Spooky Possums

As per usual I don't really have much to make an entry about (no that's not a euphanism) very little at all in fact. It's just I couldn't help noticing it's Halloween. Again.

Mind you what could be more 'spooky' than this haggered old lady-boy.

I tell you what is interesting though was I had a Turkish shave today. If you haven't tried one, you simply must. Stubbly men, bearded ladies it's an absolute pleasure!! I got an all over massage, the works. Oh and a shave.

I think I'm done. Yes that's it. Over and out.

Of course it's never over, but often out I've noticed.

Bri-Bri Baby

12 years. 12 years I'd gone without the mention of the words Bri-nylon. Then last night after a brief discussion about decades, my flat mates made me say Bri-nylon.

1994 was the last time I uttered those words. Trust me I know. It was Ms Stevensons A-Level Performing Arts class. We were putting on a play about the life of Philip Larkin. I didn't write it. Obviously.

But back to my flat mates. Sods. They might have well have pinned me down to the floor and put me in a baby doll. Except they could never have done that. They're far too feeble. The case in point, the Bri-Nylon counter is now set back to 1. Day. Bastards.

The Sun'll Come Out To Moro

I'm not trying to name drop, yet somehow just by saying that, it's exactly what I'm doing. It's a no win situation. Except it is. Last night my gorgeous friend Kate and I managed to get bar seats at this snazzy London restaurant. I've been trying to get a seat there for a long time, maybe it was my glamorous companion that finally tipped fate in my favor.

It was then that I thought, 'hang on' the reason they must get booked out is because people must always book early. Ingenious. So I asked the surly waiter (obligatory I think in a restaurant like this) if I could book for December. Bingo. I pretty much had the run of the restaurant to choose from. I tell you what there's going to be some pretty envious patrons pushing their nose against the window come December I can tell you.

What-A-Zoo

For some reason when I was up at 6am this morning to go to the gym, I noticed a postcard of a horse pinned to our notice board. As I ate my cranberry miniwheats I couldn't help but notice that the horse looked a little like Agnetha from Abba.

Stranger still as my bus sped me towards the gym my mind kept going back to the image of the horse and what other animals might also be good dopplegangers for Abba. In fact it's been pre-occupying my thoughts all day, until now, frankly I shouldn't be allowed near Photoshop if this is the kind of crap I'm going to come up with.

That aside though, it did tickle me as the image came together. A colleague at work suggested that I should ask readers to make suggestions for animal related Abba puns, or suitable animal alternatives to the famous four. The gate is open, or rather the zoo.

Friday Is The New Friday

I've never quite understood people saying Thursday is the new Friday, or White is the new Black. Surely not, this would throw a world of order into disarray, well mine at least. I'd have to use Times New Roman instead of Trebuchet - font of choice thank you very much. I'd think I was making a cup of tea only to find it was actually coffee. I'd have white hair, it's all too awful to contemplate.

Mind you guys and gals this would make an interesting point of discussion don't you think? A bit like a game of 'what if' meets 'consequences'. Discuss.

There's not really much of a point to this entry to be honest, it just struck me on the way to work this morning as I contemplated my few beers out last night. Oh and I also wanted to welcome Joe90 and Cornish Rambler into my links list, notable blogs I'm sure you'll agree. Well Cornish Rambler at least. I mean anyone who chooses to call themselves 'The Vessel', arrogance.

BILLIE JEAN

And here's is the other!

Lionel Richie all night long

Here You Go poppets!

Billie Jean All Night Long

Yesterday as I was searching for Michael Jackson's Thriller video on YouTube I found the Billie Jean video, it's a classic song so I decided to have a watch and listen. Now I have seen the video before, but not for a long time and what struck me as I watched it was there were certain elements that reminded me of Lionel Richies' All Night Long video (also a classic tune and my karaoke piece). So I promptly downloaded Lionel as well, my god that video is so camp it's hilarious, but if you watch them both you'll see what I mean!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlFC70EFBQQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWKscUdAWpQ

So my next task is to do a remix of those two songs together, watch this space!!

Auto Telling Machine

I think 'The Worlds Local Bank' probably has it's headquarters in Royston Vasey.

I was in a queue at the bank yesterday when quite a scary lady approached me:

"Can I help you at all?"

I was slightly taken aback, firstly at being approached by a woman and secondly... well being approached full stop.

"Er yes, can I use the ATM's to make a transfer between my accounts?"

"Certainly sir, follow me, let's see what we can do"

'Is that some kind of challenge?' I'm thinking,

this lady was clearly in full auto mode and running what ever customer service training efficiency program had been etched into her brain to the word. All smiles, jokes, 'just don't' I thought.
"I just need to stand over your shoulder while we do this okay otherwise I can't see the screen, ooh easy don't let me see your pin"

I couldn't quite believe how falsely happy and smiley she was as she talked me through the whole procedure. I tried making a few comments that I thought might evoke a more natural, conversational response, but no.

It was only afterwards as I thought about our little interaction that maybe she didn't work for the bank at all. No she did, I clocked her badge 'Sandra, happy to help' I think ASDA have those badges too... wait a moment. No seriously, I thought 'hang on' she was only trying to be happy and helpful - a rarity in this country. Maybe we Brits have got so used to poor service and unfriendliness that this is what we have come to expect.

It's like when you learn about change management, initially there is hostility to anything different from the status quo. This could be the start of a new age of customer service. But then again in the latter stages of change management comes acceptance and I sure as hell don't want someone like her as the norm.

The Not-So-Fun Bus

I'm not one to complain. But. I was thinking today was one of my better days for journeying to work. The bus arrived as I got to the bus stop, there were seats (unheard of) and the guy I was sat next to only moderately smelly.

Even better this was the 341 - bing - the only bus that takes me straight to work without the need to change (honestly more than one bus and I soil my pants). Sounds great doesn't it? Ha yeah you'd think wouldn't you.

Well at Angel the bus decides to turn down towards Kings Cross - hang on just a moment this bus is for Waterloo, isn't it? So I go downstairs at the next stop and find I am not the only bemused passenger on the bus. The driver decided not to inform anyone that this bus was no longer the 341 to Waterloo, but now the 476 to Euston. Thanks guys.

Oh by the way the photo from this post comes courtesy of some random site called Christian Bits, I found it on google, marvelous. It's the Veggie Tales School Bus, now you can be Christian AND a Veggie. But not gay.

Black & White

I was at work yesterday and took a quick break to make myself a cup of tea. Being the polite guy I am, I asked my colleague if he would like one.

'Can I have a coffee?' he says,

'Certainly, how do you like it?' I reply

'Er..black... with sugar' he answers.

'Righto black with sugar' I confirm.

'... and milk' he adds.

'black with sugar AND milk is white' I say.

Is it me or is that not the most ridiculous request for a beverage?

From Russia With Lust

Friday nights for me are usually a trip to the pub straight after work, stay there until I'm ready to go home, go to bed, pass-out. Well I guess that still happened on Friday, except I didn't go to the pub straight after work and I didn't pass-out in my bed. Before you ask, I stayed with friends in East London (nice house guys).

So what did I do immediately after work on Friday? Well it will probably come as no surprise to my friends that I went to the gym. Just for a swim, but to my dismay the pool was busy, so I decided to reverse my usual routine and start in the sauna, boy am I glad I did.

There were two beauties sat there in next to nothing just chatting away in a foreign language. I sat down, composed myself and tried to concentrate on the wall. Almost immediately Beauty 1 (let's call him Blondey) asked if I wanted to squeeze in next to them on the higher seat, I politely declined and they carried on chatting.

After a while I couldn't resist, 'excuse me' I asked 'I hope you don't mind me asking, what language are you guys speaking in', dammit I should have used the word tongue I thought. Beauty 2 (let's call him Brunettey) tells me they are Russian, and that in Russia 'we have sauna's everywhere, do you mind if I put more water on coals?'. 'No, why not, of course, go ahead' I reply oh-so-coolly and so promptly pours the whole water bucket on the coals, despite the sign on the wall saying 'half a ladle at a time please'.

The back of my throat and my eyeballs feel like they are being dry-cured and as I struggled to maintain my composure Brunettey asks me if I wouldn't mind telling him the temperature. Of course in my mind I'm singing 'it's getting hot in here...' 'er' '90o', Brunettey tells me 'in Russia it is usual to be 110o' at which point Blondey pipes up 'and if you are lucky you will have a friend who beat you with sticks, like Birch branches'. I'd like that punishment, I thought.

We continued to chat for a bit, whilst I gently crisped. Then they left, the moment they were out of sight I made a dash for the pool. So it seems to me with pleasure there comes pain!

Use Your Words...

I think what Jon intended was a compliment when he told me he thought my blog was funny. Prolific. That was one word he used, now I know what it means I've decided to do a double entry. Quiet everyone.

He said it's nice, you don't use too many big words - just to paint a brief picture of Jon he's got a far greater grasp of the English language than the muck that comes out of my mouth (stop sniggering) - Simple. Funny. He said. I took it as an insult.

You know i'm not even sure I know what the point of this post was any more. In fact I might award myself worst post ever. Well it's a challenge then isn't it.

Footnote: I've just spell checked this and blog comes up as a spelling mistake. On blogger, that is ridiculous.

Come Again?

I just asked a guy at work if he reckoned one of the girls (sat next to us with headphones on) was a cum slut. To which someone else in the office was appalled. Was that wrong of me?

As readers are aware I usually like to add a picture to my posts. Somehow I think a picture for this story might be inappropriate.

Puppy Love

Friends may or may not know this, but I am bit of a dog lover. Sadly though, living and working in London as I do, it's simply not possible for me to own a dog.

Now I'm not usually one for those charity adverts on TV, you know the ones 'your 2 pounds a week could buy little Johnny a new pair of legs for 6 weeks' or 'Cystitis; there is a cure'. To be honest the ad for the Dogs Trust was quite appalling, 'all Smudge wants is a new friend', dammit! It's as if they could read my mind 'that's all I want!'.

So the short of it is a week later I'm now sponsoring Lazloe (pictured), bless him, here's what it says on his profile:

Despite my macho looks I suffer from lots of allergies which makes me very
sensitive. But it doesn't really bother me, I'm a happy hound and love it here.
Unfortunately you won't be able to visit me but I'd love it if we could be pen
pals

I particularly like the last bit, I've sponsored a wonder dog, he's actually going to write to me. He's smarter than I am.

I'd Like To File A Complaint

I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with this, however, it really bugs me when women do their ablutions on public transport in the morning.

The woman in case this morning wasn't even on my bus, she was on the top deck of the bus we pulled alongside in the traffic. There she was scraping away at her scrawny old nails, debris flying all over the other passengers. It reminded me of an occassion when I'd been sat next to a girl on the bus doing exactly the same thing, except it was going all over me. Cow.

The noise it makes as well, it's awful, this constant light scraping noise. I know I shouldn't be so bitter and damaged (like her nails) but you'd feel the same if you were being flaked upon by a complete stranger.

I just looked up the definition of 'ablution' to check I had the correct word, I did, but I didn't realise I did. One defintion is 'to remove sins and diseases', that'll do me.

History Repeats...

As have my stomach and bowels over the last few days, uncomfortably frequently.

Today though I find a piece of history in my email inbox; a picture of me (centre left) photographed in the local paper when I was about 13, some 17 years ago. It was sent to me by my friend (centre right), who's mother had found the clipping recently.

It got me thinking, this is possibly the first evidence of my determination to work in the media. My friends and I had entered a national competition through the school, or rather a competition one of our nicer teachers had let us know about and encouraged us to enter. It was called the BT Young Consumer of the Year Award and we had to produce a short 5 minute film on a consumer issue.

What we came up with was 'THE BIG RIP OFF', a short film which highlighted how much packaging was wasted and left unrecycled on consumer products. We had the support of the local supermarket chains Woolworths, Co-op, Tesco and Gateway. We even managed to convince the local art college to let us use their video editing facilities, there we have it 1989 first evidence of me in an edit suite!

Well time went by and I had forgotten about the competition, then out of the blue I get a phone call from the school saying that we had come 2nd in the competition, to which I responded 'regionally?', my teacher replied 'no nationally!'. After hearing the news we each received a hand-written letter from Sebastian Coe (now Lord!) who was MP for Falmouth at the time, congratulating us on our achievement. I was quite chuffed.

So what you see in this picture is my friends and I being presented with a cheque for a whopping £75 towards school video equipment - we bought a radio mic as I recall! So thank you Matt and your mother for reminding me of where it all began, and how awful my hair was.