So… everyone is aware what I think of fat people. Not all, but most moan about how bad their life is while shovelling burger and chips in their fat mouth. I have instagram, and daily people who are on a diet plan are posting pictures of their “healthy meals” and how good they are at sticking to the plan, but yet never seem to lose any weight. Partly because the meals they post are usually pictures of pizza or curry or cake, but they call it a “cheat day” every day seems to be a cheat day for those lumps, most of whom have a body like a dropped lasagna. So I decided to piss off a load of these people by showing off my own diet plan.
(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 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, “firstname.lastname@example.org” <email@example.com> 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,
So ladies and gentlemen, Something was keeping me awake last night, was it the the thought of world hunger? the plight of the Panda? or the Double Vodka and Redbull i had before i went to bed? (I find alcohol solves all the worlds problems and eases my very small conscience) And so I got thinking about my blog, had I been to harsh on the people I see daily on my commute to work? Then I thought no, they are shit stains on the underwear of life. But I came to the conclusion that no matter what I write nothing could ever do them the true justice they deserve. So I have collected a few pictures, that i believe accuretly represent a good cross section of the people i get on the bus with, so you can make your own judgements ( I am not usually one to fill this ‘blog’ full of pictures, because frankly I am lazy and can’t be bothered, but I decided I would make an extra special effort)…enjoy
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.
So I was thinking about past relationships, and in general how societies nutters tend to gravitate towards me. As my mum says I “just have one of those faces”, when I remembered a few arguments I had while In the doomed relationships.
My ex girlfriend Rebecca could not, and will never be able to cook. She was capable of the process of cooking (sort of) but cannot cook in the same way that an octopus cannot ride a bike; it has enough arms to reach the pedals and handlebars but the result will rarely be a successful journey from A to B. She was also a vegetarian. You have to be careful what you say these days, apparently you’re not allowed to call a certain group of people queers anymore. You have to call them . I don’t have anything against , but the way I see it, our food shits and pisses on there’s.
I once looked over Rebeccas shoulder to discover her crumbling Alka-Seltzer tablets, or the cheaper supermarket alternative, into a meal she was preparing because “they are salty and we ran out of salt.”
“The nachos were a bit runny so I added a few cups of water. It’s nacho soup,”
“Is there even such a thing?” I asked. “And what are these bits in it?”
“They’re the crisps,” Rebecca replied defensively as she sipped a spoon of Nachos and made a long “mmmmmm” noise. “I put it all in the blender so there shouldn’t be any big bits.”
“I’m ringing for pizza,” I said.
“That’s not true” I responded, “I appreciate everything you do but if I ordered a hamburger at McDonald’s and they handed it to me in a cup with a straw saying ‘Sorry, it was a bit runny so we threw it in the blender and added two cups of water, it’s Big Mac soup’, I would assume the restaurant was entirely staffed through some kind of special needs employment initiative. If they asked me, “Do you want fries with that?” I sure as fuck wouldn’t reply, ‘Yes, mix them in.'”
“It would probably be quite good,” “but you would never know because you are too much of an asshole to taste it. Even if the guy at McDonalds spent an hour in the kitchen making it for you and burnt his thumb on a saucepan.”
While I was on the phone to my mother, as it was Mother’s Day, my mum jokingly, knowing full well what I am like asked if Rebecca found me annoying or amusing. Of course I said she found me a total hoot, Rebecca yelled from the kitchen clearly audible to my mum and no doubt half the street, “Don’t fucking lie.” My mum asked me “Was that Rebecca?” to which I replied, “No, it was the television” and Rebecca yelled out again “No it wasn’t.” On one occasion, I decided we should call in sick, so that we could spend the whole day in bed together, On Monday morning, as I was about to call my boss, using my best sick voice to explain how I could possible of attracted Ebola, Rebecca was watching a program called Breaking Bad in bed while I was making the call in the next room. Not realising I was on the phone to my hard asse boss, she yelled “We should build a Meth-lab in the garage.”
I came over to visit Rebecca after work one Tuesday, to discover a framed photo of our dog on our living room wall. I like our dog but when I am home, so is the dog. I don’t need to see photos of it. Especially if the photo shows the dog sitting on the couch that is immediately below the framed photo and the dog is actually sitting on that couch at the time.
Sitting down next to the dog, I grabbed a magazine from the table and flicked through until I came to an interview with tom cruise. The facing page featured a photo of Tom in a suit, sitting on a chair with one leg crossed over the other, holding a glass of red wine. Ripping out the page, I replaced the photo of the dog in the frame with it.
When I met
in a bar in Los Angeles, I asked him what annoyed him most about being famous.
“That’s easy,” he replied, “It’s all the libellous things that people write about me.”
And then he got down on his knees and sucked my cock.
Arriving home a short time later, it took Rebecca less than fifteen seconds to storm into the kitchen brandishing the frame and demanding, “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s Golden Globe award winning actor Tom cruise” I replied.
“Yes, I know who Tom cruise is, Where’s the dog?”
“It’s sitting on the couch,” I replied, “It’s always sitting on the couch. And having a photo above the couch of it doing so is weird. We may as well put a photo on the wall of all three of us sitting on the couch and then sit on the couch and look at it. Or put up a mirror.”
As she stormed back out in search of the missing photo, Rebecca said over her shoulder, “It’s not as weird as having a photo of Tom cruise on the wall.”
“I like Tom cruise,” I replied.
“Well I like the fucking dog,” Rebecca yelled back, “If you love Mr cruise so much why don’t you marry him instead. Then you can put up hundreds of photos of him.”
Which is a ridiculous statement because if I was married to Tom cruise and saw him everyday, I obviously wouldn’t need photos of him on the wall to look at. Also, if I was married to Tom cruise and we had a bare wall, we could probably afford a professional interior designer who knew what they were doing.
I’m still deciding what to write for my next post, in the mean time here is a bit about me.
Hello I’m Ben,
I read a blog once by someone who had bought a scarf and she went on for about three hundred paragraphs about her scarf and where she bought it and how it made her feel. Penned apparently by throwing a keyboard into a box full of squirrels and running the results through a quick spell-check. The last time I bought a scarf I wore it. End of story. I didn’t write a novel about it.
I keep telling myself that I should get fit but then I see people that I know and work with starting exercise routines and they become boring and talk about ‘reps’ and read out the amount of calories from food wrappers as if anybody cares. A year after going to the gym and becoming experts on the amount of water they should drink in a day, they are just as flabby as when they started but less interesting.
As I am constantly told I am too skinny, last year I paid £35 to join a gym. I attended twice. The first time for almost an hour, the second for only fifteen minutes when it dawned on me that a) the level of fitness of the people attending the gym was inversely proportional to the level of intelligence and that b) my instructor was not wearing anything under his Spandex bike pants and the wet semen spot would, in all probability, brush against me if I stayed there any longer. In hindsight, the money would have been better spent on takeaway food, alcohol and drugs. I am fairly fit due to regularly thinking about jogging and I once performed a jumping jack. It was unintentional and involved a spider on the bath mat but still counts.
I enjoy cooking, (except quorn, I refuse to eat something that looks so much like cat litter). My last girlfriend could not cook cook. She was capable of the process of cooking, but she cannot cook in the same way that an octopus cannot ride a bike; it has enough arms to reach the pedals and handlebars but the result will rarely be a successful journey from A to B. I once looked over her shoulder to discover her crumbling Alka-Seltzer tablets into a meal she was preparing because “they are salty and we ran out of salt.”
I like to watch films cuddles up under a duvet eating junk food on a cold rainy day.
Recently, I was tricked into watching The Notebook which was about geese. Lots of geese. It also had something to do with an old lady who conveniently lost her memory so she could not remember being a whore throughout the entire film.
If I had a monkey, I would teach it to sing Kylie Minogue songs. Then if Kylie passed out on stage again I would be able to save the day by having my monkey finish the concert for her. The concert promotors would probably give me free tickets and promotional gifts. Kylie would be so thankful that she might send me an autographed photo and I could sell it on ebay for fifty pounds. I would buy drugs with the fifty dollars. Not for the monkey, for me.
I do have a job (surprisingly) one of my old bosses had short man syndrome. I knew my first boss was going to be trouble as soon as I met him. He was small, and short men are almost always angry, horrible things. A woman being short is seen as cute, but a short man will never forgive the world for such a cruel blow. Small men hate normal sized humans. They wish them cancer and car accidents. They dream about being the size of an office block and stomping on all the normal sized people. Small men have fat wives with tight curly hair, and they are angry about that as well. I am sure there are many advantages of being so small. ASDA has and excellent range of boys clothing at competitive prices. If I was small I would buy a cat and ride it. now I am the highest earner in my office, Except on Mondays when I am the drunkest. Although I spend most of the day playing a game called ‘staring at the wall wondering what happy are doing’ and answering calls by either ending each sentence with ‘over’ like I am talking on a walkie talkie then making the ‘kchssssch’ noise or pretending to be a confused Chinese woman.
Each Tuesday I held a disco in my bedroom with strobe lighting and special guest. As my wardrobe door has a large mirror on it, it looks like someone is dancing with you. I once dressed as a lady and it was almost exactly what I imagine dancing with a real lady would be like. Unfortunately, I kept worrying about falling, hitting my head and being found dressed that way so she left after only a few dances and a brief kiss.