I make my boss look stupid.....

Thats the accusation I'm facing right now.... and I also dont respect my team members..... or something like that.

...and all from an e-mail from the boss.

The thing is I don't disagree, not entirely. I don't have any special powers to make my boss look stupid, just plain old "stating the bleedin' obvious" is more than sufficient to outline his inability to find his own arse with both hands.

and as for "team" members, well. Lets just say the ones I don't respect are the ones who last saw employment selling shoes..... or in more specific cases, counting bricks on a building site.

blah blah lar di dar...... we've heard it all before. I'm not gonna look for a new job, its far too entertaining watching the whole thing tear itself apart. If it comes to it, I'll document the entire HR encounter here, in this corner of reality I like to call home..

Musical accompaniment to this post: Morcambe & Wise, Bring Me Sunshine

Arse....

I really cant think of anything to write about. Several ideas have been started then erased. Maybe I need another cap of Tramadol?

Some of the subjects that have been erased from this very space in the last 30 mins.

1. Xmas day Lunch and why I'm not having one
2. As an amateur misogynist, what I miss the most?
3. The tranquility of not having a family to argue, shout at, and lie to during Xmas
4. My 10 year old bottle of Port
5. My new batch of Chilli
6. Nurses dont understand a mans chest hair
7. Is my Xmas tree really that bad?

I want to punch people

So what now?

Months, no YEARS of mental negotiations with myself to get to where I was on Friday morning, 2 days before a major operation..... and I'm not gonna mention the pain.

To cope with it I've had to shut down parts of my life so I could muster the positive mental state I needed to be in. I've been through almost every conceivable situation in my mind so I can prepare for recovery on my own......
for example, have you ever thought of what muscles you use when going for a dump? I have, in minute detail.
How about getting to a shower or bath..... or perhaps getting food in from the supermarket..... even coughing has to be pre planned and organised to military precision.... don't even think about socks/shoes.

So, what now?

I have a mental void bigger than any IBM Manager I could mention. Everything in my life had been postponed and now I find myself being pinched from all sides almost immediately.
I'm being asked my opinion on whether or not Em's mom should get married to the fella she's currently arguing with, work expects me to jump straight back into the fray....... all I wanna do is yell F*%K OFF as loud as I can to EVERYONE I can.

Would it be such a great shame if I karked it on the Op Table? Well.... no (it's at this point I should tell you that I'm not looking for sympathy, nor is it a cry for help, this is me being very very pragmatic.... and extremely f*%ked off... So don't go calling the Samaritans or asking if you can have my CD collection as its not gonna happen, I'm not that lucky)

I certainly would prefer to go that way than how-ever-many-years as a cripple and dying an agonising death in a shit stained hovel only to be found 3 weeks later cos the neighbours are complaining of the smell...... again

Going on the Op Table has many benefits, no recovery time, less tax to pay and if radical Muslims have got it right, a hareem of young beautiful virgins at my disposal.... not to mention Em would be the sole beneficiary of a not too shabby payout (thats if her mother dosent piss it up the wall first).


think I'll go shout at passing cars... .maybe wave my cripple stick at them too.

Management intervention saves the day

HEADLINES: Impending flood at HAL Weybridge office averted by management intervention.

The Environment Agency issued a "very possible....... probably, you never know" flood alert within the Weybridge/Addlestone area. Businesses within the area should "do something or other" to prevent things getting damp, moist or just plain wet.

In response, HAL management convened an emergency meeting at its Weybridge Offices to decide on what should be done about the flood warnings

The plans revealed by its spokesperson involves several senior managers standing at the banks of the Wey Navigation, pointing and instructing the flood waters to cease its advancement and return to the hills from whence it came.

"Operation King Canute will deliver results that are in-line with our business model and will achieve double-digit flood reduction" said a spokesperson.

When asked why the operation had been named after a legendary 11th century King who failed to turn back the tide the spokesman replied "we think the King had the perfect answer, hence the adoption of the name, he failed [King Canute] because he wasn't an "Officer Of The Company" and therefore didn't have the necessary authority"

The spokesperson then added.

"Expectations for success of Operation King Canute are extremely high but should the Operation fail we will instigate our contingency plan which includes a DSG (designated scapegoat), a large sweeping brush and an already lumpy carpet.

New title

New title, or if I were in marketing, had no soul and the morals of pond life, I'd probably call it "Re-Branding".

But for the grace of God......

Anyhow, I've done it. Gone is the Lobster that served me so well in the early days. No more will "Breakfast" be put on a lead and walked down the street.

Instead I now have what I think should be printed on almost anything that has a value to most people. Be it a new car, that house you've saved all these years for, the new born child, the job and career, and the most important of all documents, the marriage certificate.

All need to have the *Happiness not included stamped somewhere. Just as toy manufactures have the disclaimer "* Batteries not included" stamped on the package to inform the stupid and careless that their latest purchase actually needs electricity to run. I think we need to inform the masses that happiness is seldom listed as part of the ingredients and never in a binding contract.

The content wont change, it'll still be full of half thought out notions, ill conceived rants, self pitty emotive and possibly libelous posts.

So, let me know what you think.

No....

Emily
Lodger
On Call
Club Rideout
Phone Calls
Post
Debates
Visitors
Family Visits
Emails
Video Games
Whispering
Arguments
Cooked Meals
Coffee
Wet bathroom carpet
Nobbly Bobbly's
Conversations
Clothes
Deliveries
Shouting
Commitments

"What did you do this weekend Dave?"

"Nothing, and it was everything I Imagined it would be"

I'd like to thank....

Well, looks like I'll be moving to a new gaff next week.

This has all been going on since early January, but I've not really blogged about it..... mainly because of my inherent bad luck when making something public knowledge... so I've kept my gob shut.

As it stands at the moment I've had a mortgage offer, the sellers have accepted, dates have been confirmed and there's a large bag of money somewhere in south London with the sellers name written all over it.

But the best bit of all? it'll be all mine! (in 25 years time that is).

There'll be no soul sucking woman in the background waiting for the moment when she can legally take everything I own, make me bankrupt, have me thrown in jail for frowning and making her "fear for her own safety" which will enable her to take my children to live with some fat idiot in a house paid for and furnished by me.... all with the full backing and support of the legal system.

So, I'd like to thank the following people for making this purchase possible...

My ex wife: for making me see how shallow, greedy and dishonest one human being can be.

Emily: for being so special. It made me put a lot of fear to one side so she can eventually have something to call her own.

Chuckie: for pushing me mentally to get this done.

My Financial Advisor: for not laughing too much at my predicament and helping me through this minefield.

I really have nothing useful to say...

If it looks like I'm doing something else, or I don't answer you when you expect, its probably because the implications of telling you to go take your pointless blabber somewhere else would cause difficulties I'm too lazy to fix.... so.....

As a guide, these are the things I'm simply not interested in...

You
Your boyfriend
Kent
Your new job
Your old job
How you're feeling

It's a broad list, but I think it covers most things you have to say. Basically, cutting out anything that involves you talking about yourself should reduce global greenhouse gasses by at least 20% ..... and possibly your ego by 90%.........


If only you came with a mute button

Gerry Anderson is innocent

Steve Irwin: Self professed "Crocodile Hunter" died during filming.

I'm no fan of this fella, I just feel for his two children who now have to grow up without a father.

I've got nothing against wildlife conservation, and I too love wildlife documentaries, but there's a breed of presenter out there now that is taking the piss..... and one of them was Mr Irwin.

You didn't have to be the sharpest tool in the shed to work out where his career was heading, it was only a matter of time before Mr Irwin rediscovered the true meaning of "Dangerous" & "Wild" when pissing around with these animals.

Some say Mr Irwin taught us a lot about wild animals...... I don't think he did, I already know that snakes, crocodiles, lions, tigers, spiders.....(basically, anything that lives in water or in the jungle) and now, Stingray are the main reasons some of us developed larger brains and now live in gated communities and drive around in LandRover Discoveries.

Mr Irwin tried his best to sensationalise these animals by performing stunts, he even involved his month old son at one point. He became famous not for his unrivaled knowledge of these dangerous creatures, but for the guy who "just might get eaten live on TV"


.

Pete Moore found in a pool of his own vomit. Thats a lot of vomit, even at the shallow end.

I had a call this morning......

"Hi, thought I'd better let you know that Pete was found drunk and unconscious this morning and was taken to A&E in Liverpool..... I think he'd been to a gig"

Eh? Pete Moore? Drunk? Hospital?.......... Liverpool?........ why tell me?........ which gig?..... who'd he seen?......and what the feck is that smell*?


Oh, I get it, its a dream!...... bollocks, now I'm gonna have to wake up, I'm gonna have to make sense of this, there's no way I can continue with this dream, its just too weird.

It is.... weird. I don't usually remember my dreams, the ones I do remember are usually to do with family or musicians.... and they are nearly always shrouded in oddness and mist. But this morning it was all in HD-Ready-42"-LCD-Plasma vision.

So, Pete, if you could shed some light on why I'm being woken in the early hours of the morning with alarming news like this, then I'd be very thankful.

Picture: Pete Moore just before setting off for Liverpool to see Peters & Lee in concert......in my head.

*smell: sweet tobacco, like a pipe.

I have distemper, parvo.... and a huge infestation of worms

At what point in your life do you stop controlling yourself and begin "Who You Really Are"?

I say that because no matter how I try I simply cant help telling it how it is.... I seem to have a ceiling for how many fuckwits or arseholes that get in my way, and when that number is up I simply explode and shower everyone in the vicinity with vitriol and bits of spleen.

It's not getting any better, in fact its getting worse. As I get older I'm attracting arseholes quicker than a tub of vaseline outside a public toilet. They are everywhere, where I live, where I work, where I bank, they stand in front of me at the checkout, they use the elevator to go one floor..... they know my phone number and e-mail address... they are even in my shaving mirror.

So, is this just me? Have I reached that certain age? Like an old mad dog, should I be chained to a post in the back garden? half blind, half lame, left to bark for hours on end at empty crisp packets that dare to invade my domain?






To be honest, I'm there already. I'm just waiting for the vet to turn up, hypodermic at the ready.

feck...

My PC's buggered.

First, my system drive passed away..... then the mother board died of shame. Of course, being in the industry and knowing how dodgy hardware can be when you really rely on it, I took all of my collective 20 odd years knowledge on backup principle and procedure and totally fecking ignored it.

So, I got a hammer and reduced my Shuttle XPC back to its component parts..... then spent 45 mins picking silicone and capacitors outta the carpet..... it's at times like these I wish I still had a wife to slap.

Live people ignore the strange and unusual

What the hell am I doing here? Sometimes it's like I've woken from a twelve year coma… colostomy bag fitted and unable to walk due to muscle wastage….. a dribbling idiot, unable to quit describing something that should of stopped a few badly constructed sentences ago.

I think I'm having withdrawal symtoms from Antihistermines..... I got an itch inside my bladder I just cant reach.

It's consuming my every thought....

He's gonna have to go.... probably

I simply cant be arsed with anyone under the age of 25, they are just too high maintenance.

Who am I talking about? well, its the new "flatmate". He's just a bloody nightmare and will have to go.... even tho' I've already told him he'll have to leave by the end of June (for other reasons). I may have to revise that to the end of next month.

I cant be wandering around after him picking up his dirty plates, cleaning the kitchen after he's used it and cleaning out the shower after he's been in it. Not to mention having to empty his clothes from the washing machine because he cant be arsed to do it himself.

I've told him once.... in the nicest kind of way, but I'm in two minds as to whether to tell him again or just give him his notice to leave.....I really don't want to have this hassle at all, I've much more serious things to think about

I've already had to restrict the amount of PC's he got on at once (only 1 DHCP address now active).... he's got a multiscreen PC under his desk in the living room along with a Multi Media Mini PC which is switched on over night and when he's away, not to mention his laptop in his room. It's like living with a teenager, constantly having to remind him to switch off lights, PC's and ovens (yes, he can retrieve his food from the oven but unable to switch it off).

It's a lack of respect and common decency. I'm no teacher, but if any of my kids turn out like him, I'd be ashamed to let them outta the house.

Put down the cigarette and move away from the ashtray.

Smoking in public places to be banned...... Drinking on public transport to be banned.

All this and Mr Moore's post are more that responsible for the following outburst.

Hmmm. smoking eh? so, something that takes on average about 50 years to kill ya is being systematically outlawed by our caring loving government…. while in a town close to you a student is downing-in-one a £10 bottle of peppermint flavoured vodka followed closely by mindless acts of random violence and an alcoholic induced coma and death…..

But at least his clothes won’t smell (the peppermint will mask any vomit odour), he wont have added any asthma-wheezing dwarf children to the population and his sperm will still count into the millions. His neighbours food wont taste of fag-ash, coughs will be dry and infrequent and ceilings throughout the land will remain pure Dulux white ….. best of all, in his last coherent thought before succumbing to a peppermint flavoured death rattle, he’ll have a Roy Castle free conscience….

I’ll have to stop, all this excitement has me wheezing and my next oxygen delivery isn’t until the weekend.

Put down the receiver and move away from the phone....

Some people just don’t get it do they? You know, that mental line drawn in the sand where sanity ends and a Hitchcock thriller begins.

Some years ago after an argument with an old girlfriend, I left and went to stay at a mates gaff. I can’t really remember what I'd done to upset her, maybe I'd been whistling on a Tuesday or something but whatever it was, it was heinous enough for her to call me on my mobile phone.

After the seventh non answered call I put the phone on silent, placed it on top of the TV (I wasn’t going to miss throwing scatter cusions at Jamie Oliver for no one) and laid bets with a mate when she would get the hint and stop calling……

Needless to say, we both lost the bet as my mobile’s battery went flat on her 35^th attempt…

THIRTY FIVE…. That’s three tens and five units in pre-school money. I’m no psychologist, and I don’t have any formal mental health qualifications that would sooth the dangerously bewildered…… but I do know a loony when it drains my mobile’s battery.

The reason I’m recounting this incident is that the woman concerned has repeated the same act of madness…. Not on me of course, but on another more recent boyfriend… admittedly the bloke in question has no sense of humour, stature, or indeed the ability to shave his own gibbon like body to hide his geographically challenged upbringing.

The result is that this woman was arrested last Tuesday for harassment.

I HAVEN'T STOPPED LAUGHING SINCE

Get off my telly....

This post is influenced by a comment I received by Pete Moore about abuse from minor celebrities…

Pete said...

Lynam called you a wanker? For doing a three-point turn? Well! My estimation of the man has certainly taken a turn downhill.

I've never been sworn at by a minor celebrity.

But I do shout "fuck off you annoying twat" at the TV whenever Howard the Halifax Building Society Man appears.

So, here is a list of the personalities that over time have annoyed me for various reasons and result in things being lobbed at the telly.

Jamie Oliver: No one has ever incited me to mindless violence more than this abomination to the human race. From his first TV appearance as the Naked Chef the fat tongued burger flipper has annoyed me. His piss-pot helmet and cheap twist-and-go (to hospital) moped and banister sliding antics just distract the audience from his poor hygiene and shoddy cooking abilities. To bolster his flagging career he’s sickenly chosen Children’s schools meals to champion. He made such a song and dance about it he’s managed to take an admittedly poor service and bankrupt it as most schools have had to cancel lengthy catering contracts with huge penalty costs. “Pucker mate, lovely jubbly”

Ted Rodgers: This fat jowled presenter of the atrocious game show 321 would have me foaming at the mouth during the mid 80’s. How many times did I want to break his stumpy little fingers as he mocked the nation by showing off his ability to do the 321 finger salute….. anyhow, he’s dead now.







Denise Van Outen: Denise suffers from an acute misguided belief in her own self importance and good looks.










Ainsley Harriott: Another burger flipper…. I don’t really dislike Ainsley at all, although he is nothing more than a cook and does big-up his part but I guess that comes with the territory of someone with very little talent. What really gets on my tits is his unfeasibly large grin…. With a bit of luck, one of these days the top of his head will come off while exhibiting his basking-shark like gape.




So, who gets on your tits?

Latest Score: Sofa's 3 Delmonti 0

After 24 years of being abused by women I decided to opt out of the “must have a wife, child, white picket fence” idea and file it away under “Marketting Bullshit”.

It’s just that for me, it’s unobtainable… or should I say, the end game is unobtainable, you know, the “…and everyone lived happily ever after” bit.
I seem to have no problem with the getting married, joint mortgage, huge amounts of debt for soft furnishings and electrical goods part of it… That comes rather easily. The trouble usually starts with the women in my life deciding that living in a safe, secure and relatively happy lifestyle is just not enough. That’s ok, these things happen. You brush yaself off, and start again….. or do you?
How often is this supposed to happen? How many houses do you purchase? how many TV’s DVD players and sofa’s are needed before you eventually find someone who can be satisfied with their lot?

Of course, it’s not the material possessions that matter, given an infinite amount of living on the breadline most crippling debts can be paid off. What takes its toll is the emotional side of things. Eventually, you become disillusioned. Thinking that you may be trying too hard, or perhaps there’s other more intricate problems which you’re missing?….. It can seriously feck your head up.

I must of spent over 13 years trying to evaluate where I’ve gone wrong…. I mean, it must be me who’s wrong….right?

Well, the answer is….. No…. I’m not the one at fault here. I don’t shag around. I don’t smack people around, I don’t piss all my money up the wall or gamble my house away and I’ve never lost a job to the evils of drugs……

So, in the interests of sanity and the fact I can no longer sustain woman-kinds need for white goods, half the house and part ownership in the dog I’ve decided to hang my happy-sacks out to dry.

“People……. It’s been emotional”

5k rig at my funeral...please.

Funerals are so depressing, awkward and sometimes bloody inconvenient..... but unfortunately, inevitable... even for those non-smokers who seem to think they are immortal.

I've been to a few funerals... and knowing the person who has passed away they never seem to get the kind of music they would of wanted... And what makes it worse is the appalling quality of the sound system being used. No one is to blame of course, not the family, not their friends, not the Church or the Crematorium, it's just the way it is.

So no flowers for me, put it towards the rental of a 5k rig to be installed at the Crematorium..



...and the music? well, as long as Mr Blue Sky by ELO is played at least once I can safely let Goober pick the rest.... he knows like no one else.

Petrol ban for wearing a hat...

A recent report by MCN suggests that in future all motorcyclists will have to remove their helmets if they wish to purchase petrol…..The reason for this? Well, according to BOSS it’s so the cashiers can tell if they are over 16 or not..

Fat hairy knackers is what I say to that. There’s no way I’m gonna take the time to remove my helmet just so some illegal asylum seeker can see if I’m old enough to buy fireworks yet.

Power Ranger

If you came across me while I’m on my bike, dressed up in leathers like a Power Ranger , sitting on a 10k hyper sports bike would it seriously cross your mind if was old enough to legally shag your sister? No, you wouldn’t. I’ve a myriad of ways to confirm my age and identity: credit cards (you need to be 18 to own one), driving licence (17 years old to own one), blockbusters card and even a membership card to the local sex shop (and I havnt even begun to mention all the noises, grunts & groans I make while getting on and off the bike)…. But somehow this just isn’t enough to pay for a tank full of juice.

Quadrophenia

My solution is simple, if they allow me to fill the bike up (which they always do) and they start treating me like I’ve just been released into the community from a maximum security facility then I’ll simply tell them if they want paying for the petrol they can bill me at my home address as I slip my name & contact details under their re-enforced bullet proof window.

Today’s biker is generally middle class with more disposable cash than a Columbian drug runner, so why treat us like extras from Quadrophenia?