that this was not some worthless tat designed to part people with too much money from their, well, money. I knew that I now wore the secret to professional sport, I had my edge. I fired up FIFA on the PS3 and went straight online.

Until that day i had never won a game of FIFA online. That hasn't changed, but I came close. That's the important thing, my performance improved.

What seemed a little odd though was whilst wearing the band whenever I became angry I could feel an explosive amount of energy build up. I almost thought that when I was onto my fifth straight loss that my arms were turning green, and rather than shouting obscenities at the young Spaniard dealing out yet another whooping, i was mono-syllabically shouting "angry", and "rage". I don't remember much after except that I woke in the garden in a torn pair of purple trousers and there was a hole in the wall. Quite strange.

However, I was convinced. This band was truly a miracle. I know there's a bunch of scientists in Switzerland who have discovered the "god particle", well I've discovered the "god bracelet". I'm not sure there isn't one part of your life that couldn't be improved by forking out nearly £20 for this essential lifestyle item.

If you're skint you can buy mine for a £10.

Want to write for this blog? You can do so here.


Friday, 20 July 2012

The Dartford cut

I try and cut my hair as little as possible. I have no discernable style, other than using gel when it's short.

When deciding where to get my hair cut I don't look at reputation, or previous good experiences. I look for, price, opening times, and distance.

This has lead me to discover a curiosity within North Kent. It may well be that this exists outside of North Kent, but you write about your own experience. I call it the "Dartford" cut, although in fairness I've experienced the same thing in Gravesend, and various other little towns.

Essentially it involves walking into any low price barbers, requesting a cut, and leaving with the same haircut as everyone else. There is no difference. Everyone gets the same cut, at the same cost.

You can request anything, absolutely anything, and you'll receive a shave around the sides and back of your head and a trim on top. There's a savage blend process between the sides and top of the head and you end up leaving with a haircut much akin to a GI.

Generally you can mask most of these hair based crimes with gel, or in the case of most Dartfordians a jaunty angled Nike cap.

How do you know if you're about to have, or have a received a "Dartford" cut? Look out for these tell tale signs-

Identikit, black and white, example photos-

They are the same photos in every barbers. Natty looking chaps in cable knit with the latest 'dos. It's a testament to male hair care that these photos haven't been updated since the 80's.


Have you got change out of tenner? I'm not talking coppers, I'm talking nuggets. If so you've got a "Dartford".


Maybe it's just something about Dartford, or maybe I'm treading on thin ice, but if you've walked into your chosen barbers and there isn't someone of Greek, Cypriot, or Turkish descent brandishing clippers you're in the wrong place (or right place depending on your view point).


You go into the barbers. You recognise the face about to clip your hair, but you can't quite place it. As you leave, you notice the property next door. Bingo. The guy that just cut your hair also dished out meat and chips the night before when you were pissed. Again, not wanting to go down a stereotyping route, but if there isn't a kebab shop next door, you're in a fancy salon (sort of).

So there you go. Enjoy the savagery of the Dartford cut. It'll be fine in a week once it's grown out a bit.

Want to write for this blog? You can do so here.


Thursday, 5 July 2012

BMW Drivers Are Dicks

This weeks blog has kindly been written by Alice. Amazingly another lady has decided to grace the Man Blog with their thoughts.

Luckily I'm open minded so have no problem with accepting posts from anyone. After all it saves me loads of time.

We've got quite a controversial post this time. If you don't agree, feel free to weigh in.....

BMW Drivers Are Dicks
bmw dislike

As a child I would often hear my Dad referring to BMW drivers as “idiots” (no doubt something more boorish when little ears were out of shot) and by rule, because as kids we believed everything our parents said, I would often repeat this mantra without any real understanding of what I was actually talking about. However now as a qualified driver I fully understand and appreciate the wise words of my old man. I admit that I suffer from road rage but it is the drivers of BMW’s that really grind my gears.  
There are 3 categories that these drivers fall into: The Company Car Drivers, The “I can afford to buy a BMW” Drivers and The Chav Drivers. Let me elaborate…

The Company Car Drivers:
05_Flatbed_2 - DECEMBER

We’ve all seen them; driving around in their brand new BMW’s, Bluetooth headset in, suit jacket hanging in the back seat window, Sat Nav perched in its cradle (or if they’re top dog, on a little screen by the cd player) and let’s face it, thinking their shit don’t stink. But we all know that the car isn’t actually theirs, it’s on loan to them as a perk of the job. You can guarantee that as you and your “Company Car Driver” friend are sitting in the pub they will bore you to death with the ins and outs of their BMW TwinPower Turbo four-cylinder in-line petrol engine and three spoke multi-function leather steering wheel.

It isn’t just their “I’m the dogs’ bollocks” attitude that defines them, it’s the way they drive their “beauties.” Due to the size of their cars they feel that they own the roads (all other road users should give way and priority to them). They are also so consumed by their business meeting via their Bluetooth that they drive like arseholes.

The “I can afford to buy a BMW” Drivers

This category is a slightly broader one, made up of two subcategories. 1- The midlife Crisis 2- Mums on the school run/WAG’s.

1- The midlife Crisis:

Ok, so you’ve got a bit of money in the bank and you want to treat yourself to a new car, an Audi? A Mercedes? Maybe even a Jag? No, they choose a BMW. Why I hear you ask well let me explain. The sort of people that I have come across that personally own a BMW are the type of people that are in their 50’s that think they’re still in their 30’s, a midlife crisis some may say. They think their new wheels make them look “cool” and the other cars listed above don’t quite cut it.

2- Mums on the school run/WAG’s:
BMV 4x4

Some women feel they need a 4x4, big engined car (in black or silver with obligatory tinted windows) to drop off their one child to the local school that is within a 5 minute walking distance. These said women will then travel to the local supermarket and park across two parking bays. The preferred vehicle of choice is the BMW X5. Although they will possess no knowledge about their car they will choose it for status amongst the other mums at the school gates and fellow WAG’s.

When it comes to driving, both of these groups drive like dickheads, whether it’s parking right outside the school gates or with the roof down, wearing Ray Bans, a leather jacket and chinos at the grand old age of 50.

The Chav Drivers
Chav BMV

Got a clapped out BMW for sale? Get it on Gumtree and wait for the local chav/boy racer to come knocking. These cars seem to be particular favourites for your council estate residents (I think it’s the name that does it). These BMW owners are probably the worst offenders of the bunch. Careless driving- check. Added spoiler- check. Tinted windows- check. Staffy sat on passenger seat- check and last but not least a thick gold chain, greasy mulletesque hairstyle and Nikey trainers- check. You will find these people gathered at local industrial estates on a Friday evening standing around admiring their cars. They will speed away from these “meets” as fast as possible and with as much tyre screeching as possible. Needless to say that these people are dicks.

And there you have it, proof that BMW drivers are indeed Dicks.
If you have read any of this and thought to yourself “I don’t agree with that” it’s probably because you are one of the many BMW drivers out there…

Well, there you go. It's safe to say that Alice isn't a fan of BMWs or their drivers. I'd like to add that this stereotypical attitude seems to have spread to a lot of German made cars. I will also add that most of the time it's not the car, it's the driver. After all a prick in a BMW, is still a prick.

Want to write for this blog? You can do so here.


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