Hello,
I did promise you all a tale about my irritating work colleague so here it is. I did have a sketch to accompany it but my scanner is in a huff, so you'll need to wait for that. In the meantime here goes.
On Friday morning my irritating colleague called in sick stating he'd suffered 'a fall'. For reasons that are beyond me he turned up at the office at lunch time to explain face to face that he wouldn't be in. As he was due in at 10am by lunchtime we'd all worked that out.
Imagine my surprise and delight when he appeared reeking to high heaven of drink with cuts to both sides of his face his nose and knuckles still claiming to have fallen. A story he stuck to even after the entire office had stated it was obvious he's been in a fight.
His 'story' is that he was coming back from the pub and slipped on some gravel on a 'steep hill' after which everything conveniently goes blank. Now I'm no expert on forensics, in truth I am not even incompetent in it, however how is it possible to fall on your face and not only graze both knuckles but cut one's nose quite deeply, scrape both cheekbones and get a black eye?
Being an unusually clumsy individual I am expert on the subject of falling and those injuries aren't consistent with a fall. So the question arises what fucking hero walloped him? Who is the chap? What does he drink? What happened?
I am afraid I have become obsessed with uncovering the truth. So much so that Mr Clairwil half expects to me turn up in a deerstalker which is just silly, I see myself as more in the Miss Marple mould. I have even retraced his steps from the pub and can report that there is no loose gravel and no steep hills.
I suspect I know the motive all I'm missing is the perpetrator. I will keep you posted.
Showing posts with label alcohol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alcohol. Show all posts
10/22/2007
9/19/2007
Dereliction Of Duty
Hello,
It occurs to me that I haven't posted anything rude about a politician for ages. I can only apologise to my elected chums and trust none of them are feeling too neglected.
First up the Tories have irritated me. It's just like the 80's again. As you'll all be aware Thatcher popped round to Gordon Brown's pad for tea and crumpets or to noise up David Cameron depending on your view. Anyway a few of the Tories have got all huffy and upset about it, claiming that she's a frail and lonely old lady and is being exploited. Have they seen her lately? She looks more terrifying than ever. In any case in the unlikely event she and Cameron were to have a bare knuckle boxing contest I know where my money would be going.
That being their opinion I wonder how many of them pop in to visit or give her a ring to see if she wants any shopping done? Not many because they all keep their distance depending on how much of a liability they see her as having consulted with umpteen focus groups. If I were her I'd join Respect to really mess with their minds.
Obviously the government have upset me, I believe it was one of those pledges they kept banging on about. Apparently 24 hour licencing has got to go because some people are too bloody stupid to go to the pub without making a nuisance of themselves. Naturally this has got the puritans creaming their drawers with excitement.
Rather than restrict opening hours could they not try something like policing the town centres at peak times. They started doing it Glasgow a while back and fuck me violent crime at the weekend fell by 13%! It's almost as if the police were acting as some sort of deterrent. In addition to the visible and surprisingly civilized and good natured police presence they have fellows in fluorescent jackets who keep the taxi queue moving in an orderly fashion and direct folk to buses etc.
If the government place us all under house arrest at any point in the next ten years I will not raise an eyebrow. More seriously why can't they just leave us alone. Stop smoking, lose weight, stop drinking. For God's sake it's like living with my mother.
Has anyone looked into the effects of all this nagging on the population? Maybe all the stress they're putting us under is causing everyone to reach for the bottle. At times they make me want to smoke crack and bite folk.
Why can't they accept that human nature cannot be perfected by legislation? Look at the smoking ban. The only difference in my habits is that I sit outside at the pub and talk to all the interesting folk, leaving all the lemon suckers inside. Life expectancy in the U.K is longer than it's ever been. Why the sudden hysteria about self inflicted premature death?
I live in a town centre so I'm no stranger to the problems caused by drunken halfwits but I also know that the majority of people are able to go out for a few pints without causing mayhem. I am merely suggesting that they leave the rest of us alone and arrest the idiots. Honestly they're worse than those teachers that punish entire classes for the 'crimes' of an individual.
Cheerio
It occurs to me that I haven't posted anything rude about a politician for ages. I can only apologise to my elected chums and trust none of them are feeling too neglected.
First up the Tories have irritated me. It's just like the 80's again. As you'll all be aware Thatcher popped round to Gordon Brown's pad for tea and crumpets or to noise up David Cameron depending on your view. Anyway a few of the Tories have got all huffy and upset about it, claiming that she's a frail and lonely old lady and is being exploited. Have they seen her lately? She looks more terrifying than ever. In any case in the unlikely event she and Cameron were to have a bare knuckle boxing contest I know where my money would be going.
That being their opinion I wonder how many of them pop in to visit or give her a ring to see if she wants any shopping done? Not many because they all keep their distance depending on how much of a liability they see her as having consulted with umpteen focus groups. If I were her I'd join Respect to really mess with their minds.
Obviously the government have upset me, I believe it was one of those pledges they kept banging on about. Apparently 24 hour licencing has got to go because some people are too bloody stupid to go to the pub without making a nuisance of themselves. Naturally this has got the puritans creaming their drawers with excitement.
Rather than restrict opening hours could they not try something like policing the town centres at peak times. They started doing it Glasgow a while back and fuck me violent crime at the weekend fell by 13%! It's almost as if the police were acting as some sort of deterrent. In addition to the visible and surprisingly civilized and good natured police presence they have fellows in fluorescent jackets who keep the taxi queue moving in an orderly fashion and direct folk to buses etc.
If the government place us all under house arrest at any point in the next ten years I will not raise an eyebrow. More seriously why can't they just leave us alone. Stop smoking, lose weight, stop drinking. For God's sake it's like living with my mother.
Has anyone looked into the effects of all this nagging on the population? Maybe all the stress they're putting us under is causing everyone to reach for the bottle. At times they make me want to smoke crack and bite folk.
Why can't they accept that human nature cannot be perfected by legislation? Look at the smoking ban. The only difference in my habits is that I sit outside at the pub and talk to all the interesting folk, leaving all the lemon suckers inside. Life expectancy in the U.K is longer than it's ever been. Why the sudden hysteria about self inflicted premature death?
I live in a town centre so I'm no stranger to the problems caused by drunken halfwits but I also know that the majority of people are able to go out for a few pints without causing mayhem. I am merely suggesting that they leave the rest of us alone and arrest the idiots. Honestly they're worse than those teachers that punish entire classes for the 'crimes' of an individual.
Cheerio
8/09/2007
Turn That Bloody Racket Off!
Hello,
I see Elton John has demanded that the internet be turned off for five years. Can that be done? Where is the internet kept? Who looks after it? We should of course bear in mind that Elton John once phoned a hotel reception in a temper and told them to turn down the weather so it is possible he's misunderstood the whole thing a bit.
Naturally I'm opposed to this wicked plan. I prefer the internet to the telly these days. Telly reminds me that I am alone in the universe, the internet allows me to pretend I'm not. My whole life I've been haunted by the feeling that all the people like me are off elsewhere doing interesting stuff whilst I'm surrounded by people who humour me or irritate me.
I'm off out on Friday night on some sort of work 'teambuilding' night out in an appalling tapas bar. Why they can't just accept that we all hate each other and leave us in peace I'll never know. What is the sodding point? What do I have to say to a load of mums who reek of antiseptic and talk about their bowels all the time? Well plenty actually but they'd all start making the gasp of outrage possibly worse than the one they do when they see something that displeases them on GMTV so I'll be sitting in silence watching the clock and dreaming up excuses to leave early.
With any luck one of them will drink a glass of wine and do something outrageous, though I fear it will the the usual tuts of disapproval if I order a pint. Worse still they'll insist we share our dishes. I fucking hate sharing. I cannot bear it. Every time we go out it's the same. I look at the menu and decide what I want whereas they all flap about whining 'what are you having' so that they can co-ordinate, then treat me like an anti-social freak for my perfectly reasonable desire to eat without them sticking their dirty forks in my food. I wouldn't mind but these are people who change the sheets immediately after sex and carry wet wipes at all times yet they're quite happy to stick their bloody germs in my dinner. I should stress I'm not germ phobic but I refuse to eat off the same plate as anyone I wouldn't sleep with.
Oh God I'm on a roll now. The list of things they do that annoy me is too long to deal with in detail but as this is food related I'll throw it in. Every single day in work they ask me what I'm having for lunch or if I happen to be eating it at the time the lean over and look at it before questioning me as to exactly what's in my sandwich. For six months I ate cheese sandwiches because it was easier to explain than houmous. I don't know why but I feel very agressive when questioned about my lunch. Always have, even as a child. What gets me hopping mad is when they ask what I'm having then get the same thing and tell everyone that they bought it because Clairwil was having it and it looked nice.
Right I must end now I feel a rant about their stupid fake allergies coming on and if I start I won't stop.
Cheers
I see Elton John has demanded that the internet be turned off for five years. Can that be done? Where is the internet kept? Who looks after it? We should of course bear in mind that Elton John once phoned a hotel reception in a temper and told them to turn down the weather so it is possible he's misunderstood the whole thing a bit.
Naturally I'm opposed to this wicked plan. I prefer the internet to the telly these days. Telly reminds me that I am alone in the universe, the internet allows me to pretend I'm not. My whole life I've been haunted by the feeling that all the people like me are off elsewhere doing interesting stuff whilst I'm surrounded by people who humour me or irritate me.
I'm off out on Friday night on some sort of work 'teambuilding' night out in an appalling tapas bar. Why they can't just accept that we all hate each other and leave us in peace I'll never know. What is the sodding point? What do I have to say to a load of mums who reek of antiseptic and talk about their bowels all the time? Well plenty actually but they'd all start making the gasp of outrage possibly worse than the one they do when they see something that displeases them on GMTV so I'll be sitting in silence watching the clock and dreaming up excuses to leave early.
With any luck one of them will drink a glass of wine and do something outrageous, though I fear it will the the usual tuts of disapproval if I order a pint. Worse still they'll insist we share our dishes. I fucking hate sharing. I cannot bear it. Every time we go out it's the same. I look at the menu and decide what I want whereas they all flap about whining 'what are you having' so that they can co-ordinate, then treat me like an anti-social freak for my perfectly reasonable desire to eat without them sticking their dirty forks in my food. I wouldn't mind but these are people who change the sheets immediately after sex and carry wet wipes at all times yet they're quite happy to stick their bloody germs in my dinner. I should stress I'm not germ phobic but I refuse to eat off the same plate as anyone I wouldn't sleep with.
Oh God I'm on a roll now. The list of things they do that annoy me is too long to deal with in detail but as this is food related I'll throw it in. Every single day in work they ask me what I'm having for lunch or if I happen to be eating it at the time the lean over and look at it before questioning me as to exactly what's in my sandwich. For six months I ate cheese sandwiches because it was easier to explain than houmous. I don't know why but I feel very agressive when questioned about my lunch. Always have, even as a child. What gets me hopping mad is when they ask what I'm having then get the same thing and tell everyone that they bought it because Clairwil was having it and it looked nice.
Right I must end now I feel a rant about their stupid fake allergies coming on and if I start I won't stop.
Cheers
6/03/2007
Advice On Sex Toys
Hello,
I recently purchased a stack of sex toys purely for self gratification, not for research or something dull, or worse respectable.
It's cliched but entirely true that you can't go wrong with a Rampant Rabbit. I have abandoned my Red Mermaid for the Platinum Rabbit. It's as good as a chap but faster which appeals to me, if no-one else. Why does sex always take so long?
I'm also recommending the comically named 'Tracy Cox Supersex Lovelube'. Slidy without stickiness, pleasantly scented and tasteless. Works wonders on stubble rash. Mind you it contains ginseng which I'm told is stimulating to the boaby so do be careful.
Rubber Spiked Love Balls are anything but loving. Good Lord it was like sitting down too quickly and finding that in a one in a million chance, one sucked up a couple of baby hedgehogs. Avoid, avoid. Like the bloody plague.
Finally we come (ho ho) to Little Blue. A vibrator of pathetic length and girth. Honestly I cannot imagine who it is made for. Well actually I can but nympho toddlers have no place on my blog. I have no wish to be lynched. Oh no not I.
Cheerio
P.S I recived an email from an irate reader (my mummy) earlier in the week demaning that this be taken down. I'd forgotten about it but here it is again, mummy. Now take the hint and cock off.
5/20/2007
Notes, News and Chat
Hello,
Well thats a hello to anyone that still visits. I feel like an abandoned grannie and only slightly less sexy.
A reminder that The Scottish Idlers Guild will be meeting on 02/06/07 at Chinaskis, North St, Glasgow. Do pop along if you're in the area and anxious to hurl toil into the bin. Let's create an oasis of idling.
News reaches me that our esteemed friend The Ill Man may have acquired some sort of lady friend. Though as I, his alleged 'best friend' of fourteen years have not been directly informed of this or been introduced to the lady in question I cannot say whether there is any truth in the rumour. All I will say is that I think it's very unfair when I have allowed him to speak to Mr Clairwil on several occasions, even though Mr Clairwil seldom leaves the house and dislikes strangers. This episode has been noted.
I have taken to drinking Sweetheart Stout.
There is some sort of hygiene drive on at work. Either that or one of my colleagues has been sent so mad by the poisonous atmosphere that she's developed an irrational germ phobia and fear of food a baw hair over it's sell by date. I fear for my safety.
I'm thinking of founding a commune/dictatorship. I'm very tired, tarot cards then bed.
Goodnight
5/18/2007
The world really needs something to take the edge off it.
Hello,
Sorry for the absence. I've been grappling with nicotine withdrawl, a diet of leftovers and no booze for a week. A whole week. Talk about depressing. I haven't decided to take up 'healthy living' or some such nonsense. I've been estranged from my bank card. To cut a long story short my card stopped working, the bank sent a replacement which has been trapped at the sorting office for a whole week.
Anyway I now have my new card and have been able to get back into the old vices again. Merciful Jesus! The terrible thing about not smoking and drinking is that it makes one think of themselves and how they feel constantly and that way depression lies. I imagine this is what rehab must be like.
It is just as well I've got my 'crutches' because I don't think the unenhanced Clairwil could have taken this horror - Tony Blair in charge of the World Bank! For heaven's sake, you'd think after the mess he's made of Britain, not to mention Iraq he'd be unemployable but no. They think he's wonderful!
Nothing's been decided as yet but it's just the sort of thing I could see Blair doing either that or something pointless in Europe. What the reports on this terrifying possibility don't mention is Cherie. The world Bank might think Paul Wolfowitz's lady friend has been a problem but imagine that grasping crow Cherie on the loose. She'll sweep through the world hoovering up freebies and I bet she'll nick the stationary whether he manages to wangle her a job or not.
Quite apart from anything else and correct me if I'm wrong but Blair doesn't have any banking experience does he? That being the case shouldn't he be starting out in the call centre or something to get a bit of experience. There is also the small matter of the question of Blair's honesty cash for peerages, WMD etc.
Why can't he just piss off to America and charge businessmen stupid sums of money to listen to him bang on about how great he is? Isn't that the normal career for ex-prime ministers. Failing that couldn't we just encase him concrete and bury him for a 100 years after which time he wouldn't be able to do any more damage?
Sorry for the absence. I've been grappling with nicotine withdrawl, a diet of leftovers and no booze for a week. A whole week. Talk about depressing. I haven't decided to take up 'healthy living' or some such nonsense. I've been estranged from my bank card. To cut a long story short my card stopped working, the bank sent a replacement which has been trapped at the sorting office for a whole week.
Anyway I now have my new card and have been able to get back into the old vices again. Merciful Jesus! The terrible thing about not smoking and drinking is that it makes one think of themselves and how they feel constantly and that way depression lies. I imagine this is what rehab must be like.
It is just as well I've got my 'crutches' because I don't think the unenhanced Clairwil could have taken this horror - Tony Blair in charge of the World Bank! For heaven's sake, you'd think after the mess he's made of Britain, not to mention Iraq he'd be unemployable but no. They think he's wonderful!
Nothing's been decided as yet but it's just the sort of thing I could see Blair doing either that or something pointless in Europe. What the reports on this terrifying possibility don't mention is Cherie. The world Bank might think Paul Wolfowitz's lady friend has been a problem but imagine that grasping crow Cherie on the loose. She'll sweep through the world hoovering up freebies and I bet she'll nick the stationary whether he manages to wangle her a job or not.
Quite apart from anything else and correct me if I'm wrong but Blair doesn't have any banking experience does he? That being the case shouldn't he be starting out in the call centre or something to get a bit of experience. There is also the small matter of the question of Blair's honesty cash for peerages, WMD etc.
Why can't he just piss off to America and charge businessmen stupid sums of money to listen to him bang on about how great he is? Isn't that the normal career for ex-prime ministers. Failing that couldn't we just encase him concrete and bury him for a 100 years after which time he wouldn't be able to do any more damage?
2/05/2007
Please Cry Quietly
Hello,
As someone who might charitably be described as unusually sensitive to other people's noise or more realistically an irritable, hard faced cow my life contains more than it's fair share of torment.
Take this afternoon for example after being released from the horror of work slightly earlier than expected I thought I'd take myself off for a quiet pint and a read at the paper. Really my needs are simple in life, a dark pub with just enough light to read , a bit of gentle chatter in the background and a newspaper in the afternoon. That's just how it was today until the incredible whining she- screech started.
One moment all was perfectly peaceful then the next this awful creature started saying 'I' and 'me' a lot between sobs of a terrifying volume. I looked up all the better to glare at the person who had brought a distressed child into the pub only to be confronted with the sight of a badly dressed young woman hanging off a middle aged man and screaming.
I must say the chap showed infinitely more patience than I would have in such a situation, more so when one considers that he didn't make his escape when she went to the toilet. I hoped and prayed she might be using her time in the ladies to compose herself but no, she'd merely been working herself up to greater heights of hysteria.
I've nothing against crying as such. I do it all the time and it's quite useful. All I ask that it is done in private or at least quietly. If one must to make a song and dance about it at least tell the rest of us why. Honestly I was driving myself mad trying to work out what had happened to cause her to carry on in such a manner. She looked to me, like the sort of woman that cries at parties and has to be taken home early by a chap, ideally a friends husband.
My peace shattered I packed up and moved on. To think they won't even let one have a fag in the pub but behaviour like that is within the law. I really don't understand anything anymore.
As someone who might charitably be described as unusually sensitive to other people's noise or more realistically an irritable, hard faced cow my life contains more than it's fair share of torment.
Take this afternoon for example after being released from the horror of work slightly earlier than expected I thought I'd take myself off for a quiet pint and a read at the paper. Really my needs are simple in life, a dark pub with just enough light to read , a bit of gentle chatter in the background and a newspaper in the afternoon. That's just how it was today until the incredible whining she- screech started.
One moment all was perfectly peaceful then the next this awful creature started saying 'I' and 'me' a lot between sobs of a terrifying volume. I looked up all the better to glare at the person who had brought a distressed child into the pub only to be confronted with the sight of a badly dressed young woman hanging off a middle aged man and screaming.
I must say the chap showed infinitely more patience than I would have in such a situation, more so when one considers that he didn't make his escape when she went to the toilet. I hoped and prayed she might be using her time in the ladies to compose herself but no, she'd merely been working herself up to greater heights of hysteria.
I've nothing against crying as such. I do it all the time and it's quite useful. All I ask that it is done in private or at least quietly. If one must to make a song and dance about it at least tell the rest of us why. Honestly I was driving myself mad trying to work out what had happened to cause her to carry on in such a manner. She looked to me, like the sort of woman that cries at parties and has to be taken home early by a chap, ideally a friends husband.
My peace shattered I packed up and moved on. To think they won't even let one have a fag in the pub but behaviour like that is within the law. I really don't understand anything anymore.
1/13/2007
The Demon Drink/ The Third World Strikes Back
Hello,
If Mr Clairwil hadn't taken part in this foolish alcohol experiment I'd have thought he'd finally snapped and decided to kill me. Alcohol is a cruel drug in that the hapless drinker is always the last to know they've had enough. So when Mr Clairwil produced a bottle of what he called African Rum, though I suspect it emerged from the pit of hell, I eagerly snatched it from his hands and got stuck in. Apparently it cost the equivalent of 97p in foreign money. The buyer was ripped off.
I feel certain I maybe permanently damaged. It smelt odd which should have put me off and if I wasn't so macho about alcohol it would have. All my life I've sneered at women sitting demurely in a corner with a heavily diluted spirit or a Bacardi Breezer. Oh come on, either drink or don't. That said maybe they were right, at least none of them crawled out of bed well after midday and spent the day wandering the streets reeking of moonshine and forgetting where everything was. Honestly I felt like a tourist from another planet. To be fair I always feel a bit like that anyway, more so at family gatherings.
Instead of doing all the wonderful things I planned today I've spent the day lying on the floor feeling puzzled. As for the dreams I had under the influence of that stuff, no tongue could convey their true oddness. Wandering around a hotel with no reception and stairways that lead nowhere, Tony Wilson living in my flat, my G.P sobbing, living in an abandoned factory full of pipes, being able to live underwater and taking a lion for a walk. Those were the more sensible bits.
Booze- just say no.
Please take a look at those 'very jellas bitches' over at Jodie Mush. I love them and of course don't forget to drop in on the Scottish Blog Round Up.
Cheerio
If Mr Clairwil hadn't taken part in this foolish alcohol experiment I'd have thought he'd finally snapped and decided to kill me. Alcohol is a cruel drug in that the hapless drinker is always the last to know they've had enough. So when Mr Clairwil produced a bottle of what he called African Rum, though I suspect it emerged from the pit of hell, I eagerly snatched it from his hands and got stuck in. Apparently it cost the equivalent of 97p in foreign money. The buyer was ripped off.
I feel certain I maybe permanently damaged. It smelt odd which should have put me off and if I wasn't so macho about alcohol it would have. All my life I've sneered at women sitting demurely in a corner with a heavily diluted spirit or a Bacardi Breezer. Oh come on, either drink or don't. That said maybe they were right, at least none of them crawled out of bed well after midday and spent the day wandering the streets reeking of moonshine and forgetting where everything was. Honestly I felt like a tourist from another planet. To be fair I always feel a bit like that anyway, more so at family gatherings.
Instead of doing all the wonderful things I planned today I've spent the day lying on the floor feeling puzzled. As for the dreams I had under the influence of that stuff, no tongue could convey their true oddness. Wandering around a hotel with no reception and stairways that lead nowhere, Tony Wilson living in my flat, my G.P sobbing, living in an abandoned factory full of pipes, being able to live underwater and taking a lion for a walk. Those were the more sensible bits.
Booze- just say no.
Please take a look at those 'very jellas bitches' over at Jodie Mush. I love them and of course don't forget to drop in on the Scottish Blog Round Up.
Cheerio
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