When you gonna go out and shine ?

It’s finally happened; I’ve started dreaming about my old places of work. The dreams usually go like this: I have managed to get my old job back and everything is back to how it was, even the shit things that made me want to leave, but I’m happy to be back because a job is a job. My brain is obviously still coming to terms with me not working. It’s now five months since I was made redundant, I need something soon or my head just might explode one night while I’m sleeping.

West Cumbria is a beautiful place to live, but it’s a crap place to look for work. Most of the manufacturing industry has been killed off, mines were closed years ago, and the steel works has just been fucked up the arse in favour of Scarborough. That leaves the chemical and nuclear industries. I think the secret handshake brigade pretty much run things round here, aprons have never suited me, so looks like I’ll be a doley for a while yet.

I need to find a big suitcase full of cash. I’d be a brilliant millionaire; I’ve loads of ideas for lazing about. None of this “I’m going to carry on working” for me. Anyone who says they would be bored if they had no job has a distinct lack of imagination in my opinion. There wouldn’t be enough hours in the fucking day for me to use, and that’s just a quick list off the top of my head. If I really thought about it I could come up with enough stuff to last a lifetime. The problem is, when you start thinking like that you soon get fed up because the chances of me becoming a millionaire are slim to none…….and slim just……sorry.

I must stop using clichés.
I must stop using clichés.
I must stop using clichés.
I must stop using clichés.
I must stop using clichés.

What I need is a get rich quick scheme; I wonder if some unsuspecting Far East businessman would buy Workington off me, I own it…..honest. If he gave me £30 for it (well above market value) I could put thirty lines on this week’s lotto. I’m bound to win.

This time next year…….

Doesn't mean their vision is the clearest.



"One of the greatest delusions in the world is the hope that the evils in this world are to be cured by legislation."
– Thomas B. Reed.

That’s my soul up there.

Two words.

Johnny Vegas.

He was on the comic aid show, and he stole it. He made my stomach hurt and my eyes sting. I haven’t cried that much in years.

Honourable mentions go to Dylan Moran and Bill Bailey.

Either here or Hell will employ you.

Stephen Fry and Tony Robinson.

*Takes off glasses – looks down between feet – rubs eyes – shakes head gently and sighs – puts on glasses – resumes post*

The advert is for some fucking fat you put on your bread, I’m so enraged when I see it that I forget the name of the stuff. It’s not just that they are both very wealthy and whoring themselves for yet more money. What bothers me more is that they are bulls, with horns…….. and for some insane reason that totally escapes me, udders. Why ?

Just a yin and a yang or a couple of pints please.

New Year’s Day. Taxdodger and his girlfriend had gone home, the washing up was done and the year was going smoothly. Then we noticed that the sink was emptying very slowly, we ignored it hoping it would fix itself and at this point had no inkling of the bother it would cause. The next day bleach was poured and that would be the end of it. It wasn’t the end of it, the sink was still very slow to empty, I dismantled the trap expecting to find a congealed mess in the u bend. It was clean, this was very bad because we live on the third floor and our sink drain doesn’t just nip through the wall and into a grid.

It goes through the back of the cupboard, along the wall to the corner and then straight through into a void behind the bathroom, where it joins the bathroom waste pipes; it then fucks off into the sewers through a big pipe that the other flats are joined to.

I borrowed a long rod off Five-Pies and broke into the pipe behind the fridge, rodding the pipe into the waste stack. I felt a blockage, and I felt it move. Job done ! Or so I thought.

The next time we emptied the sink, the bath filled up and Tracy found a piece of roast beef in the bathroom sink.

Fucking arse, we both thought. After a trip to the supermarket we attacked the problem with chemicals, I know about chemicals, how hard can it be ? Apparently it can be very hard, the blockage didn’t move. “Right that’s it !” It was time to rod it again, this time it was going to be vigorous. It seemed to work, after filling both sinks and the bath, pulling all the plugs at the same time, all the water disappeared in reasonably quick time. Excellent, we went to Prague safe in the knowledge that our pipes were at peace.

When we got back it started again, much rodding and cursing didn’t seem to do the trick. As I write this the bath is full of a grey coloured murky water that the washing machine didn’t want. It’s going slower and slower as the days pass. There is only one thing for it. The bathroom wall is going to have to come out.

Fucking cock biscuits !

To be continued.

Like a jackdaw with a fiery brand

If this didn't raise my stress levels so much it might even be funny.

Are you such a dreamer?

This makes me laugh. Vulnerable and unsuspecting people ? Greedy bastards more like. If someone phones and tells me I have a load of free money just waiting to be collected, I don't believe them. If it sounds too good to be true, it is. Live with it.

Like a koi in a frozen pond.

I listen to radio 2, but only when Steve Wright isn't on. The other day we heard REMs new single "Electron blue". Tracy remarked that the tune sounded just like "Maria" by Tony Christie. What do you think ?

Across the great divide.

Tracy was looking for a new mobile phone, so whilst mooching round Carlisle yesterday we happened to look in the 3 mobile shop. You would imagine that a multi-national company like 3 would employ highly intelligent people in their marketing department, people with flair and creativity, people who can read and write. No. We found this sign in the window.



We mentioned this to the nice young man inside, he said that head office had printed enough for every 3 outlet in the UK. The mistake was only noticed after the banners had been delivered. Genius !

It’s the bomb that will bring us together.

My local nuclear power plant has mislaid enough Plutonium to make about eight nuclear bombs. What the fuck have they done with it ? Plutonium is about twenty times heavier than water, so thirty kilos is about a litre and a half. That’s a fair amount; it’s not as if you couldn’t see it. Maybe it’s in an old coffee jar in the paint cupboard. They say it’s “a paper loss”. Fuck off ! It’s either there or it isn’t, when you do a stock check you count stuff. When it’s not where it should be you look everywhere else, when it’s not there you’ve lost it. There’s maybe someone in Cumbria running a small nuclear power plant in their garden shed. Or maybe it’s that new bloke in the canteen, what’s he called ? Osa …….

Andy Warhol, won't you please come home?

I have finally got that little bit of code to work, the one that puts that little banner across the top right hand corner. I saw it ages ago on D4D and couldn’t seem to get it working, then I noticed today that bandhag has a slightly different code, so I nicked it and hey presto. I was so impressed I decided to make a new name banner. I had a quick look at it in IE and it seemed ok, but I’m using Firefox these days, it’s so much better.

The Kyoto protocol takes effect today, maybe those countries who aren’t participating should look at these pictures.

If all you own is what you wear.

While we were in Prague we found a little shop that sold authentic Absinthe, so we bought a small bottle for the taxdodger. It was 72% alcohol by volume, with 10mg/l wormwood. Strong stuff. I didn't get any for me, I don't like the taste of Aniseed, but I had a taste after the taxdodger opened the bottle. We both sniffed the small amount that we had poured into a shot glass, I can't remember who went first, but we both had a taste, it was very strong, very sour and had that horrible aniseed taste. "I can't drink that" we both said simultaneously, "we're gonna have to mix it with something"

And so the Incredible Hulk was born;

1/4 shot Absinthe
1 shot Vodka
1 shot Cointreau
Key Lime crush
Slice of Lime
Ice

It's not called the Incredible Hulk because it's green, it is so named because after a night drinking these, you end up bollock naked in an alley, without a fucking clue what you were doing the night before.

Strange days indeed.

It's not that nothing has been happening around here, it's just that I couldn't find the words to make it even vaguely interesting.

I had an interview yesterday, the job was in Cheshire, I live in Cumbria. I can see difficulties with that one. On the way back we managed to put ourselves in mortal danger, straying into a potential battle zone, who would have thought a trip to Ikea would be so stressfull ?

I have read today that Man City have urged United fans not to use this weekend's derby match as place to protest against American billionaire Malcolm Glazer buying their team. I think it's a perfect time and place to do it, and I'm all for ensuring that football fans don't get trampled under the marching boots of globalisation. I wonder how much this has to do with Rupert Murdoch's influence ?

I couldn't really give a toss about Charles marrying Camilla, I think the royal family and the church of England are outdated institutions, the only gauling thing about the whole affair is the cost to the taxpayer. I have already contributed to one of his weddings, I don't really want to give him any more.