... and I'll have it in a cold glass please.

I've been reading quite a lot of tributes to John Peel, and it was his own words that made me laugh so much. Here are a few of his best one-liners and general musings. My favourite is this one:

It is my duty to warn you that in the next few hours you may be exposed to language and concepts you find unsettling. If this is the case I suggest you turn over [beat] and here's fuckatron, on cunty records, with "I sodomised my dad"

….. and now it's happening in mine.

Just my luck really. The day after simon-m.co.uk goes into the great internet re-cycle bin, and I swap the image files over to the taxdodger's server, his server goes tits up. This leaves me with no images again. Ah well, never mind, after the Arsenal 4th team give us a good spanking tonight, all thoughts of images and servers will be lost in a drunken haze.

Update: Everything should be back up now.

Every once in a while…..

Something comes along and shakes you out of your usual habits, it rattles you and makes you think about life.

I was driving to Newcastle when I heard on the radio that John Peel had died. It was like a punch in the stomach, all the memories started to come back, sat in my bedroom listening to his show, hearing new bands and forming musical opinions that have stayed with me ever since. I have to admit that over the last few years I haven’t taken enough notice of the music he was playing, that’ll be the prejudices of nearing 40.

A lot of people owe him a debt of gratitude, and I am one of them.

Thanks John.

The obligatory drunk post.

I’ve been “tasting” different drinks at my mate Nick’s, we had, in order:

1. Australian lager.
2. 10-year-old Brandy.
3. Tesco’s finest Armagnac
4. 17-year-old Calvados.
5. Swedish beer (from Ikea).
6. Swedish vodka (from Ikea).
7. 10-year-old Tawny port.

I’m fairly well oiled and in need of a good old rant.

I fuckin hate blue lights on the front of shitty little fucking cars, why do they have them ? Even worse than that, the ones that have blue lights under the fucking car ! The bastards.

Twatting parent and child spaces at the supermarket ! Why should they get special treatment ? They’ve got no spare cash, it costs a fucking fortune to bring up a kid, I’ve got disposable income, and I have to park three quarters of a fucking mile away. Then there’s the disabled spaces, I saw one bloke park in there, was he disabled ? Was he fuck, he ran in through the doors to avoid the fucking rain.

The woman at the café brought Tracy a knife and fork. No problem there I hear you cry…. She had ordered soup !

Hello ! Three customer service. (heavy Indian accent).
Hello, I need to tell you that you’re sending my bill to the wrong address.
What’s your three phone number ?
I can’t remember.
Ok, what’s your post code?
CA blah blah blah blah blah.
CS ?
CA.
CS ?
C A.
Ok, I’ll put you through to the relevant department.
Hello ! Three contract. (heavy Indian accent).
Hello, I need to tell you that you’re sending my bill to the wrong address.
What’s your three phone number ?
I can’t remember.
Ok, what’s your post code?
CA blah blah blah blah blah.
CS ?
CA.
CS ?
Click Bzzzzzzz.

Fucking wank stained cunt-burgling shit munching arse mongers.

You just haven't earned it yet, baby.

I had an interview at the jobcentre plus, that’s what they call the dole office nowadays. A nice lady went through the large forms had I previously completed, just to make sure I had done it properly and to check the myriad forms of identity I had been told to take along with me. Before the interview started I told the lady that I probably wasn’t entitled to any money until after the 3rd of December, which is when I have been paid up until, and that I was claiming now to ensure my national insurance payments were looked after. After forty minutes perusing my forms and scribbling little notes in the margin, she said: “You probably wont get any benefits until after the 3rd of December but we will process your claim now to ensure you get you national insurance paid”. Forty minutes I’ll never fucking get back !

I was then handed over to another nice lady who has the task of finding me a job; she gave me another form to fill in, and explained everything to me very slowly. The form was really a contract, my part of the deal is to look for work, their part is to do everything in their power not to give me any money. The interview ended abruptly, and I found myself wondering when I get my government issue Burberry cap, swallow tattoo on my neck and the instructions on how to get a nice sallow complexion.

So now I have to write, telephone or visit one prospective employer per week. It’s no fucking wonder there are so many people out of work. What’s wrong with writing, telephoning or visiting all the places you can think of, everyday, until you get work ?

I am a one in ten…

I no longer work for a multi-national chemical manufacturer !

I’m going to do something completely different, something that doesn’t involve getting up at five in the morning, or staying up all night. Something that gives me more of a sense of achievement, fuck it… something that pays more. I am one week into a re-training course. It should be an interesting next few months.

I was made redundant along with ten others, the ones that are left are expected to do the work of all those axed, as well as their own. Not bad I suppose in an organisation of hundreds, except, before the downsizing axe was unsheathed there was only 37 on the whole site. I feel sorry for the survivors.

I wonder what the future has in store for me.

Morons with jobs #1.

Things that are keeping me from blogging:

1. My Open University end of course assessment.
2. My recent redundancy (more on that later)
3. Retraining, starting tomorrow.
4. Trying to read King Rat by China Meiville.
5. Taxdodger’s recent stay with us.
6. Planning the fitting of a new kitchen.
7. Trying to sell the Coupe.
8. The design of at least two websites.
9. Writing for another place.

I really haven’t had a minute. I am still reading every blog on my list, but sometimes I feel it’s a little strange just dropping the odd comment in and then sodding off for ages.