New post will be up shortly. It’s pretty crap, but no one reads this anyway
(This is a message I sent to Nandos via there website this afternoon).
Dear Fernando (I like to address people by there full god given name, I was brought up not dragged up),
I am sure you are an extremely busy man, so I will get straight to my point; after a recent visit to your little eatery I am quite frankly appalled by your establishment and in particular the service I received. Fear not though, I believe, no, indeed I know for a fact, I have what it takes, and the skills required that your small restaurant so desperately needs. You will be pleased to know Fernando that I do not ask for much in return for my expertise, just a chair, some paper, a couple of pens, food and lodgings for my family. I am so confident of my new appointment that I have resigned, with immediate effect from my post as a dog walker for the rich and famous. I told my employer where to shove their job, I then proceeded to set fire to their cockerspaniels tail. But even as I was driven away in a police van, I was on top of the world because I know, soon I will be working for you. Apologies I have not started work with you sooner, the wife and I have just spent 2 weeks lost on the Yorkshire dales, and we had to be rescued by a man with a ferret.
Here is my experience at your restaurant, and I am sure you agree it was not sufficient:
It was a bitterly cold Tuesday afternoon, my wife and I went to the bank for a meeting with the rather obnoxious bank manager, to try get a loan, unsuccessfully, for my second great business idea. After the gambling den aimed at that neglected area of the market, the under 16s was rejected, I came up with another genius idea. The Great British sewing bee, but for the under 10’s. Apparently, according to my idiot of a bank manager, that’s very similar to something called a “sweat shop”. I think the bank manager misunderstood my idea, as they would be making not just sweaters, but t-shirts, jeans anything that Primark requires!
We were in the area, despondent and absolutely hank Marvin, and being a serious diabetic, my blood sugar was low, and I was wobbling all over the place like a drunken man with Parkinson’s. We decided to pop in to your establishment. The good lady and I normally go for Chinese, I do love a Chinese, but you will never convince me that a chicken fried that rice!
Before I met my wife I never had a problem with saving my hard earned pennies as I simply didn’t bother with it. But now I am more choosey with where I spend my money (the wife is a real drain on my finances), and luckily for you I chose your establishment. I met my wife at the perfect time in my life; I was looking for a nice girl that I could take home to my mother so I didn’t have to talk to her anymore, and just like that, 7 years later, there she was, looking above average, in the line for the job centre.
Unfortunately for me, little did I know at the time, she is one of those ‘vegetablists’, and as my interest in grass eaters is on par with being molested by a drunk uncle, I just let her get on with it, I don’t ask and she doesn’t bore me with it. She has this habit of mentioning it every time she meets someone new. At home we eat separately. (She was not always abnormal; she became one of those ‘vegetabletarians’ after having a bad experience that involved her dad and a chicken. She refuses to talk about that night in question, but from the little I know, it involves a barn late at night, her father, chicken, loud noises, the police, the RSPCA and a judge. Her dad is now in prison, in a cell on his own for his own protection, and her family had to move away from the local area when she was just 12 years old, it’s all very sad. Her father had his tongue shot off only a year before that in a hunting accident, it was awful, but he never talked about it. I personally, could and would never condone animal cruelty, violence or abuse towards animals. That’s what red haired children are for. On reflection the family were glad to get rid of the farm, after 20 years in the farm industry and realising the only difference between being up to your knees in animal waste facilitating the big supermarkets requests and kneeling on a piss soaked floor of a rest stop bathroom giving £10 blowjobs to men named Barry, is the amount of urine on the floor, it was time for them to give up I suspect and move to pastures new.
This may explain why, more often than not, the old ball and chain can be such a sour faced cow (It could be the fact that unfortunately she can’t have kids, ‘Baron Karen’ she is known as round our way, which is odd because she is not even called Karen! Such is life. I always thought when I was 41, that I would be married with kids, well to be honest I thought I’d be married with weekend access, but hey such is life)
I flat out refuse to be in the kitchen when she is “cooking”; the site of that meat free stuff positively makes me heave my guts up. Once I was in the kitchen making myself a bacon sandwich, and as we can all agree, it is the king of sandwiches, and the old ball and chain said with a smug grin “why don’t you try this Quorn bacon? It’s just as good as normal bacon” with a swift back hander, I put a stop to that nonsense. Have you honestly ever seen a Quorn piece of bacon? It looks like the inside of an old ladies’ flip flop. I mean what is Quorn mince? It looks just like cat litter. I love my cat, Sir Henry Chumlington, but I wouldn’t want to eat his shit!
You have to understand Fernando, My lady wife gets very tetchy from time to time (just this morning my wife and I argued about gardening, despite neither of us being in our late seventies.) I would say it’s because she is going through the “change”, but I am afraid to say that moment has long since past. Between you and me Fernando, everything picked up and moved south long ago, the phrase “spaniel’s ears” often comes to mind when I talk about my wife, I can’t go in a pet shop anymore.
Sometimes I am utterly perplexed by my darling my partner. One moment she will say something really profound, and totally catch me off guard, then within a matter of minutes will say something that makes me think she is mentally handicapped. But despite my loathing of her, I love her dearly and just want her to be happy. You see Fernando, Love is like a fart. If you have to force it, it’s probably shit. Being married is certainly preferable to the dark days before I met my wife, sitting alone watching adult movies in my 1 bedroom flat. The worst adult movie, and there are some truly terrible ones, I have ever seen was titled ‘Debbie and me summer 92’. which was still inside an old video recorder I found when I moved in. while it contained lots of nudity, and very little dialogue, apart from Debbie complaining continuously about cramp and at one point the overdue credit card bill, they were both extremely overweight, breathing like they only had one lung each, and well into there 50’s so I could only handle around 63 minutes or so before ejecting in disgust.
Anyway, I digress Fernando; Needleless to say I have not been that disappointed with an establishment since I went to a gathering where I thought you could drink in secret, away from your spouses prying eyes. Alcoholics Anonymous really should change their name! Some people seem to think that going out for a meal should be a simple process, but with a little bit of planning and a lot of determination on the part of your staff, you ensure it is a painful process for customers like me. But with my expertise we can change all that Fernando and make this place a success!
We didn’t bother ourselves with looking at the menu that was placed outside the door, I got distracted by a big poster advertising Mission Impossible 32, and I had a little chuckle to myself, its not really mission impossible if he’s already done it 31 times is it!?
We were greeted by a girl with what looked like a bolt, the type a bull would wear, through her nose, she had a big name badge on, I wont tell you that her name was Chantelle for the sake of anonymity, she probably needs the job to feed her 5 kids by 6 different fathers, all called Daz. I, for the sake of hiding her identity will just call her ‘grumpy’. She seemed rather annoyed by my interruption of her ‘standing against the wall looking cool’ time. It is understandable though that ‘grumpy’ would be outraged by this intrusion into her Facebook and looking out of the window time. She spoke in grunts (or Geordie, I can’t tell which), and was dead behind the eyes.
When I was a nipper, I had a lady friend like that once, she’s in prison now. She was always a bit unstable, and from the reports in the paper, it seems she had, what was termed a ‘psychotic episode’ and went on a rather mad knife rampage through our local Farmfoods. When I say rampage, she screamed a lot of nonsense about how the Farmfoods prawn ring was the main cause of Global warming, and threw a Roll of Andrex at some small child’s head. The knife was just a plastic picnic knife, you can’t even spread butter with those. To be fair to her, she wouldn’t even be in prison if she had not called the judge a “massive hoofwanking bumblec**t’ However it is very satisfying to see that you are an equal opportunities employer. Well done Fernando, if you won’t give these people a chance, then who will?. On a more positive note, the music was very much to our taste, as we walked in Sir Cliffe Richard was playing on the wireless. It brought back wonderful memories of my wedding day, not to my current wife, no that day was truly awful, I mean to my 6th wife Shaniqua, what a woman!!! I love Cliffe, whatever anyone says, he definitely did not touch any of those children. I was worried for him, I was worried that he might pack it all in and kill himself. If he did unfortunately decide to hang himself, would the headline in the paper be “Cliff Hanger”? I should write for a paper, I will do all your marketing Fernando! My lady wife and I strolled in arm and arm and I asked ‘grumpy’ for the wine list, to which the response I received from ‘grumpy’ left me in shock and totally speechless, she called me a ‘dog bothering twatbag’ which I presume is some kind of Geordie slang, but nevertheless her tone suggested it was an insult.
I do love the Geordies, when I was younger my sister had a friend who I had a huge crush on, she was as you could say my first love. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. When I was younger my sister and the object of my affection, Georgia was her name, would often have sleep over’s, I used to hide in the wardrobe and listen to their conversations. But they were always pretty dull, often about boys. Only a few weeks ago I was in my local B&Q and this girl came up to me and said are you Roger? and I said “depends who’s asking” we had a bit of an inane chat, I explained how if your cat is dirty, it is perfectly acceptable to put them in a washing machine on a gentle spin cycle. She looked at me like I was a retard before telling me that she used to be a friend of my sisters and remembered me. She asked if I was still so annoying, letting out a little chuckle as she did so. I asked if she still touched her nipples thinking of James Thompson. After a long pause, I asked her out, but she said no.
I did notice a number of your eloquent diners kept saying that your food was “cheeky” Cheeky this, cheeky that, which I have to say confused me somewhat. What is it precisely that makes your chicken “cheeky?” I have personally never seen a cheeky chicken, although I did once meet an arrogant goldfish. He was my first pet. My parents didn’t trust me to look after the puppy I really wanted, so they said we could start at a fish and work upwards. It was a sad day when he died, that was the last time I cried, I did shed a tear at Borat, but that was not a full on cry, I am a man after all. My mother had put him on the window ledge, and the sun heated his water until he boiled to death. Rest in peace little Henry. We had a little funeral in the garden for him that night, my dad said a few words, and we buried him in a hole I had dug with a spoon from the kitchen. 1 year later my father dug him up to make room for a Jacuzzi. He ended up in the bin.
‘Grumpy’ asked if we would like to eat outside, in the new ‘al Fresco’ dining experience, a sort of street food vibe I believe the young ones call it. But I prefer to eat inside because I am not homeless. At that point she just pointed to a table and said sit over there, distracted by the fact a couple of what I presume were her friends came in. Lets just call them ‘Dwarfy and fatty’, they gave each other an embrace, but then I guess I shouldn’t be to surprised really, if you put fifty children in a room with down syndrome, there’s going to be lots of hugging. The only way ‘grumpy’ could have redeemed herself at this point is to find Madeline McCann. After a few minutes ‘grumpy’ came over and asked if there was anything else we needed to let her know. Well as it happened my car was in for a service that day and I was wondering if, seeing as we were good friends now, it would be OK to borrow hers for the day. I hate catching the bus; they are full of poor people who do not own cars. She said ‘no’, what sort of customer service is this?
Sorry to say Fernando, You seem to run an entirely hope based system at your establishment, your processes seem to consist of hoping nobody notices, hoping someone else gets blamed, and hoping the managers have enough servers to meet demand. Unfortunately after waiting 30 minutes for our tap waters, which were at the same temperature Henry died in, it seems your system has failed.
Your menu is chicken, it is literally just chicken. The menu needs expanding, you are showing no ambition! This is not indicated clearly enough on your logo! My wife was in total shock. The first thing I will do in my new job is to change the logo of your establishment; I will bring my designs with me on my first day, I have a very artistic streak!
Luckily, my wife always carries a Linda McCartney (one of the Beatles ex-wives, not the one with one leg, I don’t like her) sausage with her, I don’t know where she keeps it, and I do not want to know. But all I do know is that it’s always half cooked when she gets it out. I asked grumpy if she would kindly do me the honour of cooking this for my lady wife, as she was famished. I was met with a firm ‘no’. So much for customer service Fernando, your little establishment will never expand with an attitude like that!
In the end, my wife watched me eat half a chicken, and some soggy chips. The poor love nearly passed out from hunger. In hindsight I could have given her one of my chips, but I had paid for them, she could have brought her own! I tried one of your hot sauces, in the rather futile attempt at giving your chicken some flavour. Now I like hot food, so I was thoroughly enthused to try your hot sauce. Oh my Lord, I have been to Africa on safari where the seasons there basically consist of ‘shit its hot’ ‘can you believe how pissing hot it is’ ‘ I wont be into work today its too pissing hot’ ‘ its so hot even the camels want to come inside side.’ But this was hotter than the sun. My mouth was on fire, I had to sit with an ice cube in my mouth for 7 hours! Incidentally while we were there I read a headline that said ‘pink hippo spotted in Kenya, and in my head I was thinking that this is the last time I take the wife on holiday.
But in your defence Fernando, chicken is a very healthy food, and with all the fat kids around, we need to help them shift that fat, being fat makes it easier for paedophiles to catch them! I myself am also on a bit of a health kick at the moment. I joined a local gym just down the road from me. To be honest I originally joined the gym with full intentions of attending every few days, but after waiting in vain for someone to offer me steroids, I began to suspect that this was not going to happen, and the realisation that I may have to exercise instead, was frankly, horrifying. I myself am a fabulous cook; my chocolate covered fish fingers are a particular favourite at dinner parties. I know all foods from all across the globe. But strangely during my visit to your restaurant I did taste the most interesting of foods. From what I recall from your menu, its name was ‘brocley’, it looked like a small tree. It was rather unusual, but nonetheless, delicious. I would very much like to get hold of some of this ‘brocley’ and would be most grateful if you could provide me with a list of stockists.
Your food was a good 4/10, but with the service, and not so warm welcome we received, that could possible drop to 3.7 out of 10. I tucked into my chicken and my wife chomped on a big half cooked (vegetable) sausage. My other half also drank a coconut water, which again she had smuggled from somewhere about her person. I went to my nanas funeral the day before and I can safely say that id rather drink what’s left in her lifeless bladder than coconut water. Decisions like this are reasons to break up.
We had had enough, the day was a total washout, and like any girl dating Tom Cruise, we desperately wanted to escape. I tried in vain to catch ‘grumpy’s’ attention so we could pay our debt, but she was too busy hitting a small child. So in the end we just gave up and left, without paying, thoroughly unsatisfied with our afternoon. My wife was so unhappy that she has fallen into a deep depression, from which she may never recover.
Overall Fernando, lots of areas of improvement and I look forward to the challenge,
starting early next week!
See you Monday!
(Just to prove I did send this )
I now have facebook and that!
“send starving people in Africa jäger bombs and heroin, they will forget they are hungry and have a fun time” someone call Bob Geldoff
I got bored and decided to send an email to my former employer Kaplan, pretending to be a rambling old man making a complaint: (all company email addresses I have erased)
———- Forwarded message ———-
Date: Wednesday, 20 July 2016
Subject: Fw: Mislead!
On Wednesday, 20 July 2016, 18:50, “email@example.com” <firstname.lastname@example.org> wrote:
Dear Kaplan (If that’s what you are really called)
I would like to formally lodge my displeasure with your company.
Recently the wife and I have been having certain marital problems; I won’t bore you with the full details, but suffice to say it is in the bedroom department.
Anyway to fill the long lonely nights, the wife suggested we get a kitten. I wasn’t overly keen at first, I mean, the reason that we didn’t have children is because we didn’t want faeces and vomit all over the house (My stomach turns just thinking about it). But the old ball and chain slowly wore me down and reluctantly, I agreed.
Anyway, my good lady wife had heard your name mentioned somewhere, so we popped into town to see if we could find a feline we liked. Suffice to say you could not begin to imagine our disappointment when we arrived after travelling almost 8 hours from the total paradise that is Nuneaton , only to find you supplied books for accounting nerds. My wife had sworn on her grandmas eyes, that your online ad had said ‘cat land’
My wife was inconsolable at the news. It was particularly hard when you consider the fact that my wife is disabled, she has uncontrollable narcolepsy. I find her condition is particularly bad when it’s time to go see my mother, for her famous Sunday roast (I particularly love her carrots, roasted in butter and chocolate spread, delicious. I had lunch with her recently, during which I tasted the most interesting vegetable, from what I recall its name was ‘sellary’. It was rather unusual, but nonetheless, delicious. I would very much like to procure some of this ‘sellery’ and would be most grateful if you could provide me with a list of stockists)
I myself, also have a serious medical ailment, I have one foot bigger than the other, and I don’t just mean half a shoe size, I mean one is a 5, the other is a 10, The ‘yoof’ of today stare at me, but I am used to it now. It makes it extremely difficult to get life insurance both Lord Telmer and Lady Pelving are at a loss.
I had to take her for a very expensive lunch at ‘restaurant’ called Nando’s just to calm her down and stop the mild panic attack she was having, luckily I always carry a paper bag for such a crisese and I had not budgeted for such an eventuality.
In hindsight, taking her to a chicken restaurant was not the greatest idea as she is one of those vegetabletarians. This ‘Nando’s’really should be more clear in their signage, but that is an argument I will take up with them another day.
Suffice to say I will be sending a bill of expenses in due course. Also suffice to say although my wife’s emotional distress may never disappear fully, thanks to your poor branding; the introduction of Shaniqua the Chinchilla has helped to take the edge off somewhat.
It also gives me space to partake in my passion, table tennis; I am a table tennis nut! I play about 4 hours of everyday of the week, every month of the year (except November), every year. I just love it! It’s such a wonderful little game don’t you think?
I am also looking to go into business. I am planning on setting up a gambling den at my premises within the next few months. I am aware that competition is strong, and have been thinking long and hard as to my ‘way in’ and now I have it! I plan to open a very first gambling den that will corner one area of the market that has been, until now, completely untapped: the under 16s!
On a side note, my cousin Larry is looking for some ‘snazzy’ head gear for his first trip away with scouts. He is utterly convinced that you are a retailer of so -called baseball caps and you are called ‘Cap land’. He has promised to pop in this week. Please let him down gently.
I look forward to hearing from you,
I read a blog once by someone who had bought a scarf and he went on for about three hundred paragraphs about his scarf and where he bought it and how it made him feel. The last time I bought a scarf I wore it. End of story. I didn’t write a novel about it.
I got on a bus the other day and the driver said to me.
“Going any where nice sir?”
I reply “does it look like it? I’m getting on a fucking bus
You know what they say about buses, you wait for one bus…. And you wait and you wait, and you wait a bit more, and the case of Arriva Yorkshire you carry on waiting till hell freezes over or at least Men in vests become morally acceptable, and you never have any clue what time the bus may turn up, often just when that fat tattoo riddled bus driver can be arsed ( i am not the fittest but I am fairly fit due to regularly thinking about jogging and i once performed a jumping jack. It was unintentional and involved a spider but it still counts) or what time he finishes screwing some hooker he picked up in some dark alley on one of his rounds.
Isnt evolution amazing! One minute they’re swinging through the trees, the next they’re driving buses. I have heard that People who drink on buses will be barred from using them again. All very good in theory but eventually they’ll run out of drivers.
Now most people would say it is men that drive too fast, and women are the careful and considerate drivers, that may generally be true, but I tell you, in my experience it is those scary lesbian looking ‘women’ that are the worst! They look at you like you broke into their house on Christmas day and pissed on their kids, every time you set foot on the bus; they look like you are putting them out in someway, like it is a big chore to open the door to a paying customer! And seriously do not get me started on actually trying to paying for your Delightful journey. Is their anyone who actually knows how much their fare is supposed to be? It is pretty much different every time I step on that bus, like a shit game of Russian roulette, don’t have the correct fare and you die, another reason why I really need to start learning to drive.
Jesus and if you have not got the exact change, bloody hell you are basically in the shit, they look at you like you have just drowned some kittens! You may have a fiver, and your bus faircould be £2.80, oh but that is not good enough for Wendy the semi-professional wrestler behind the wheel. Despite not ever knowing how much the fare is, you MUST have the correct change or there is literally no chance of hopping on the over crowded, flea pit, surrounded by people who look like they have just escaped from Chernobyl. People who look like they have just eaten Greggs, i don’t mean a few pasties, i actually mean Greggs, the whole shop, bricks and all
While I am on the subject,
Curvy girls think that they’re fat?
Fat girls think that they’re obese?
And Obese girls think they’re fucking supermodels?
People who between them have as many teeth as I do in my whole mouth, whose teeth decided to abandon ship, in anticipation of the large amounts of special brew that they were likely to be drowned in, and those few who are lucky enough to have 3 teeth or possibly even more, look like the teeth are writing the suicide note, after all no one else on the cesspit of a bus can write. People who count as benefit day as ‘payday’
After 17 years out of work, I’ve finally got an interview next week.
Me and the wife are guests on an episode of The Jeremy Kyle Show called “My Husband Is Britain’s Laziest Scrounger.
These people need putting down but I was taught never to make a threat unless you are prepared to carry it out, and I am not a fan of carrying anything. Even watching other people carrying things makes me uncomfortable. Mainly because of the possibility they may ask me to help.
To give you an idea of what Yorkshires ‘Bus Operator of the year 2012’ clientele actually are like, imagine the scene, It’s a dark stormy night, Doctor Frankenstein is desperately trying to get his hideous and chilling monster right, he has raided the local cemetery of dead bodies, he has chopped them up and sewn body parts together in the hope of creating a living thing. Mean while next door, there is a big fuck off explosion in JD sports, and all the cast off’s get cover in Addidas trackie pants, and Reebok classic shoes. Then a Farmer comes in and spreads cow shit all over them… and you are somewhat close to the type of people I am talking about.
Anyway as you can imagine getting on the bus at least twice a day is always a thrill, seeing all those happy smiley gums, who could want anything else in life. In fact it may not really surprise you to know that I have had my fair share of run ins with bus drivers, one rather jumped up meff actually took my lunch off of me once, I am deadly serious, I had a salad from Morrison’s which was just across the road from my stop, and he refused to let me on in case I ate on the bus! Now I understand not eating, but it was not even open, because I could not be arsed actually trying to communicate with the bald chimp, I just gave him it and sat down. So I stumbled to the back of the bus as he set off rather quickly (he did that on purpose too) to find a guy genuinely injecting something into his arm!
‘Excuse me you can not come on this bus with a salad you might spill it and get a slightly unripe tomato on the floor’
‘Nah mate it’s just a bit of smack, i’m gonna get of me fuckin tits man’
‘Ah no problem sir, have a lovely day’
Is there any other profession in the world where you can basically turn up anytime you like and it does not matter?
Now the amount of times that these particular buses,i say buses, it’s the 229 from Leeds (sue me Arriva), either are late or do not bother to turn up at all, really takes the piss, it is not just occasionally, it is everyday without fail. The bus turning up on time is rarer that a unicorn or a 12 year old girl who did not meet Jimmy Saville. So I have come up with an idea, you tell me if this is fair… for every minute those miserable cock gobblers do not turn up we can deduct 20p off (our often made up) fare? Sound reasonable? I thought so too!
So with an idea worthy of dragons den in my head, I went onto the Arriva website, I was genuinely shocked to see that if a bus is 5 minutes late, or even 1 minute early then you can get on for free!! Seriously have a look at the bottom of this laughable customer mission statement
Arriva customer promise ‘We value your custom and welcome customers from all communities that we serve. Here we have outlined the quality of service that we promise to deliver to you:
• We aim to ensure that you have a safe, comfortable journey on a clean, well-maintained bus
• You will be able to identify your Arriva bus by its distinctive turquoise and cream colours• The route number and destination of the bus will be clearly displayed• Your bus will be driven by a professional wearing a uniform• We will always endeavour to be helpful, courteous and treat people with respect
• We are committed to providing a range of good value tickets, so that you can choose the one that suits you best
• Information about the times of Arriva buses is available from this website from traveline on 0871 200 22 33 If you wish to be kept up to date with information about your local bus service, including any promotions, please let us know via the ‘talk to us’ section on this website
.• We will make it easy for you to tell us what you like or don’t like about our services via our customer services hotline 0844 800 44 11. This number will be displayed on all our vehicles. Feedback can also be provided in writing: please refer to the Talk to Us section for further contact details
• We will respond to comments made within 10 working days of receipt and will keep you up to date on progress in the meantime
• We try to run all buses on time. However sometimes things outside our control, like traffic congestion or road works, might affect your journey. We will work with others to reduce the impact wherever possible
• If your bus leaves early or is more than 5 minutes late and we are to blame, we will offer you a future journey free of charge. Should this be the case please contact our customer services on 0844 800 44 11
Now the important bit here is ‘if we are to blame’ the greatest get out clause in history ‘no it was not my fault, the hooker I paid for was shit at blowjobs so I took ages to finish, and I spent £5 on that’
Anyway…there is a point to all this, I was sat on the bus (which makes a change as usually I have to stand) on the way to the White Rose shopping centre, and I was thinking, seriously why is there no strict rules about who and who can not get on the bus? Why do normal people, well relatively normal ones who don’t drag there knuckles along the floor, or tuck their pants into their socks, have to put up with listening to bloody Rhianna on the bus at full blast, while some thirteen year old girl takes a break from telling her friend ‘Chardonnay’ how she got fingered at Steve’s house, to sing along to her favourite part of the song? like she is one of those fruit loops on X-factor (what is with all those sob stories! a friend of mine once auditioned for the X-factor, so to give him a better chance i flushed his fish down the toilet and shot his mum)
So I came up with a few rules which I thought I would share with everyone, and who knows, if people like it we could change the world!! To day the 229 service, tomorrow the world! Ok maybe a bit too much there, but as Martin Luther King said ‘I have a dream today’ although I was a bit Adolf Hitler ish in my dream just then… That’s a name that has died out…Adolf, weird.
Anyway as I was doing some shopping, not in the same way ladies do their shopping, mine was just walking past the shops, having a look in the window and quickly deciding there was nothing in the shop that I liked, to be perfectly honest I think that I only went there for the Nando’s chicken! Arghh the perks of no longer dating a vegetarian. It reminds me of a joke I heard from a really rather sick friend of mine, now apologies in advance…
Women are like buses. You often get funny looks when you wank on ‘em. (Sorry mum)
I do feel sorry for the Guys in here. They all look exhausted, from being dragged round every shop by their Mrs, constantly having to lie, and say that their significant other looks fabulous in everything they try on, even if they look like roadkill. You can literally see them all stood outside the shop looking at their watches, getting more frustrated by the second, I mean it is dinner time on a Sunday, there is 4 hours of football on, its super Sunday for gods sake. All the blokes give each other either a knowing nod or a forced smile, they are all in the same boat.I sat down and had my chicken, just people watching, I do love people watching, I can never tell what people are saying but I like to make up my own back stories for them.When a good looking girl walks past a group of maybe 4-5 girls, they suddenly all stop what they are doing, like a group of Meercats, and just stare, they look her up and down to try and find fault with her. Then as soon as the pretty girl is out of earshot they embark on a massive bitch fest. It’s just the way with girls, it is like a drug to them, they have to bitch it comes as naturally as breathing. The amount of times I have sat with girls who are quite happy to slag off friends and work colleagues, then as soon as they see them it is like nothing as happened, like they are best pals. Now be careful here men a strong word of advice here, just because your Mrs will slag off her friends over and over again, in no way make the mistake that you can join in! oh no, you cant, she is quite happy for you to listen to her tell you how her friend looked like a pig in a blanket at that wedding, but if you say anything at all in agreement prepare for a barrage of abuse! Prepare for the ‘she is my friend not yours’ speech It is the greatest hypocracy in the world and there is nothing you can do about it. That’s the thing with you women, you are a mystery, and you say that men do not understand you! No you are right we have no fucking idea! None what so ever! Now girls is there a right answer to the question that every man dreads… and I mean every single man in the world…. Do I look fat in this? This is a trick question gents, refuse to answer it, do not go down that road, and do not even attempt to answer. It can only end badly. And trust me, if you get stung by this question once, you will never in your life make the same mistake again. If you say no, she will think you are ‘just saying that’ and she will just go get changed anyway thinking that you lied to her, so now she thinks you are a liar. If you say yes, well basically prepare to have your balls stuck in a vice and be castrated with a rusty spoon.Us men need to accept we will never win, it is like the war in Vietnam, winning is just not an option, it is best to roll over and play dead.
Now as I was sat at that table, this is truthfully the conversation I over heard, now I can guarantee any man who reads this will have had the exact same conversation, it is guaranteed, it went something like this…
‘Are you ready to go home babe we have been here 5 hours’‘But I have not got anything yet’‘But we have been into every shop’‘Can we just go back to the first shop again; I think I want to get that dress’
Amazing, there are just no words sometimes ladies.
Anyway, I made a few rules for the bus, she if you like them…
1. All passengers should be sniffed before coming on board – if you can not be arsed to get your self in the shower then you should not be allowed on. Why should I have to sit gagging at the back of the bus because you smell like your dogs ball sack?
2. Men with long hair just get off the bus – if you are a bloke in his 50s and you have long hair, you need to have a long hard look at the life you are living. Until you get it cut you are not stepping foot on this bus. If you are going bald as well cut off that little rat’s tale! You are not fooling anyone! you look like you touch young boys… Jimmy Saville had long hair..
3. If you do not have the money to get on the bus do not haggle- this is not a market in Morocco, you can not barter with the bus driver. Would you go into Tesco’s and haggle over the price of a can of coke? No, now fuck off you tight c**t
4. A bag is not a passenger – if you have a bag, do not put it on a seat, especially during rush hour. A bag is an inanimate object; it will not mind being put on the floor. Get it off the seat and let someone sit down. Did you buy the bag its own little bus pass? No, no you didn’t.
5. If you are lucky enough to get a seat on the bus, sit on the seat nearest the window – if you are lucky enough to have the 2 seats to yourself, do not sit on an isle seat, I will ask you to move, and I will deliberately brush up against you all the way home.
6. Being a woman does not entitle you to a seat – I know it is controversial ladies, but unless you are so old you can hardly walk and no longer in charge of your bodily functions, being a lady is not a reason you have to ask me to leave my seat. It has happened a few times and I will continue to refuse. Its just equal rights ladies, you wanted the vote, and equal pay, well then you have to give up some privileges. After all I would rather see a pregnant woman standing on a bus, rather than a fat woman sitting down crying
7. No prams or pushchairs at rush hour – if you have had a ‘happy accident’ and need to take the bus, then there are plenty of hours in which to take your delightful daughter or son on the bus. If little baby Chlamydia (it sounds strange, but genuinely one of my friends who is a nurse had to stop a parent calling her daughter that. The ’mother’ said she thought it sounded exotic I kid you not) push chair takes up 3 seats then you will be kicked off the bus. But you will probably not notice, because you will be to busy playing candy crush on your brand new iphone that i have paid for
8. If your baby screams shut it up – if your child, your little bundle of joy, or your ticket to sky plus, however you want to look at them, cries and screams on the bus, do something about it. The amount of times these so called young ‘rough as a badgers arse’ mothers just ignore a crying child, while they talk to their friend Britney on the phone, describing in painful detail have they got gangbanged in a field, or just gave a hand job to the guy in the job centre to get a bigger house amazes me. My ears are bleeding shut the thing up! On a side note to that, if you have a babies ears pierced you should be thrown of the bus by your pubes!
9. Do not talk to me – I have my headphones in for a reason.
10. No music – I do not mean people with headphones, I mean those complete tossers who think it is cool to put there speaker phones on and sing at the top of there lungs? What’s the best that could happen? You think Simon cowells car has just broken down and he has decided to take the bus? No he hasn’t so shut the hell up!
11. if you are really fat buy two tickets – I am sorry but being fat is not and excuse, why should I have to sit with my head up your sweaty armpit and facing your ‘Moobs’ just because you say you are partial to a bit of cake ‘now and then’? I feel sorry for fat people on buses though sometimes they put the widest seat right at the back.
My mate pulled two girls last night.
“They’re like buses,” I said.
“What?” he said. “Because you wait for ages then two come at once?”
“No,” I replied. “They are like buses.”
Another rant over with,
David started at out company a couple of months before I did. He was the first thing I saw when I walked in. I thought he was the janitor, he was dressed like a homeless person, and smelt like a homeless person who had shit himself, then rolled around in a bucket of sweat. After approximately 7 minutes I realised that his actual job was as a potted plant. David or ‘Dave’ as he liked to be known has the personality of a brain Damaged gold fish, he was so far removed from reality I am not sure if he had an active imagination, or he was on meth. We never really got close, mainly because of the stink, but also because we had nothing in common. He was the type of person that wrote his name on all his office stationary, who would be anal about your time keeping, even though he was not the boss. I received a couple of warnings for taunting him, one was Sticking all his beloved stationary down with super glue and laughing so hard I had to open the window for fresh air. Dave’s main skill was wearing shirts the same colour as the office walls, he is also an expert at sitting very still. Before he started working with me he held a variety of positions including standing, crawling lying down and standing on tip-toes.Dave once saw a horse. Dave’s favourite sport is Jenga; His favourite music is that which he creates himself by humming and clapping.
Anyway, Dave is currently single, but hopes one day to marry his mother because she has ‘childbearing hips’.
Dave has been single since he was dumped by his girlfriend, after she ran off with her ski instructor while on holiday in the French Alps. I know this because Dave confided in the office gossip that he was having ‘relationship issues’ so everyone knew with n the hour that she had slept with a sexy French ski instructor.
I have never been skiing. Speeding down a mountain, probably drunk, towards big rocks, while posh people high five each other, while saying woo, is something that surprisingly, has never appealed to me.
Dave has been even more miserable than normal due to the “incident”. I have had enough and decided I have to do something about it. Internet dating is all the rage, so I have signed Dave up to a couple, and over the next few weeks ill be posting conversations I have as Dave. The profiles I set up will go something like this…. He is on Tinder already…
First name: David
Surname: Will not give away that information for security reasons
Star sign: Glotten, the dyslexic elf.
About: Non-Smoker with cuddly body type
Details:35 year old male, 6′ 1″ (185cm), Religion is stupid
Intent: Looking for a relationship 1 hour a day, don’t be so clingy
Personality: Sith Lord
I am Seeking a: Woman or a woman like Ork
For: Some loving
Do you drink?: Yes I brew my own cider, its the best in Leeds
Marital Status: Single
Do you do drugs? If I have a headache I take some Paracetemol
Pets: A Few spiders in my Basement, named Paul, John, Ringo and Steve. Head lice.
Hair Colour: Labrador blonde
Do you have a car?: No I have a push bike, with a roomy basket and a bell
Do you have children? Probably
Longest Relationship: Always been a player
How ambitious are you? I want to rule the earth and one day I will, come join me and be my queen
Turn ons: Vengaboys, Bill Shatner, room temperature, flicking light switches in a smooth motion. Getting my hair ruffled by a cool northerly breeze.
Turn offs: long queues at the post office
Eye colour: Hypothermia blue
My ideal woman: I am into many different types of women, all colours and races considered. The only exception is Asian women, I find them hot when they are young, but they don’t age well. I am preferably looking for women with 7 piercings in each, a slipknot tattoo between her toes, but I can be flexible with the amount of piercing pers ear. I love toast, I get through around 2 loafs a day. It’s real toast, slightly burnt. I need someone who can make toast, not just warm floppy bread that someone has just sat on. I do not want anyone who just wants to use me for my body!
Weird Crush: Des Lynam
Strangest experience: Being robbed by a pre-op transsexual.
Favourite sexual position: The risk. Where you look at your porn after your mum says your dinner is ready, trying to climax before she come up stairs because she thought you didn’t hear her.
Favourite way to relax: Some loud death metal, a bath with candles and Lavender infused bubble bath so help me from a stressful day dragon slaying.
I’m Dave,I love world of war craft, I love the fantasy aspect, I have such a vivid and creative imagination, my favourite character is Dobbie the house elf. But in the free hour a day I have after I have finished slaying the evil Voldermort, I would like someone to stop me being bored. The photos prove I live a fit and active life style. I am never short of female attention, I kiss lots of women. Sometimes we eat pizza and debate which is better, Star Wars or star trek? But as we all know it is Star Trek, only and idiot would like Star Wars, but mostly we kiss. I have been told my beard and moustache tickles when I kiss, which the ladies love, my breath smells of pizza, and who doesn’t love pizza? I love the beach and was probably a jellyfish in a past life. I like to go to the gym at least once a week, as my dad works there stocking vending machines. I love German cinema, my favourite German title is currently ‘Gunter does Dortmund’ I have not managed to finish it yet as my mum does not go out much. I get many offers so you have to do something very impressive to stand out, and many girls becoming infatuated with me so quickly. Often a girl would tell me that she would rather have her arms ripped off than live with out me.
Everyday I go for a hundred mile jog along the beach and swim back. I have been asked to do male modelling, but I am to busy jogging swimming and having lots of girlfriends who I kiss. I do not want to be responsible for girl buying the magazine and having her boyfriend turn homosexual. I did have a cat named Hermione, but she is no longer with us bless her soul, but her memory still lives on, I had her stuffed, after I took a part time taxidermy course on YouTube. She has pride of place on my mantelpiece.
My ideal first date: My idea first date would be meeting at the KFC of your choosing. We would both be wearing a red rose, so I knew who you were. We would share a Bargain bucket with extra gravy, on a quite table surrounded by candles, I would pay my half. We would get our laptops out and battle it out to the death as Level 52 hobbits. The winner would make breakfast in the morning. If I lost I can safely say my mum will make us the best eggs in town, although you would be expected to wash the dishes after, it’s not a hotel.