PROURBEX

Ultraviolent Shards

Yaz — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 13:50:38 +0000

The Shard offered an unspoilt view over one of my favourite cities, but the best thing about it was climbing such an iconic building with my friends.

Photo: The Shard, London (2011)

Go-Ape Shit!

Yaz — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 16:05:49 +0000

The summers of yesteryear led us to the woods; in all directions around the City of Manchester, into the quiet counties where we’d walk, joke and let mischief brew. Our party would always look odd; several yout’s and a bunch of odd contraptions with bits of climbing gear attached, yelling and jeering the highest calibre of profanities. In the afternoons we’d watch numerous families on the Go-Ape courses. Looking at their smiles; a direct relation to how happy they were over forking out the extortionate cost of playing up in the tree’s. We wanted those smiles and giggles, but we most certainly weren’t going to pay for it, and with not paying for something surely we weren’t going to abide by any rules other than don’t fall off.

So, for months of the year, our quiet summer evenings were spent waiting for the wardens to close up, only to get entire crews of us up in the tree’s. Scott and I soon found ourselves becoming Illicit Go-Ape instructors for our friends which in hindsight is hilarious. It provoked us to think, and with bradders the invention of something is always fun-going; Thus Super-Pole V1.0 was created. The Super- Pole was the tool that aided in getting our entire crews up to the high-tree levels of Go-Ape, comprised of a single Petzl MGO, 10m of electron ladders and the pole to hook us on – no silly grappling hooks – eventually ending up with Super-Pole v3.6 (the amount of times we accidentally broke or lost a super-pole to the woods led to various upgrades)

After hours Go-Ape became ours, and I cant even begin to name the hundreds of people we took on excursions – I just want to say thank-you for all the good times. No time at Go-Ape was bad, even the times we had to run, or when Frainey crashed into Scott on the huge zip-wire, or even when we celebrated Vicky’s birthday complete with cake and champagne!

Valencian Dance Parties

Yaz — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 21:51:04 +0000

I’m quite looking forward to the secret future happenings in the next few months or so. This time more so because I know the entire crew heading over this year is going to be actually insane.

I hope the trinkets that curly & co found are still perched high on the main wall of the chamber, and alas a few more to add soon!

I can’t say more about Valencia, it’s abso-fucking-lutely beautiful, and the girls are pretty nice also.

Photo: Matt, Rooftop in Valencia, Spain (2011)

Getting Truly Lost

Yaz — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 16:50:49 +0000

Antwerp’s sewer system is a real funny one, and for a while we thought it’d be fairly cool, chilled, and not massively complex. Boy we were wrong, Venomous!

I’ve been lost underground before in sewer networks for hours, but they’ve usually been easy to escape from should the inevitable happy, however with Belgium, we’d literally got ourselves lost so fucking bad to the point where it became hilariously funny and delirious – we’d pass hundreds of manholes sealed so fucking tight there was literally no chance of escape.

After something like 12 hours underground luckily our man Dsankter found us a ladder that led to a rather unusual place, which posed other problems. Hah. Manholes in peoples back-gardens is a funny old one!

Photo: Lucy, our poser for most of the flicks! Antwerps Sewer System, Belium, Europe, 2011

The Antwerp Ruien

Yaz — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 22:35:23 +0000

Wow, I haven’t updated in a while, now seems about right. Most people probably think i’m not exploring anymore but the truth is i’m exploring more than ever in avenues both similar and completely dissimilar. 2011 was a year of good highs and dark lows; exploring physically and learning about myself.

I think falling off radar for a while has definitely done me some good, there have been stages this year which have completely fucked me over, and i’ve been left picking up and resorting the brain matter back to a new mindstate. If there’s anything i’ve learnt is that being cynical and distrusting of people isn’t such a bad thing. Keeping guard on yourself should be the priority at all times. Some exploring done this year has totally smashed anything ive ever done before, but then that depends on how each and everyone defines the particular word.

Anyway, I went on a wonderful trip to Belgium earlier this year with a few lovely old friends, and here’s a photo for you oogle at. hope yall enjoy, and have a brilliant 2012.

Photo: Lucinda, The Sewers of the Anterwerpen Ruien, Belgium, Europe, 2011

p.s thanks for the biscuit box on the ladder rung curly x

Marshall the Invalide

Yaz — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 19:32:36 +0000

This is Marshall. Marshall does not have big hands and he certainly doesn’t shop at Aldi. What Marshall does is anyone’s guess, but let me say, don’t run into him when he’s in a bad mood; He’ll pull ya fuckin tongue out ya fuckin mouth and stab that shit with a rusty screwdriver.

The story of Invalides is a funny one, I’m still not sure of the specifics, but some disturbance occurred at this maintenance loop, and half of the mandem thought to split. Do bear in mind these are split-second decisions as you don’t want a French doggy (froggy?) biting your cock with some sukka RATP guardem holdin a tazer-gat to your dome (real shit fool don’t mess with those cunts). After scrambling out of our raccord air-vent (unbolted by qx and ’sankter) a dog handler inquires what we are up to. I fucking love Europe man, pulling out the tourist card to a piggy never fails.

Photo: Marshall – Invalides, Paris, France

Here is where Marshall will merk your fucking eyeballs on his website.

Odéon

Yaz — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 16:20:29 +0000

Hiding down the Odéon side tunnel (raccord) snarling at Parisian commuters. Paris I love you and miss you!

The Seven Four Seven

Yaz — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 23:12:21 +0000

The six of us had parked up and hopped the gate no problem, making our way across the airfield to the big black silhouette found on the farside. It was still a fair walk so we hustled, passing the DC-8 and making for the 747. Upon nearing the rear wheels of the plane, we’d spotted a 4×4 approaching us and quickly panic turned into a sprint. Where the fuck can you hide on an airstrip?! Our only option was to squeeze into the wheel bay. Awesome. well, err, not… the main problem with this was that only three could properly crouching tiger and stay hidden dragon. Whilst two others were hidden in the hold of the DC-8, the 4×4 patrol car was within 10 metres of me as it looped the rear of the Jumbo Jet. As it went round, I was on the counter side and through some stroke of luck managed to crawl around the wheel bay as the 4×4 looped it, staying unspotted. We figured this gave us about 30 minutes to get into the aircraft and let the party commence!

Photo: On the roof of the 747, London, UK (2011)

Paris Métro #0422

Yaz — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 14:36:42 +0000

For the life of me, I cannot remember where I took this photo, but all I remember is that it was pretty dark until WHOOOOOOSSSSHHH a train blasted through the station.

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Croix Rouge

Yaz — Sat, 27 Aug 2011 20:45:58 +0000

Myself and Siologen awoke in a furniture-less Châteaux Deluxe. It was fucking freezing, but our bodies didn’t care for it – I was highly dosed up on Tramadol and Siolo was still drunk from the night before. Stumbling out of the squat was nice, Paris had the smell in the air that anything could happen, the smell of illegality. And shit son, it was brewing. Or maybe the smell was coming from two bums near the squat, they were utilising the heat from a metro vent under their mattress. I’ll still bag that the wonders of C.D far exceeded their heated bed-spread – if they could only be bothered to establish squat presence themselves.

The two of us jumped the barrier onto line 13 in South Paris, we’d gone halves on 10 metro tickets but they were expended and by now I was walking passed metro guards by casually/blatantly hurdling the gate and Siolo was busting through the main grilled doors, letting girls through and closing it behind him for jokes. As the train rolled in we hit the last carriage and back-rode our metro train to Duroc (courtesy of the wrench Quantum-X lent us) , and then to our port of call Sèvres Babylone. Croix Rouge, our target, was supposedly a few hundred meters northbound of Babylone. After a quick check of cameras, pedestrians and metro cleaners our train pulled in, and consequently out – followed by the crunching of metro rocks as the clown and I pegged into the darkness of the tunnel, both of us praying we hadn’t been seen.

Photo: Siologen, Croix Rouge, Paris, (2011)

Wandering Down Line 5

Yaz — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 00:57:55 +0000

Random snap wandering down line/ligne 5 in the Paris metro. We’d previously disturbed a lady-bum looking for metro entrances. The vagabondess made her make shift city bedroom complete with a pretty comfy looking bed, set of drawers, shoe rack and alarm clock all hidden in a piss-ridden alley covered by blue tarp. Thinking we’d try the door later when she was out, Siolo and I headed into the murkyness of Ligne 5 where, after a few sneaky clangs and bangs, bumped into trackworkers. Then we darted.

Photo: Ligne 5, Metro, Paris, (2010)

Boucle la Boucle

Yaz — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 18:48:07 +0000

We’d been cycling over the city for a while now, and hadn’t made it hidden that we really enjoyed fucking up the Vélo’s – Paris’ rent-a-bikes. Qx was storming the fuckers, smashing into Siolo’s and I’s like nobody’s business until we decided to rip the grate off a nearby métro vent. Not a huge problem lifting the grate off, since our crew was in deep with the likes of Marshall, Vivo, Snapella and Dsankt too. The main problem was keeping quiet, and staying out of the fuckrie – a difficult thing to achieve. IIRC theres a photo lurking the interweb of the very raccord we droped into, and low and behold – a flick of Siolo and Snappel only with cans of Maximator nd Spesh.

Photo: Snappel (left), A Pied Des Invalides, Paris, (2010)

Cultus Klatawa

Yaz — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 12:08:42 +0000

Myself and Zero stank of putrid Mid-Level 2. We’d crawled through a two foot high pipe to enter another system whilst rapidly trying to avoid the shit torrents almost peaking above our entrance. Stagnated sewage and its relative detritus clung harder than hard so we needed a high place de-smell and un-sweat the underground dregs. After testing out a few new keys fresh through the post we decided to avoid paying the £1.50 or whatever it costs (to go up Monument) and instead spend the oyster fair to reach a different rooftop.

The night was clear, and we sat listening to The Shimmering Hour by Wisp discussing the relative fuckeries of life, love and bullshit, with our attention turning to the talk of climbing The Shard. From the latter end of the building looking southward we watched tiny dots scuttling across London Bridge and from the north side the sky was pierced by the funny odd shapes and bright lights that make London’s skyline. It was nice, sitting there, knowing that there’s still a few beautiful roses in the garden of the world even though you’re constantly scouting the ground for dogshit – dogshit that the owner forgot to pick up or maybe even left there for you to purposely step in.

Photo: Me sitting on some fucking rooftop blah blah, London, UK (2010)

Pickles or Gherks?

Yaz — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 20:44:52 +0000

Here’s a really shit photograph taken from the rooftop of some building right next to the Gherkin. With the game step-up of police, security, threat-culture and CCTV leading up to the 2012 ‘lympics you’d expect the area to be at least patrolled by dem pussy ‘ole community fake coppers. With the CCTV wotcha’s sippin starbucks the four of us waltzed into the building no problem. The fucking door was open. I always check the handle and the amount of times when the door is actually open is truly phenomenal.

As for the building inside. Bit of a shit-tip, the kind of building some Shoreditch fixie wanker would enjoy photographing the “urban created desolation” or some shit to include in their media degree, but either way we made our way upstairs causing no vandalism whatsoever I REPEAT NO VANDALISM lol. The great thing about demolition sites are the stupid amounts of air-horns lying about everywhere. Great fun when Mr Security Guard is asleep in his metal cabin and your on the sneak flex – SUDDENLY MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (is that what they sound like? its hard to define) . Now, we get to the roof and we’re havin fun yellin shit at people, the SilentUK fam are busy doin their ting and then I done something stupid – blastin one of the several air-horns in my hand right into gyallyfleurs ear. The poor girl got fucking mad vexed at me and I spent the rest of the time apologizing to her boyf who thought it was a fair jokerie. But yess misssy I am well sorry just so you know! x x x (kisses for u onii chan)

Photo: Shit Building, London, UK (2011)

Sulpicious

Yaz — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 01:52:17 +0000

A classically shit photograph of the oddly out of place tower dominating the Mont-Parnasse (Mount Penis) area of Paris. T’was taken from the roof of Saint Sulpice, a church in Paris, which, If I remember correctly is opposite a bloody police station. I was in Paris a couple of weeks ago so I thought it would be fun to catch a couple of flicks and dart before heading back to London. The church itself is pretty damn beautiful if you’re into that – Personally I had more fun throwing shit at Parisian cyclists and drunken tourists.

Photo: MOUNT PENIS, Church de Saint Sulpice, Paris, France (2011)

Pouvoir d’attelage

Yaz — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 22:45:23 +0000

Monolust; Walking at 6am down the abandoned train line to the airport, a flight to the middle of nowhere in Southern rural France, two hitch-hikes with two equally dodgy drivers, catching the start of the Tour De France, witnessing street light outage, seriously bitching fireworks, a dodgy kebab, song improv’s about hoe-bags on the riverbanks, roughing it in that nice riverside bush, waking up in the super-am to floating mist, the dodgy double-taking dogwalkers, the super weird trams, the unhelpful tourism bureaux, climbing Saint Etienne, meeting the two random french blokes who pussied out on the climb, getting epicly lost, meeting the nice baker at 4am who gave us water, wandering through miles of pitch-black French countryside watching the milky-way listening to Daft Punk, G declining £20 to piggyback me, sleeping next to the runway and lastly getting woken up to the sound of an air-plane taking off.

Photo: Cathedral de St Etienne (left), and Bastilles Fireworks, Toulouse, France, (2010)

Roma Shuntah

Yaz — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 02:38:26 +0000

I found myself briefly outside Rome about two months or so ago with some time to kill bill vol 3 – so I found a local freight yard, and as per usual with Europe in general, walking around a yard in broad daylight is nothing more than walking down your street. Rail-based wanderings in Italy especially with my experience of those in Milan and Venice are stupidly fucking easy, sometimes so easy you constantly think you’ve overlooked something.

It makes you think about how much of a fucking joke it is with English Railways. £2000 fine for trespass? Fuck off. I got offered a cigar and some coffee from a Roman trackie, that’s the kind of hospitality you should get. Coffee and Smokes was probably the most exciting part of a 2 day visit to Rome’s suburbia. Bleah.

Photo: Shunter, Some random as fuck yard outside Rome, Italy (2011)

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RER Lignes D

Yaz — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 12:58:57 +0000

In essence, the RER feels like a fresh uplifting change from the grimy piss-smelling aurora one feels in the Metro, but this is only a surface feeling. The RER has its own ways of sniping at people who shouldn’t be in the confines of its tunnels, and if you thought the Paris Metro was dusty, think again. After leaving Line D my hands (and face) were caked in the freshest tunnel dust. The hands were one thing, but coughing up dust phlegm and potent bogeys black as night was hilarious. I actually had great fun wiping them on Metro seats, spreading my boogery love with Parisians and Tourists alike.

The RER is a fucking maze in itself. Fortunately for us, Marshall is well versed in its confines and we ended up on a few missions through some peculiar transits. At one point we found ourselves into the alcoves of Ligne 1 – Robo-train territory with driverless trains. Walking through the RER is easy enough, the walkways are thin but wide enough to run if an oncoming train arrives (despite the lack of alcoves) and the trains are powered through overhead wires, much like the newer metro systems popping up over the world. Walking on tracks underground with no 3rd to worry about is a fairly pleasant feeling. Shouts to Marshall, Qx, Dsankt, Vivo, Snappel and Siologen for the hilarity, fuckerie and mad jokes yo.

Photo: I think Siolo’s in the picture, RER Ligne D, Paris, 2011

Arsenal

Yaz — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 16:24:58 +0000

Not the English arsenal, It’s about fucking time I uploaded some shit from the super illegal files, and in that contains my dirty smelly stash of Paris Metro photos. I cant remember for sure but Arsenal, a stones throw from that big Bastille tower, never even opened as a metro. Something to do with WWII and shit, sorry, there’s no place here for history. But essentially because of that, Arsenal became a cheeky little hub of Paris’s sub-graffiti and a place for trackworkers to bunk off doing any work, as Myself and Smelly Australian Cunt Siologen found out the hardway as they walked in on us frequenting the station. They didn’t like us, and we didn’t like them; the feeling was mutual so we fucked off before they had the chance to chase us and inform the infamous French shitheads known as the RATP (with the French having a similar hatred for them as most English juveniles feel toward the BTP).

Hopefully more to come on the Paris front, so keep locked in and shit yo.

Photo: Me, Arsenal, Paris Métro, 2011

Magical Doors

Yaz — Sat, 14 May 2011 15:10:34 +0000

Magic doors are commonly found dotted around London, follow the magic faireys they know where they at.

Central Line , somewhere near the Hackney area, give or take a few miles.

Photo: tube hitters, Central Line, London (2011)