Seasons Greetings

Not much to report. I just wanted to wish you a happy, peaceful, loving, safe, indulgent, joyous Christmas.
See you anon.

RC 24-12-09

Nice timing..

Hannah and Nathan have parted. I found her in tears in the kitchen last night, and thought he may have (forgive me) seen sense and dumped her, but it turns out it was her decision, not his.
“What made you end it,” I asked, “you seemed to get on so well?”
“We did” she replied tearfully, “I think he may be the first man I’ve ever really loved.”
“Then what on Earth went wrong?” I asked.
“He wants to stay pure until he’s married. And I’m absolutely dying for a shag.”
Words fail me.

RC 23-12-09

Wet stuff

We’ve had loads of snow in Norfolk over the past few days. It’s been so festive and joyous I’ve been inspired to pen some Snowy Haiku:

The snowflakes fall down
And children’s hearts are lifted
When their school is closed

Snowmen look like clouds
That have fallen down to Earth
And become statues

I threw a snowball
At the back of Hannah's head
I’m a bad brother

When I was a child
Snow made my life feel better
AND IT STILL DOES NOW!

Cold makes me horny
Shame it makes my cock shrink too
God can be so cruel

I'm a legend.

RC 23-12-09

Things have changed (as Bob Dylan once said)

I’ve finished working at the supermarket then. I had a couple of panicky times early in the week worrying that I’d done the wrong thing, then on the last day I kept thinking I might miss it, but now I’ve left I have to say my over-riding emotion is RELIEF and my over-riding thought is ‘Thank **** that’s over.’
They gave me a nice send-off in the end. Dave said a few words during our lunch break and they handed me a voucher, which obviously has to be spent in the supermarket. Apparently there was a whip-round, then the store matched it pound for pound, so there’s quite a nice sum for me to spend, bless ‘em. I’ve put it away in a drawer. If I don’t get a job in the New Year we may need it to buy groceries.
On Saturday night I went out for a ‘goodbye fling’ with some of the team, but I wasn’t really in the mood. I like them, but I just wanted to be away from them all, so at half-ten I said I was shattered and wanted to go home rather than bring on the swine flu symptoms again.. Yesterday I had a nice lunch with Nathan and Hannah, then we went for a walk in the snow. Nathan kept trying to sculpt a snowman with a crucifix on his chest, so we came back in and played bowling on the Wii. Today I’m settling down to watch ‘Citizen Kane’ on DVD. It was on offer for three quid on a website, and I want to see what all the fuss is about.
Strange to think I haven’t got to work at all this week, and that I no longer have to be up all night moving produce. Hang on – did I say ‘strange’? What I meant to say was ****ING MARVELLOUS!!!
Here’s to the future.

RC 21-12-09

Xmas plans

My swine flu was just a mild cold really, so I’m feeling much better now. I'm glad I had the full week off work though, as you can’t be too careful. Can’t believe I’ve only got two nights to go! All very odd..
I have ordered all my Christmas shopping online. Lots of pressies for Hannah, some stuff being delivered to Sophie in Scotland, some bits for Ted and Beryl, and lots of choccies and stuff for Ted and Beryl’s family to share on The Big Day itself.
Ted says he may let me beat him at chess as a Christmas present. I told him to shove his patronising attitude up his arse and give me his best game, or find himself another playmate.
It can’t be much fun for him really. Everyone likes to win, but I’m sure he’d like a more challenging opponent to test his mettle against.
Maybe I’ll buy him Deep Blue for Christmas.

Rory’s December Schedule:

18th – leave work
19th-22nd – be drunk
23rd – Xmas shopping (Incl. buying myself some Wii games)
24th – lunch in pub; 2nd annual club nights thingy in evening
25th- hangover; light lunch; over to Ted and Beryl
26th – at home with Hannah
27th – at-home movie and games fest
28th – 2nd Jan – in Edinburgh
3rd – 5th Jan – recovery
6th Jan – Commence JobSearch

RC 16-12-09

Swine

I should have kept my bloody mouth shut. Since posting my last blog full of health and good cheer and optimism, I’ve been laid low by some awful bug thing. According to the NHS hotline, I may well have swine flu. How I’m supposed to tell the difference between a bad cold, normal seasonal flu and swine flu is beyond me, but then I haven’t done seven years at medical school like the people working in the Call Centre….. I can’t be arsed to go and collect some Tamiflu, so I’m staying in bed, eating lots of satsumas and now about to phone work and say ‘Sorry, I won’t be coming in again.’ Truth be told, I don’t feel all that bad, but I don’t want to risk passing the infection on to my co-workers and customers, do I? How could I forgive myself?
Hannah has taken a few days off work to ‘look after me.’ Opportunist bitch. It turns out ‘look after me’ means meeting Nathan for lunch every day and doing her Christmas shopping in the precinct. Bless her. We’re going to sit down later and plan our Yuletide schedules. She’s torn between wanting to see her fella as much as possible, and wanting to avoid the heavy religious overtones that Christmas with him and his folks would involve. Pray, or play, that seems to be her choice. Sometimes I’m so witty it astounds me…

I think a bacon sarnie might make me feel better, then I’m gonna go online and sort out my travel to Edinburgh.

RC 10-12-09

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

I’m so excited I could burst. Two weeks left at work, an imminent trip up to Scotland for Hogmanay, Christmas lights going up in windows around us, and all of it making me feel fan-bloody-tastic.
It’s been a strange, painful, confusing, change-inducing and altogether unusual year, but I’ve made it through, and I’m in a better place than I have been for years. I’ve got my work ethic and self-respect back, I’ve had some laughs and made some good friends, and I am looking forward to another year full of possibilities and determined to enjoy myself and all that the world has to offer. I finally feel as if I’ve turned a corner from a dark side-alley and I’m ready to stroll down the High Street of life and make the best of it. I am fearful of nothing, and full of understanding for what I am, and what I can achieve.

I may ask Santa for a tattoo saying “I Love Fluoxetine”

RC 7-12-09

Jared

As I won’t be seeing him much longer, I thought it would be good to note down a few Jared-isms, before they’re confined to my past, alongside 3 a.m. egg sandwiches and the early morning drunks in the booze aisle.
In no particular order, here are my personal Top 10 (although I have a suspicion he may have stolen the ninth one from ‘The Simpsons’):

- “If it wasn’t for internet porn we’d all be raping each other constantly”
- “She was wetter than the Nile in a downpour”
- “My memories of school are as bad as my memories of appendicitis, or shagging that fat bird on Brighton beach in daylight”
- “My guts feel like a party in an eel pond”
- “This job’s about as much fun as leprosy”
- “She had a fanny like a dustbin full of liver”
- “I’d rather work drunk than relax sober”
- “She had nipples like the rivets on a ships hull”
- “The older I get, the smarter I ain’t”
- “Take it from me – when you’re with a bird and she starts sounding really turned on, it ain’t a good thing to shout ‘Yeah, you love it, you fat slut.’”

RC 3-12-09

Christmas month begins..

My disciplinary meeting was a bit of a non-event. The Deputy Store Manager and the HR Executive sat there in grey suits looking very grave. They went on at length about professionalism and how my actions while in my uniform reflect on the whole company and how damaging the publicity might be, etc. Fortunately, Jim the security guy had written a statement about how ‘the victim’ had been a pain in the arse to several staff members that night, and how I was only acting in self-defence, which was nice of him. Dave my manager came in with me and gave me a glowing report and then, when offered my own chance to speak, I delivered the coup de grace: I fiddled with my sleeve with tears in my eyes and said I was sorry, but I wasn’t really myself that night. I told them I’ve recently been placed on antidepressants and that a side-effect of them is an increase in violent tendencies. I told them I was only on them in the first place due to my work conditions, and the pressure they put on me to stay until Christmas when I really wanted to leave in October. They looked at each other with an expression that said “potential law suit under the Mental Health Act” and sent me off with a verbal warning.
11 days of work and counting…

RC 1-12-09

30/11

The last day of the month, and possibly my last day of employment at the supermarket. I’m a bit nervous I suppose, but I’m not really sure why. I’m sick of the place, and I don’t care if they sack me on the spot, but even so… I might need a reference in the New Year, and I’d rather it didn’t contain the phrase ‘We fired him for attacking a customer.’ Plus, they are genuinely good people on the whole, and I don’t want to leave on bad terms. So a herd of rabid butterflies has decided to nest in my intestines..

To distract me from the imminent disciplinary proceedings, I have returned to my old friend haiku, and present for your enjoyment some Advent-inspired musings…

Will Father Christmas
Bring me all that I ask for?
Or just some more socks?

When my mum was here
Christmas was just about booze
Now it’s about fun

If the myths are true
About Scotland and New Year
I might be ill soon..

O Star of Wonder
Were you a guide to Christ’s bed?
Or just a bright light?

Chestnuts on a fire
Songs that make you feel festive
Cliff Richard is God

I don’t want presents
Just an hour with Girls Aloud
Dressed as Santa’s elves

At this Christmastime
I wish Peace to all, except
Jamie Oliver

RC 30-11-09

Old head, young scamp

Ted and I resumed hostilities on the chessboard today. After a two-week break, it felt good be back in my ‘hobby zone.’ (also known as Ted and Beryl’s living room)
Beryl is all better now, so the Ted-inflicted quarantine is lifted. I asked him straight away “I hope it wasn’t anything serious?”
“Nah,” he said, “she just had a verruca.” and winked. He really is a mischievous old bastard, and I type that with all due respect. We were laughing within minutes of meeting, and I am increasingly glad to be in his company.
Then he nailed my arse to the chessboard again.
I thought hobbies were supposed to be fun?

RC 29-11-09

Rory 3:16

I confronted Nathan about The Bible placement on my pillow. Actually, I confronted Hannah about it once Nathan was safely out of the building and out of earshot, but it’s pretty much the same thing. After all, they spend so much time together at the moment it’s like they’re one entity. It turns out it wasn’t intended for me at all - he gave it to her on Sunday, saying “No pressure, H, I’d just like you to have a look at it.” She looked at it once, then threw it in my room to get rid of it. If he’s looking for a sure-fire way to end their relationship, forcing The Good Book on her is a winner. Still – at least I know he hasn’t got me in his Jesus-shaped crossfires just yet.
Part of me thinks that it’s a shame he’s a real religio, as otherwise he’s a perfectly nice person and good company. But there’s another side that tells me ‘maybe he wouldn’t be so nice if he didn’t have God in his life.’ It’s very confusing, and it’s exactly why I try to avoid religion altogether.

By now, I’ve probably shown up as ‘DISBELIEVER’ on some far-right Christian search site in America. They’re probably plotting to fly to Norfolk and kidnap me, and take me to some church-shaped brainwashing facility in Texas, so I’m going to stop writing about it now and return to searching for porn.

RC 28-11-09

Thank [expletive deleted] It's Friday

At the end of our shift this morning, Dave my manager took me aside and said “I hope the meeting on Monday isn’t going to play on your mind. I’d hate it to ruin your weekend.”
It took me a few seconds to realize what he was talking about before I said “No, it’s ok, I’ll be fine.” It was really hard not to smile.
Why would I be worried when I leave in three weeks anyway? What exactly can they threaten me with that would see me lose sleep or be worried? If I walk in the room and there’s a ducking stool, or a car battery and some electrodes, or an ex-marine in the corner wearing a T-shirt saying “I USED TO WATERBOARD AT GUANTANAMO BAY AND ALL I LEFT WITH WAS THIS BLOOD-STAINED T-SHIRT” I might get a bit concerned, but otherwise…

Ted and I have a big day of chess lined up on Sunday. We haven’t played this week because Beryl’s been ill, and he’s placed his own house under quarantine. He is a character. He put a sign up on the door saying “POSSIBLE SWINE FLU INFECTION – VITAL DELIVERIES ONLY.”
I have a suspicion he may owe some money to the milkman..

RC 27-11-09

Questions, questions, so many questions..

• What would people talk about if they were banned from discussing the weather?
• Why do middle-aged men in pubs spend five pounds on fags and three quid on a pint of beer and then complain that they can’t afford school dinners for their children?
• Why is my hair-line receding faster than Jenson Button in a wind tunnel? Isn’t it enough that I’m overweight, unlovable and uglier than a cross between Princess Anne and a bullock?
• Why does Katie Price have a career?
• Why do women who drive 4x4s in Norfolk assume that everyone else will get off the road for them?
• Why do fat men in their fifties think it’s okay to walk around in a sports vest?
• If we’re really supposed to eat fruit and veg, why don’t they taste like chocolate?
• Where the hell has my sex drive gone?
• Why do ‘fat chance’ and ‘slim chance’ mean the same thing, when ‘fat’ and ‘slim’ are opposites?

RC 26-11-09

At least the shift wasn't boring...

I’m in trouble at work. I got into a bit of a fight with a customer, which apparently is a bit of a no-no. It was after my shift, and it was outside in the car park, but it’s still being frowned on by the management. His name is Gordon something-or-other and he was in the year below me at school. Ginger-haired tosser. He was about as popular in class as impetigo.
He came in drunk or stoned at about 3am and recognized me immediately. He kept coming back to my aisle and abusing me, at first showing off to his fat mate, then just doing it for his own amusement. It was annoying rather than hurtful, but then he said “Your sister was a slut as well – she got passed around the school like a rugby ball” so I accidentally dropped a 6-pint pack of milk on his foot. He was right, but you have to defend your family don’t you? He yelped like a kitten with its foot on a pin and then sloped off saying “You’ll get yours, bitch.” I smiled and went back to work, and thought it was all done with, but the idiot sat outside waiting for me. He was still there cold and ugly at 6.30 when I left. He pushed me and said something nonsensical and incoherent, so I gently clattered him across the head, and that was it really. But unfortunately, Jim the over-enthusiastic security guy had seen him loitering outside and was keeping an eye on him. As soon as we scuffled, he piled in like a Hells Angel at a Rolling Stones concert and, of course, I was still in my uniform….
I have a disciplinary meeting on Monday.
I’m hoping they might choose to suspend me…

RC 25-11-09

What the Hell?

Nathan has left a copy of The Bible on my pillow….I’m not sure if he is trying to recruit me, or if he and Hannah were borrowing my bed, and The Good Book is a kinky addition to their foreplay, but either way I’m not happy...

RC 24-11-09

The answer is blowin' in the wind

We had a great conversation during break last night.. Jared was overwhelmed with flatulence and was happily letting rip while everyone was trying to enjoy their soup or fry-up. One of the nicer till girls – a young redhead named Amy – was ranting about men and their gaseous anal expulsions, saying “You’re disgusting. Women only break wind because it’s medically inadvisable to hold it in, and we only ever do it in private. Men will fart anywhere. A man would fart at a funeral. Men love to fart.”
Steve from the warehouse replied “Of course we do – it’s the closest thing we get to childbirth…. Pain – strain – release, then you send them off on their own into the world.”
To which I couldn’t help but add- “And just like children – no-one ever appreciates them as much as you do.”
I will miss our little chats..

RC 20-11-09

The First Line Is A Paradox

Work is beginning to get very busy, but strangely enough, also much easier. They put up the Christmas schedules on the notice board, and my name is conspicuous by its absence with effect from Friday 18th December. I am into my final four weeks of supermarket employment and there is light at the end of the tunnel! They’ve been trying very hard to get me to stay into the New Year, as they need as many capable hands on board as possible, but I’m afraid they’ll have to rely on scummy careless temp staff, like what I was last year. (The ‘scummy, etc’ comment was a direct quote from a manager, by the way, not my personal reflections on those involved in temporary employment) I don’t see why I should ruin my own yuletide festivities just because they’re too busy to cope, and too tight to hire enough staff to cover it.
Sorry if this is all a bit rambly and incoherent, I’m buzzing from too much caffeine and my fingers are finding it hard to keep up with my thought processes, and I can’t be bothered to check and edit this so it’ll just be posted as-it-is when I’m finished, regardless of grammatical errors or abandonment of language structure.
I wonder if I can get funding to carry out research based on the correlation between caffeine intake and ability to communicate effectively?
I need to lie down now, I have a headache.

RC 19-11-09

reflections on a beau

Hannah’s boyfriend Nathan seems to be having an effect on her.
She seems to be more considerate and understanding and, quite frankly, less of a bitch. She doesn’t use all the hot water when she’s getting ready for work, and it must be a fortnight since she used my Mach3 razor on her leg hairs.
If they stay together, it’ll be a curious thing to observe and see who wins out. Will his Christian ways affect her and make her more spiritual, understanding and compassionate? Or will the lure of hedonism triumph, and see him join her in a life of indulgence, sin and debauchery?
Sophie called today and asked if I’d like to spend Christmas in Edinburgh. She said how nice it has been to be in contact again, and she would love to spend part of Christmas with her family. She can’t have much time off work though so asked if Hannah and I might be available to go up there. I said it sounds fantastic, but it depends what Hannah’s boyfriend says, as she’s started dating Jesus, and it may be a busy time for him..

RC 18-11-09

Update

I confronted Ted about his comments. He said it was just a joke.
That’s a relief.
He got me in Checkmate within 12 moves.
I hate him.

RC 16-11-09

I want the truth..

I've decided to ask Ted if he was serious about cheating on Beryl. Partly because I want to get the constant images of septuagenarian sex out of my head, but also because I like them both as friends, and I'd rather him not confess things to me that might make me feel awkward when I'm talking to her. Through all their squabbles over the Summer, I tried to stay as neutral as possible, but on occasions when I was caught in the crossfire, I did tend to land on Ted's side of the situation. I don't want her seeing me as an ally to her husband, rather than a friend to them both. Mind you, it was Beryl who asked me to go round more often, and Beryl who suggested we meet up for chess, so it could be that I'm concerned over nothing.

Incidentally, isn't it telling that FRIEND and FIEND are only one letter apart? Or maybe it's just me..

RC 15-11-09

Playing Away?

Ted was away last week for an Armed Forces Remembrance Service somewhere, so I didn't get my usual Sunday afternoon beating at the chessboard. When he told me he wouldn't be home at the weekend, I jovially asked "Seeing a fancy woman, you old rouge?" to which he replied, very earnestly, "Well, you know what they say.. When the hens aren't laying at home, you've got to get your eggs from somewhere."
It's been bothering me ever since. Firstly, because the thought of Ted still having an active sex life fills me with disgust, jealousy and hope in equal measures, and that's confusing me. Secondly, I don't like it when people tell me intimate secrets, I find it discomforting and unsettling. If I had wanted to hear confessions, I'd have trained to become a priest. And thirdly, Beryl is lovely and I'd hate to think of Ted being unfaithful at anytime in their long marriage, much less now after all she put up with over the Summer. Maybe I'm thinking about it too much, but at least it shows I care, I suppose, which shows that my horrendous experiences with my mother haven't totally destroyed my capabilities for familial feelings.
Anyway, on a lighter note - what sexual enjoyment does a monk get?
None.
(It sounds better when you say it out loud)

RC 14-11-09

Turn up for the books

Our phone line at home has been buggered. Apparently an engineer from a certain telecommunications company chopped through some cables while updating an exchange to take broadband, so I haven't been posting any blog stuff. Sorry. I could have used the PC at work, but it's 'abusing company property' and I'd like to get to the end of the year without a warning. And I didn't want to use the computer at the library because you have to wait two hours to get on it, I always end up sitting next to an asthmatic incontinent, and you're blocked from most worthwhile sites anyway. Still, here I am, with a few things to report from our time apart... Mainly:
Hannah's new boyfriend is a Christian! And not just a 'Yeah I read the Bible once and had RE lessons at school' one, but a full-blooded, dyed-in-the-wool-of-God, practising, scripture quoting True Believer. It's weird. It's so long since I've been around someone religious that I've just had to look up the spelling of the word 'devout.' No pun intended, but God knows how he ended up with Hannah. I love my sister, but the Virgin Mary she ain't, not by a long shot. I normally try to avoid the complexities of my younger sister's lovelife, but this could be about to get interesting..

RC 13-11-09

Up?

I think I’m feeling better. I’m not sure whether the pills have given me a kick up the arse, or whether the mere act of admitting I was in trouble and going to see the doctor has lifted me, but I’ve definitely turned a corner. When I wake up, I can just get out of bed without feeling ill, or like I haven’t slept. I can think about menial tasks without them seeming like a marathon through jelly, and I can look ahead to future events without thinking of nine different ways they’re going to go wrong and kill me.

I’m still getting thrashed at chess whenever I visit Ted, but you can’t have everything.

RC 6-11-09

Sledging

Ted thinks it’s hilarious that our door was set fire to this week.
He asked if I’ve upset anyone locally who might have decided to target us, as most of our closest neighbours had no problems. He seems to have missed the fact that we’re the only ones without an airport strength spotlight above our door, so we had the only path dark enough for the hoodlums to work in without detection.
That’s the worst thing about this whole incident, by the way, the fact that I keep using words like ‘hoodlums.’ I don’t want to call them perpetrators because it’ll just sound like I watch CSI:Miami. Someone’s coming out tomorrow to assess whether we need a new door, or whether it just needs a paint job. Then we can forget it and move on, and Ted can stop making jokes about it at our expense.
Anyway, I don’t think Ted really finds it funny – I think he was just winding me up to distract me and stop me concentrating on our latest chess game. I seem to be improving and I think he’s starting to find his superiority threatened. Maybe, if I keep studying and practicing, I’ll beat him before Christmas.
And while I’m making these wild guesses, maybe we’ll have a decent candidate in next year’s elections, maybe I’ll find someone to love me before I die miserable and alone, and maybe I’ll start pissing pounds and shitting jewellery.
Pardon the language.

RC 5-11-09

Newsflash!

David Blaine - the American illusionist/magician/weirdo - has announced what his next great ‘challenge’ will be… He’s going to spend the rest of his life stuck up his own arsehole.

RC 5-11-09

Victims

We weren’t the only ones who suffered property redecoration attacks last night. Someone’s fence was pushed over, and old Mrs Norris had her bin set fire to. She called the police and asked them to come out and investigate what she referred to as ‘dangerous and malicious vandalism.’ They said they were too busy, and that she shouldn’t worry as it just sounded like a case of ‘over-enthusiastic joviality.’
Maybe they should be looking for Ken Dodd.

RC 3-11-09

Bonfire Night comes early

Some little shit set fire to our front door last night. Apparently it’s an old Halloween favourite in some parts – spraying lighter fluid all over people’s property and then throwing a burning rag at it. Typical of our local twats to do it two days late. The usual thing to do is knock on the door just before you ignite it, so that the unsuspecting resident opens the door to be greeted by flames, but our local hooligans are so thick they didn’t even think of doing that. They just lit it and ran. The first we knew of it was the sound of one of our neighbours beating it out with a wet coat. He’d noticed the flames while out with his kids trick-or-treating and thankfully knew what to do. The imbeciles responsible weren’t sensible enough to do the job properly so there wasn’t much damage. I’ll be on the phone to the insurance company later, assuming we actually have some insurance. I must admit it’s one of the things I didn’t think to check when mother pissed off. Mind you, we rent, so I think it’s the responsibility of the landlord. But I’m not sure who that is. Oh well – someone’s gonna get a phone call. And if I find out who set fire to our door I’m gonna nail them to a Catherine Wheel and throw darts at them while they spin and burn.

RC 3-11-09

Wash my ears out..

I overheard this at work last night…
A man and his wife walking around the alcohol aisle, obviously picking out a bottle of pre-coitus wine, and obviously mistaking me for a fixing that was deaf:
HIM to HER: “If I shave tonight, can I snorkel your fanny?”
Sometimes I wish I had a gun.

RC 30-10-09

Mix and Match

Jared and I were teamed up at work last night for the first time in ages, so I got to find out why he’s on his final warning. Apparently he told a customer to ‘get her fat, ugly arse out of the way’ when he was trying to stock up some washing powder. He must be a nightmare employee if you’re his manager, but he’s a joy to work with as a colleague. He regaled me with his latest imaginary exploits and I found myself laughing til I shook. I felt really weird, and I thought I might be getting a cold or something, and then I realized – it’s the first time I’ve been at work without a cloud above my head for ages, and the first time in months that I’ve actually found myself laughing. Maybe the pills are working already.

I managed to get a version of Computer Chess from a charity shop for 25p today! I loaded it up with furtive anticipation thinking this was my chance to play and learn, in preparation of my next encounter with Ted. I set it to ‘Beginner – Level 1’ chilled a bottle of pop in readiness of my victory, and it beat me five moves quicker than Ted did on Sunday. The disk is now in three pieces in the bin. Next time Ted and I are due to play, I’m going to send my computer over and I’ll stay home and watch ‘Neighbours’ instead.

Oh by the way, have you heard? Apparently Gordon Ramsay bathes in goats milk..

RC 29-10-09

Rumours

I’m thinking of conducting a little social/psychological experiment. I’m going to start a rumour online, and I’m going to see how long it takes to become accepted as regular wisdom. There may be some cultural significance to the findings, or maybe it’ll just be something for my own amusement, but either way I’d like some help deciding what the rumour itself should be. Which of the following, in your opinion, is the most ludicrous and therefore the most likely to be believable to the unwashed, unthinking masses?

“Vernon Kay is Prince Charles’ son.”
“Margaret Beckett is an alien”
“Andrew Lloyd Webber died in 1974 and his appearances since have been filled by his waxwork dummy from Tussaud’s”
“Roquefort isn’t really cheese – it’s an elaborate kind of soup.”
“Women are genetically unable to lick stamps properly.”
“Bathrooms with tiled walls instead of painted ones are four times more likely to be invaded by moths.”
“If you carry a spoon, you can’t get dementia.”
“Eating an apple every day increases your chances of impotence.”
“Homosexuals make the best astronauts.”
“Sammy Davis Jr invented the spatula”

Let me know your thoughts..

RC 28-10-09

Results

The doctor has suggested a brief course of antidepressants (or ‘uppers’ as my serial-addiction Uncle Tom used to call them) He also asked if I might benefit from seeing a counselor. ‘Is there any particular aspect of your life that you think may be causing your depression?’ he asked. I thought “My dad pissed off when I was only a child, my mum is an uncaring alcoholic who could be dead for all I know, I’m unable to convince anyone to love me, I haven’t had a decent day since uni, my education is going to waste as I fester and rot as a shelf-filler and my sister keeps polluting our home with a succession of pot-smoking unwashed no-marks who steal all my food and use my flannel instead of toilet paper. Apart from that it’s all sun and roses.” Instead I said “I’ll think about it.”
It wasn’t Dr Kozhliak, by the way. Apparently he’s back in Poland after a family crisis or something, so I had to meet the rather pleasant Dr Brown. He looks like Barry White, sounds like Muhammad Ali and has stolen Elton John’s glasses. Nice bloke, though. He’s put me on something called Fluoxetine, which he feels may ‘lighten my mood’ and help me ‘get back on your feet emotionally.’ Time will tell, I guess.
In other news, Jared and Mandy the Monster are both on a final warning at work. The rumour is they were caught inflagrenti in the cold store, but I’m not sure that’s true. Or maybe I’m just hoping it isn’t – the thought of those two being sexually active around food is enough to put you off your meals forever.

RC 27-10-09

Chain of thought

Nathan took Hannah to see some film or other yesterday. He paid for her ticket and bought her sweets and everything. I can’t believe she always gets her men to spend time with her away from the bedroom. In my relationships, women never want to be seen with me in public. I may have to ask her how she does it. Jesus, I’m considering asking my younger slag of a sister for advice on successful relationships. I think I may have hit a new low..

‘A new low’ makes me think of my weight. The good thing about feeling down is that my appetite has disappeared. In the old days I used to ‘comfort eat’ and fight my way past the blues by consuming a chocolate mountain the size of Kilimanjaro, but I’m so determined not to ruin my diet that I’ve gone completely the other way and I’m eating less than Gandhi on a protest. You see - there is always an up side when you’re down.. I may be near suicidal and permanently close to tears, but at least I’m getting thinner while I’m doing it. Unfortunately, wherever my appetite has disappeared to, it’s taken my libido with it.

I’m at the doctors tomorrow. I may ask him if I can have a couple of weeks off work. The internet tells me work stress is quite often a contributor to depression. Mind you, the internet also tells me I can get my penis enlarged for a fiver and that Stan Laurel’s dad is Clint Eastwood, so time for a pinch of salt I think.

RC 26-10-09

PM2

I've thought of a few more laws I would pass if I got elected Prime Minister:

- Anyone over 50 will be banned from driving in Norfolk.
- No-one from 'Dragon's Den' will ever be allowed to star in an advert in which they say "I'm in" or "Let me tell you where I am." If they do, they will be exiled and declared bankrupt.
- We'll get all the rain we need, but it will fall only between the hours of 1 - 5am
- Any company that starts their Christmas adverts in October will be shut down and forced to give all their money to charity.
. And a (fairly) serious one to end with - I would change the rules governing the National Lottery so that each of the following would apply:
a) The company running it can never make any money from it.
b) Politicians can never have a say in where and how any generated funds are spent.
c) No-one is allowed to spend more than £10 a week on tickets
d) Retired people will get a bonus in their pension if they don't waste their money on scratchcards.

RC 24-10-09

Here we go again..

Hannah has a new boyfriend. I think that’s the sixth this year. One day I will have to sit her down and point out the difference between ‘boyfriend’ and ‘shagpiece.’ Unusually for Hannah, she seems to have found someone quite pleasant. He dresses well, appears to be free of tattoos, and was able to have a fairly coherent conversation with me without sniffing, scratching his balls or lighting a suspiciously fruity roll-up. Another plus point is that he’s called Nathan. Most of Hannah’s conquests have nicknames that make them sound like rapists, or are named after some kind of insect. I think he may have said his full name is Nathaniel but I may have mis-heard as I wasn’t really paying attention. I have this automatic switch-off device that kicks in when I’m meeting my sister’s bedfriends. There’s normally only a token five-minute ‘get-to-know-you-briefly’ chat before they disappear upstairs and I have to hear them rutting for the next two hours or so. With the benefit of experience, I find it best not to get too heavily involved with them. If only Hannah could say the same thing.

Hey, maybe I’m just jealous. My only sexual encounters seem to be sympathy shags from fat girls and one-night stands with very drunk women who wake up beside me and look horrified.

RC 23-10-09

Beaten

I’ve made an appointment to see my doctor early next week. I’m thinking I may have depression. I know everyone has days when you don’t feel like getting out of bed, but when it actually takes you 4 hours to get your feet on the floor, then maybe it’s time to get help.
I’ve always had ups and downs in my life, but this is something else. Everytime I feel like I’m on my way up and out of the hole, I start slipping down the slope into darkness again. For every positive thought or action, there’s immediately a negative, defeatist thought that pops in my head and clouds it. It’s as if my mind is trying to stop me from functioning.

That’s probably why Ted kicked my arse again at chess today. I think I moved seven pieces before he triumphantly chanted “Check mate!” Bastard. He told me he set me up with a Tyrolean opening before swooping on my King with his Bishops. I told him he was full of shit and just got lucky, but secretly I think he’s a wily old buffer who is playing mind games with me, and winning. But fear not – I’ve bought myself a ‘Teach Yourself Chess’ book and his arse, one day soon, will be mine.

RC 22-10-09

The Darker Side Of Night

I finish work in darkness now. Back in June and July it was still light enough to read when I got there at 9.30pm, and getting light again well before I clocked off at 6am. Now it’s dark well before I get there, and still dark for an hour after I finish. No wonder people get depressed.

RC 21-10-09

Playing

I had a game of chess with Ted today. Beryl is convinced that he’s a sociopathic alcoholic (she reads the Daily Mail remember) and has been told he needs new hobbies to stop him sitting around the house moaning and drinking. So off she went to a car boot and bought him a child-size guitar with only three strings, a ‘Teach Yourself Holiday Spanish’ book and a battered old wooden chess set. She’s hoping that might be enough to see him through Winter without boredom and whiskey. He rejected the first two ideas out of hand, but was surprisingly cheerful and welcoming about the chess set. It turns out he used to play quite a bit in the Army, so he’s offered to teach me all his moves in return for having someone to play with. It’s a shame they didn’t play poker in the forces really, I’d rather be learning something I can win money at.. But never-the-less, it’s a fascinating game and I’m hoping our twice-weekly sessions may help me through my own bout of current depression. I’ve ordered a few books from the library that should give me some tips and help me improve. Most of the ‘Grand Masters’ I’ve looked at online seem to be seriously disturbed and suffering from nine different OCD conditions, but I don’t think I’m looking to play to that level. If I can learn enough to beat my elderly neighbour into tearful submission that’ll be enough for one year.

RC 20-10-09

Real, surreal or unreal? (3rd of 3)

Off to work again, then. Do you ever have those times when your home life just feels like a fuzzy dream, and you only seem to register reality when it’s time to get ready for work? My long sleep yesterday was wonderful, but I’ve been wide awake all day and now I have an 8-hour shift to survive. I’ll dip straight into bed when I get home in the morning and hopefully that’ll get me right back on track.
Roll on January..

RC 19-10-09

PM (2nd of 3)

When I’m Prime Minister, these are the laws I will instantly pass..

Anyone trying to buy a BMW is automatically electrocuted.
Anyone who says climate change is a fallacy should be punched in the face until they change their mind.
Fat women should be banned from wearing tight trousers.
Anyone who is ‘surgically enhanced’ should be force-fed chip fat and made to sleep in an ice bath.
I should be allowed to eat whatever I like without having to worry about weight gain.

Best laid plans (1st of 3)

It all went wrong yesterday. I fell asleep. I was halfway through a hot chocolate and an episode of ‘Lost’ when my body caved in and surrendered to tiredness. I had 11-and-a-half hours sleep and woke up this morning feeling much more cheerful and optimistic. Maybe my week-long battle with depression was down to tired irritability rather than SAD or mental instability. Since being in Edinburgh, after all, I’ve been looking forward to leaving work, and started to adjust my life accordingly. Then last week I agreed to stay on til December, but didn’t change my eating and sleeping pattern back, and understandably suffered. So I’m going to get my sensible head back on and start living in relation to my working hours again. I only have to ride it out for the rest of the year, after all, and then I’m free, like library membership, or the items that frequently fall in my bag while I’m working.
Yesterday’s blog-related challenge is therefore carried over to today. Three different entries, starting with this one.
Until later, then….

18-10-09

What a life. I've just been wallowing around at home being down and grumpy. I can't even say I've been feeling sorry for myself, because that would have taken too much effort. I've just been drifting along in a kind of emotional neutrality. I just keep thinking "If I'd quit work already, I could be in bed by now."
Anyway, I'm here now and that's what counts, I suppose. I'm setting myself a challenge to post three different blog entries today, of which this is the first. I'm hoping it will help kick-start me back into the habit of writing something everyday, but we'll see. Most of last week, it was hard enough to drag myself out of bed to urinate, much less do anything else. But I'm really going to try. I need something to aim for and achieve or I'll probably spend all day on the sofa watching Channel 5, which can never be a good thing for anyone.

RC

1st (blog) of October

Well….
My replacement didn’t last long at work. After his induction on the first night he spent half a shift following me around, then on the second night we worked in tandem. Then halfway through our shift on Day 3 he handed his apron to me and said “I don’t think I can do this every night. I’d rather go back to sticking labels on envelopes for my uncle. At least I get to sit down.” And with that, he was gone. He didn’t even hang around for a goodbye chat. Shame really, I was going to ask if his uncle needed any more staff – I liked the sound of that label job.
The management were disgusted with his behavior and went off to The Meeting Room to discuss what they could do about it. Three and a half hours later they emerged with the answer – nothing. Dave is apparently looking into the legal standing involved when someone quits with immediate effect when they haven’t yet started their trial period to see if they can force him to work notice.. I mean really, would you bother?
The upshot is they’ve asked me to put off my finish date and I said yes. For sanity purposes I should have refused, but I’ve been a bit pre-occupied this week with something that I might share with you tomorrow, so I just thought “Sod it – take their money. It’s only another eight weeks then I’m free to enjoy daylight like normal people.”

Beryl is back in with Ted. I haven’t seen him yet for a catch-up, but there’s been no eardrum-shattering arguments in the street, and I haven’t seen him sneak outside for a roll-up, so maybe all is rosy so far. Young love, eh?

RC 9-10-09

The Grass Soon Grows

My replacement started work last night, and I’ve been asked to help show him the ropes. Any feelings I had about being appreciated and irreplaceable have exploded. I did ask if I could leave tomorrow, on the last day of the month, but they’ve asked me to carry on until the end of next week, “thereby seeing out the terms of your notice period, and ensuring a smooth transition between yourself and the new operative which will minimize disruption to the rest of the workforce.” Twats.
I think I’ve agreed to come back to work in December as well, as they want to hire extras to deal with the Xmas rush, but can’t be bothered to train up anyone new. The money is good, and it’ll stop me panicking about being bankrupt, homeless and destitute by the end of the year.

I didn’t get the job at the pub, by the way. There were several experienced applicants made jobless by the recent recession, so they’ve hired one of those. Cassandra did call to tell me personally, which I admire her greatly for, and she asked if I’d like to be on their list for part-time cover staff in the future? I told her I’d think about it. It felt a bit like someone you’re in love with saying “I’m marrying someone else now, but maybe you’d like to come round occasionally and just kiss me?”

I popped over to see Ted and found him drunk in front of something called ‘To Buy Or Not To Buy.’ Beryl’s ‘few days away’ have now extended to ‘a holiday’ and I can’t help thinking he’s suffering. I think her idea is that the longer she stays away, the more she’ll be appreciated but I doubt he’ll live long enough to realize how much he’s missing her. Poor old Ted. I await further developments with interest. I can only see it going one of two ways – reconciliation or an ambulance.

RC 29-9-09

If...

The 3-course meal I would order if I knew I was about to be executed:

Starter:
Cream of stilton and broccoli soup, with deep-fried panini croutons and a glass of sparkling white.
Main:
Seared sirloin steak with grilled mushrooms, thick-cut chips and a side salad, accompanied by a bottle of deep red, preferably Pinot Noir.
Dessert:
American-style blueberry cheesecake with a bucket full of double cream laced with brandy.

And to follow – a cheeseboard the size of Alaska, which I would gorge myself on until my stomach split and I bled to death internally, thereby nullifying the need for the lethal injection.

Now I’m hungry.

RC 29-9-09

Rory's Book Club

It’s Sunday, and I’m drunk, so in lieu of a more interesting blog tomorrow please enjoy…
A List Of Things That Everyone Should Read (at least once):

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
“Hamlet” by William Shakespeare
“American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis
A good biography of Winston Churchill
My blog

..and some things that no-one should ever read:

anything written by Barbara Cartland
Jamie Oliver cookbooks
The Daily Mail

RC 27-9-09

A strange state of mind

Everything feels surreal. My routine of work is about to be turned on it’s head and even though I’m glad to be leaving, the change is starting to scare me. I’ll miss some of the people, and I can’t deny that the stint there has done me good. I’m better off financially, I’m more than three stone lighter, and my confidence and self-esteem have risen considerably, and unexpectedly. I think being in gainful employ, even in a position I hated, made me feel better about myself (and more of a man) than sitting around convincing myself I was too good for most jobs in Norfolk. I guess it’s my working class background. My grandfather, uncles and father – as far as I remember him – were all grafters and I suppose that’s still inherent somewhere in my genes. Maybe working as a barman, dealing with honest working men when they call in for their daily intoxications, will make me feel more grounded. Assuming I get the job, of course, which is far from a foregone conclusion. I have no experience, I lied on the application, and my only knowledge of business finance was being responsible for the bar kitty for the University Chess Club. Still – the application said full training provided, so who knows?

Beryl has gone off to her sisters again. Ted insists it’s a routine visit, but I can’t help feeling he’s pushed her to the end of her tether again. That poor woman does everything for him and all he does is slag her off, and piss her off. Maybe ‘a few days away’ will do the trick and provoke him to start taking care of himself, and to stop taking her for granted.
Mind you, it didn’t work last time did it?

RC 21-9-09

Change, Day 2

The word is out that I’m leaving. Esther the Store Manager stayed late to see me and make a final attempt to convince me to stay. She offered better terms to ‘show how appreciated I am.’ I told her if I was that appreciated, they would have improved my terms before instead of waiting for my resignation. She mumbled something about equal playing fields and future opportunities and I told her thanks but I’m looking forward to sleeping at night for a change.
The team on the floor seem split between two camps – those who are glad to see someone moving on, and those who think I’m a traitor and should stick it out the way they do, as if the shared suffering of the workforce helps alleviate some of the anguish or unhappiness. Or something. I’m a chemist, not a psychologist.
Jared called me a fat poof and says he hopes I die in a car crash. Mel the Monster gave me an unwelcome sweaty cuddle and made me promise to pop it and visit every so often. Everyone else either winked and wished me luck, or refused to meet my gaze or acknowledge me. Someone from the bakery who never spoke before said “I always knew you thought you were too good for this place.”
I was going to walk off but I turned round and said “I am too good for this place. And so are you. And so is everybody here. No-one should have to spend their life putting out food for others to buy, and we all have the ability to rise above it, but you’re too damned lazy and you’ve settled for your lot. Stop turning up every night and moaning about it, and get yourself some training or ask for a change. Or shut your face and don’t criticise me for doing what you’ll never have the courage to do.”
I doubt he’ll be giving me a leaving card.

RC 18-9-09

Change

I’ve actually done it. I’ve handed in my notice at work. Now I’ve written it down here it seems more real; up to this point it was like a strange dream. Dave my manager nearly fell over when I told him. I’ve never seen this happen before, but his jaw actually fell open. It behaved like it was on a slow-motion hinge.
He asked me if I was joking, and pleaded with me to stay as it’s rare for him to be working with people of intelligence. I said that was exactly why I was leaving…
Later on I had a visit from Suzi the sexy supervisor (or Deputy Manager of Overnight Dairy Replenishment to give her exact title.) She said I was ‘outstanding’ and ‘obviously under-used’ and that she wanted to ‘take me under her wing and improve me.’ I’m a virile man in his twenties with no sex life, so you can guess where my head was when she said that.
I told her she was lovely for trying, but I had reached the point beyond which my sanity and self-esteem could survive against the decaying ennui of my position. The frightening thing is, she understood what I said. She shook my hand and said she hoped to see me soon, and that there’d always be a place for me if other things didn’t work out. I think I’d rather sell my arse than come back, but the way she said it made me feel tempted. She has impressive man-management skills, and exquisite skin on her fingers.

RC 17-9-09

A decision made (I think)

The interview went very well indeed. I don’t think I’ll get the job, to be honest. It may have become apparent to them that my only knowledge of alcohol was which types of it I like the taste of.
One thing though – it’s clinched my mind about quitting the supermarket. Just realizing that there are some jobs out there worth considering has put the seal on it really. If I can get an interview for a job I am totally unqualified for, I should be able to find something else soon, and I’d rather be signing on again for a while than feeling myself degenerate as a shelf-filler. And I have full and worthy respect for people who do it, it just really isn’t any good for me. So I’m off. The decision is made. I just have to face my fear and actually do it……..

RC 15-9-09

Monday, bloody Monday

Here we are, back in Norfolk, and tired. I’m in a strange place, stuck between flying back from Edinburgh last night, getting ready for work tonight, and thinking about my interview at the pub tomorrow. The trip to Scotland was much more relaxed than last time. Back in the Spring I just sat on my fat arse getting drunk and sampling local delicacies. Lots of local delicacies. This time I was more of a tourist and traveled about a lot. I’ll tell you more about it later, when I’m not sat next to a pile of ironing and some shoe polish.
I had to rush out and buy a suit today. Since losing weight, the only posh clothes that fit me are my work uniform, and I don’t think I should turn up for an interview in my work clothes.
I’m very nervous about tomorrow, but also strangely confident. I’m not expecting to get the job, so I’m treating this one as a practice for any future interviews, so the pressure is off a bit. Plus, I have such an extreme fear of flying that since I successfully flew back from Scotland I feel like I can deal with anything. They may ask awkward questions and get me to try humiliating dexterity tests, but at least I’ll be on the ground while I’m doing them.

RC 14-9-09

Surprise!

Greetings from Edinburgh!
I was gonna have a few days neglecting the blog, but I’d probably get used to having the time off and then not write any more when I’m back in Norfolk. So here I am, taking advantage of the library at Sophie’s hospital.
The lady at the desk thinks I’m a junior doctor researching a curious skin disease that’s just turned up in A&E. Bless her. I’ll shout ‘Eureka’ in a minute and run out in a hurry before she susses me.

I’ve been offered a formal interview for the pub job! I was walking around Arthur’s Seat this morning (those who have been to Edinburgh know exactly what I mean) and my mobile started ringing. I had planned to leave it turned off and at Sophie’s, but to be honest I was worried I might twist an ankle or get attacked by an Eagle or something, so I packed it in my trousers. The ladys’ name was Cassandra, and she’s the new co-owner of the Pheasant and Partridge. She said they were impressed by my application and would like to meet me. I explained I was on holiday, so I’m now pencilled in for next Tuesday (the 15th)

I’d better sign off now. Grizelda at the desk is heading over with a face that says she’d like to fry my kidneys.

Haiku before a Holiday

I’m shitting myself
I’m off to the airport soon
And I think I’ll die

Here we go again
Destination Edinburgh
That’s if we don’t crash

Can aeroplanes fly?
Or are we drugged so we dream,
and get moved by bus?

I’m scared of flying.
Am I obsessed about death?
Or just a realist?

If I die today
Please think only this of me:
I shouldn’t have flown

RC 8-9-09

Up, up and afraid

My holiday has been approved, so it’s all systems go for Edinburgh. I’ve agreed to work Sunday and Monday nights as Bank Holiday cover, and then it’s off to the airport and away.
I’ve started packing already. It shouldn’t take too long – I’ve lost so much weight this year that I only have three items of clothing that fit me, two of which are socks.
My next task is to psyche myself up for the flight. Last time I sweated more than a sprinter in a sauna, drank about a litre of wine and still had three heart attacks during the landing. I was going to get some self-hypnosis books out of the library, but I haven’t been in there since Donna broke my heart, and I’m not sure how I’d react if I saw her. Maybe she’d see my new svelte figure and realise she’d made a mistake, or maybe I’d burst into tears and refuse to leave the building til she kissed me. Either way, I’d rather not face that situation just now thanks. So it’s will power, tranquilisers and advice from ‘AviophobicsUnited.com.’ One woman in the forum says she gets over her fear by imagining herself as a bubble of light, floating on a rainbow that is held and protected by God.
Sometimes I hate the internet so much I could vomit.

RC 4-9-09

Odds and Sods

I think we’ve jumped through September and October and woken up in the first week of November. It was dark at 6am, it poured with rain for three hours and today’s been windier than my bedroom after a full roast dinner and a cheesecake. This blog of mine seems to be littered with entries moaning about the weather, but really – the temperature in our garden on Sunday was 27 degrees Celsius, and today our neighbours fence blew down in a gale. It’s the tail end of Hurricane Dan, according to the chirpy blonde tart on the forecast. I never liked people called Dan. One of them stole my socks when I was at Sixth Form, and a lecturer at Uni with that name gave me two ‘C’ grades in one semester. Bastard.

I’m off to see Sophie in Edinburgh next week. Flying up on Tuesday, and coming back on Sunday. It should still be slightly summery, and I’ve avoided the over-inflation of prices that seems to coincide with the Festival and Tattoo, so it won’t cost me sixty-three pounds for a haggis. I’m still fighting the bureaucracy at work to have the time off, but as I’m on the brink of quitting anyway, the holiday is booked and that’s that. I might hire a car while I’m up there, as I’d like to venture further afield.

I still find it hard to believe I passed my driving test. All that reading, studying, reversing and arguing and suddenly I’m decreed safe to be on the road. Personally I think there’s something seriously wrong with the system.

RC 3-9-09

Stick or twist?

Someone has offered me a job. I was slightly the worse for wear, alcohol wise, and started moaning on about work and how disgruntled I am, and the trendy young barman asked me if I'd ever done bar work. I haven't, of course, but on the back of 11 rum and cokes I heard myself say "Yeah, I used to help out in the student bar at Uni."
It turns out that the pub - The Pheasant and Partridge - has just been bought by a local family who want to throw out the 'Generic-GastroPub-That-Looks-Exactly-Like-Every-Other-Pub-In-The-Country' atmosphere that the recent owners (a national chain) had put in. Part of the transformation involves employing local people with a bit of personality, rather than the 'pretty boys and girls with more make-up than sense' that were working there previously. I'm quite intrigued really. Tom (the barman) is the new owner's nephew and is running it until October, then he's off to Cyprus to join his Cypriot fiancee in her restaurant. So they want to take on a couple of local people to train up as managers to run it for them, while they expand their empire elsewhere. I should point out at this point that I may well have misunderstood a lot of what was said - I couldn't see straight, I was having trouble balancing on the stool, and I was busting for a pee so my mind was wandering somewhat as well. But if all is as it seems, it might be a nice opportunity. Hannah tells me the hours can be long and unsociable, but I wouldn't be working overnights anymore would I?
I have the application form before me on the table....

RC 31-8-09

Quick Haiku about Salmon

They leap in a stream
Like silver sperm on the waves
But they're still just fish

RC 28-8-09

Close Encounters of the Turd Kind

I had a horrible experience cycling this morning. I decided to take a footpath down by the river, but had forgotten how many dog owners walk their pets that way in the morning, and how few of them bother to carry bags for poop... I'm used to feeling mud and stones and things hitting me in the back after being flicked up by my back wheel, so I thought nothing of it when something splattered between my shoulder blades. It was only when I got home that I realised I had ridden thorough something left by a Great Dane with a bowel disorder, most of which was now steaming and drying on my T-shirt.
Filthy bastards.
Talk about a stench. I smell like one of Hannah's old boyfriends.

RC 27-8-09

Summer ups and downs

Sorry I've been neglecting you, dear reader. I've been enjoying the fairly decent weather by cycling and walking lots, and the thought of going indoors to turn on the computer and work was about as welcome as the thought of licking my big toe and putting it in a light socket. Being slightly fitter, and slightly thinner, means I can get out there and enjoy life without feeling knackered or embarrassed by my physique. I'm still over-weight, but not in the sense that children point at me and laugh, or get told by their parents 'that'll be you if you don't lay off the cola and crisps.'
I think I've reached the end of my tether with night work. I have no regrets about my time as a supermarket stock replenishment assistant - it got me back in the job market, and brought in some much-needed cash - but if I stay there much longer I'm going to stagnate and fester, and before long I'll be losing my will and brain cells, and I'll have forgotten what words like 'stagnate' and 'fester' actually mean.
The trouble is I'm picking precisely the wrong time to be considering a job change. Unemployment is rocketing, more and more graduates are out of work, and the chances of finding something that I enjoy, that pays well, and that is suited to my qualifications appear virtually nil. Maybe I'll just take the first thing that comes along and do it for a while until it bores me, and then move on again. But if I'm going to do that, why not just stay where I am and stick with the familiarity?
I'm sure I'm not alone in these sentiments, but that doesn't make them any less concerning.
Oh well - back to the bike.

RC 24-8-09

Decision

I've decided to give myself more leeway with the number of words I can use in each blog. I've become a bit obsessed about posting exactly 250, so I write a beautiful, thoughtful entry then spend hours trying to re-write it and cut it to fit my self-imposed boundary of wordage. In doing that I think I'm sometimes losing the passion of the piece, and my individual thoughts and feelings are failing to shine through as a result. So from now on - no Word Count, no editing, just honest, heartfelt and hopefully hilarious musings. I'll get down what I want to get down, and if it's 50 words or 5000 it'll be just fine with me.

That'll do for today, then.

RC 15-8-09

Watch this space/wait and see

Ted continues to ramp up his Summer Of Self-Indulgence. He tells me his heart attack has made him realise his time on this planet is short, and he wants to enjoy every second of it. If he carries on in his current vein, there won't be that many seconds left for him to enjoy...
I'm taking bets on what gives up first - his long-suffering wife or his fragile heart.

No joy on my campaign to let me wear headphones at work. Dave said he doesn't have a problem, but approval would have to come from the Store Manager - Esther - who apparently welcomes suggestions from staff the way she would welcome Freddie Kruger to a coffee morning.
It's typical of today's world, and today's companies. They're run by people with degrees but no experience, who think the key to success is to have every store looking identical and fail to realise that the only people who really understand what the customers want are the ones who are down there dealing with them every day. Let's see Esther in a uniform spending 10 hours a night placing tinned goods on a shelf in date order and see if she wouldn't welcome a spell with an iPod. Uncaring bitch in her ivory tower with her pension and her power-suit and her ninety quid haircut like Morticia Addams, I bet she's never done a real days work in her worthless life.
Having said all that, she might say 'yes,' so personally I'm reserving judgement.

RC 14-8-09

The things people say..

I had an encounter with one of life's true gentlemen today. I was standing by the bus stop, wondering what mental challenges I could set myself to make the hours at work less unbearable, when the invasive roar of a motorbike shook my senses. The guy riding it was straight from the "Aged Roadies That Ride Bikes" catalogue - long, unkempt beard, Harley T-shirt, torn jeans, black boots, dirty grey hair under a Nazi trooper-style helmet, and tattoos on every square inch of skin. As he approached the traffic lights, an old man in a Peugeot changed lanes in front of him, missing him by the princely distance of a good thirty feet. Apparently, to an aged biker, this is an intolerable invasion of personal space.
"Use your indicators you f***ing idiot. You stupid f***ing c***," he yelled, showing his brittle yellow teeth in the process. "Stupid old f***ing c***, GET OFF THE ROAD!!"
I stood there smiling, then realised that he was looking straight at me from behind his Harley wrap-around sunglasses. He looked wound up tighter than a reel of clingfilm, and there was no question that someone or something would be feeling the brunt of that anger. I thought my smile might mean it was me, so I shook my head, tutted and said "Some people, eh?"
He said "Yeah - and they wonder why you drag 'em out of the car and kick the f***ing shit out of 'em."
And people say bikers are foul-mouthed and aggresive.

RC 13-8-09

plus ca change

I'm going back to work tomorrow. I'm down to a small strapping on two fingers and some bruising so it's hard to justify not doing my job. The middle-aged lady on the phone from HR (I think her name was Ms Battleaxe) tells me it's company policy that when an injured party returns to work they will be placed on gentle, restricted duties only. She put on her media-trained soothing, caring voice and said "You must tell us straight away if you're feeling uncomfortable."
I was going to say "I'm an intelligent man with a degree and I'm working nights as a shelf-filler, I feel uncomfortable every time I clock in," but I decided against it.
I've got to get myself tuned to overnights again. For two weeks I've been around in daylight hours, now I have to re-train as a night owl once more. Caffeine is the key, I feel. Caffeine, Pro Plus and a Tazer that'll stun me anytime I fall asleep.
I'm going to start a campaign to let us wear headphones while working. Most of us work on our own in silence anyway, and we only get the odd stoner or incontinent insomniac in, so it's not as if we'd be upsetting scores of customers. Plus it means I won't have to listen to the inane whingeings of my narrow-minded and in-bred co-workers, who between them have the intelligence of a sparrow and the life experience of a new-born lamb.
I'm so pleased I'm going back.

RC 12-8-09

Chumps, and stumps

One of the idiots down our way had his pet arrested today under the Dangerous Dogs Act. You can't say it was unexpected. On Sunday one of the kids in the street dropped a tennis ball over the fence and the dog tore it to shreds before trying to headbutt his way out to kill everyone in sight. It's the latest in a fairly long line of incidents. The owner had several warnings, now it's Goodnight Vienna. (I don't think the dog was called Vienna, but you get my drift..)
The dog, by the way, was an Alsatian/Rottweiler cross, so you can imagine the temperament.. As it was drugged, hooded and thrown in the van the owner was heard to say "I just wanted a pet I could cuddle and play with." If you're reading this pal - no you didn't. If you'd wanted that you'd have got a labrador. What you wanted was something to make you feel manly and strong, because you have a small penis and an even smaller brain.

I sat down to watch the cricket with Ted again on Sunday. I'm quite new to the game, but I think it's fair to say England got a spanking. Ted was hungover and says the result was all my fault - apparently the team were playing well until I started watching and in the last two Tests they've been awful. Ted drowned his sorrows in a four-pack of Worthington Creamflow and a cigar the size of Shropshire.

RC 11-8-09

The Game

I have some interesting bruises on my hand now. I popped over to show Ted and he said "Modern medicine is all voodoo and trickery. If I was you I'd rip off that strapping, throw away the pills, and rub some Witch Hazel in with a lintle." I think he said a lintle. It doesn't make much sense to me, but then that's true of most of Ted's utterances.
Beryl has moved back in, but is still silent and frosty. Things might improve if Ted stops nipping out for a quick cig or tinny every couple of hours. He goes back in reeking of smoke or lager and wonders why she kicks up a fuss. He's a character, God Bless Him.
He's been trying to get me interested in cricket. I've always considered it a game for pansies who aren't good enough to play real sports.. Ted insists it's like full-size chess with gentlemen players instead of pieces, and that you have to watch it at length to appreciate it. So at the weekend I accepted his offer to spend the day watching it with him. We had snacks, we had drinks, and I was fully willing to absorb myself in the spectacle and learn appreciation from Ted as the hours unfolded.
And it rained. It rained all day. All we got to see were some groundsmen sweeping rain off the pitch, and some pissed off spectators who'd blown fifty quid each to watch the rain for ten hours.
Stupid game.

RC 6-8-09

another day, another dream

I can't get Thursday's dream out of my head. I can remember almost every line that was spoken, every scene that was filmed, every position that the actors got into. I've been trying to write it all down. While I'm off work, I may try and put it together as a proper screenplay and see if I can sell it. I've often thought my imagination could make me money, although I hadn't expected my first idea to be a film in which an interstellar hooker bangs her way around the Universe, but sex sells as they say, especially in the porn industry.

If I rent two DVDs a day from the 'adult entertainment' section of the local shop, will they understand that I'm merely researching the current styles and trends in the genre so I can tailor my upcoming screenplay accordingly? Or will they just think I'm a pervert? I'd hate to walk into the shop next month and have women say to each other - "That's the one Janet. That's him. Filthy bastard. Masturbates more often than he breathes. Watch him, Janet, and lock the girls away until they're forty."
Ah, stuff 'em. Do I care what they think? A bunch of middle-aged, over-weight, under-sexed, chocoholic, leather-skinned sourpuss hags and has-beens? Women whose only sniff of sex in the past ten years has been sitting in a warm bath with some Chablis and a second-hand 'racy novel'?

Actually, that's an idea - I wonder if Mills and Boon do sci-fi?

RC 3-8-09

The Zombie Awakes

You can relax a bit now - I've had some sleep, and I've sorted out a routine for my painkillers. Yesterday was weird. Having never really dabbled in the world of pharmaceuticals I'm always affected very strongly by drugs, even over-the-counter ones. So being prescribed serious doses by the hospital was a bit of a shock to the system. I think I've worked it out now, and it looks like I took three days worth of pills in just over 14 hours. Oops. No wonder my hand stopped hurting...
I've read the leaflet that came with the bottle, and I've also read some info on the internet, and I've called the NHS 24-hour hotline, and the Drug And Alcohol Support Line just to be sure, and I should be ok. Assuming I don't slip into a drug induced coma and bleed to death internally, I'm going to take two pills every six hours now, and I've set myself alarms to make sure I'm on time.
I eventually fell asleep about 2.30 I think. I remember floating up the stairs to go for a pee, then I had a strange, colourful and vivid dream in which I was filming a pornographic version of War Of The Worlds, and then I woke up in bed, with a spinning head and a chronic thirst. Now I just feel exhausted and hungry, so I'm off to try and cook a chilli one-handed.

I think the film was called 'The Whore Of The Worlds' if you're interested.

RC 31-7-09

Monsoon?

It's absolutely pissing down. I'm sitting downstairs in that happy part of life that you occupy with the help of hospital-strength painkillers, and it's so dark it's like blogging in a cave. If you looked outside you'd think it was January.
I haven't slept since sometime yesterday morning. As I'm off work for a bit I thought I'd enjoy the chance to see some daylight, so I stayed up all night watching various old science programmes online. Now I've gone past the time of day at which I normally sleep after the nightshift so I've livened up again and feel a bit confused. I may have also over-done the Cocostamolbupren or whatever the hell my pills are because I'm supposed to take them four times a day (with meals, then just before bed) but obviously my eating and sleeping has gone a bit skewish so I can't remember when I've taken them or when I haven't. I didn't want to be under-dosed, so for the past 18hours or so I've taken two whenever I've eaten something, even if its just an apple or a flapjack. I've emptied the bottle to try and count how many are left, so I can work out how many I've taken, but I kept losing count at twelve, and then I couldn't remember how many were in the bottle to start with. I'm sure it probably says on the label somewhere but my eyes don't seem to want to focus on the writing, so I've given up.

Happy days

RC 30-7-09

Back off

I had a little accident at work last night. I was tired, bored and fantasising about one of the 19-year-old girls on the tobacco stand, and I failed to notice a few tins of beans that someone had knocked off the shelf. I stumbled forward with the grace of a pissed elephant, reaching out to grab the shelf to support myself, but the only part of my hand that connected was the end of my little finger. I don't know if you've ever tried to stop yourself falling over by using just your little finger but it tends not to work. What tends to happen, it turns out, is dislocation. As I stood up, desperately hoping no-one had seen anything, I brushed the dust off my trousers and realised that my finger was pointing in the wrong direction.

Dave my manager took me to A&E. I had X-rays and got prodded a few times, and was looked after very well by a fierce-looking but gentle short-haired nurse in her fifties, and her young trainee assistant who was Polish, 22, and very, very sexy. I decided to impress her with my bravery, so I screamed like a girl while being examined, and sobbed uncontrollably when they put in back in place.

So now I have a strapped hand, strong painkillers, and a bit of time off work. I was told to go back when the swelling went, and I have full movement in my fingers.
I'm thinking the end of November...

RC 28-7-09

Is it Christmas yet?

Summer continues to fly by in a weekly torrent of boredom. For any experts on english who are reading this - I'm well aware that my opening line was a load of nonsense, but it's been raining, so I don't care.

The only smile I can raise in my soul is by remembering that I passed my driving test, so I'm cheering myself up by looking at cars online. The thought of going out by myself, in my own car, fills me with dread to be honest, so I think the sooner I do it the better it'll be. So far I've looked at an Aston Martin Vantage, a Daimler sovereign and a Rolls Royce Corniche. So many cars, so little money. I've left my address for details to be sent on each of them. Another beauty of internet window shopping, my friends - they never see me, they never know I'm broke.

To finish, here's a few things that are really narking me off today (I'm in one of my occassional down periods so this may help to lift my mood)

I can't eat what I like any more, unless I'm prepared to be a fat, breathless behemoth again, which I'm not, so I can't.
None of my clothes fit because I've lost lots of weight.
Jamie Oliver is still working.
When I was fat and sweaty, and travelling by bus, it was hot. Since I bought a bike and passed my driving test, it's been dull and cool and raining.

RC 27-7-09

Mysterious girl, and a curious ode..

I think I'm in love. A posh bird with legs like a promise of heaven asked me for directions to the hair products. It was ten past three this morning, and my heart leapt the way a flea leaps from an enthusiastic vet's powder. I doubt I'll ever see her again, but even if I don't, it was worth it for our brief, beautiful encounter. Whoever you are - we shall always have the shampoo aisle..

As a little challenge to see myself through the work-based ennui, I thought I'd compose a poem using only words that start with the letter 'W'. It turned out to be much harder than I thought. This is what I have so far:
"Why would women want wonderful windows?
When what we waggle would whiten wooden wellies?
Willies?
Wow!"
It might sell to a few Edward Lear fans, but otherwise I think I'm chasing a lost cause. It killed a few hours at work though, which I suppose was the idea of the exercise. For the final boring stretch I returned to my old friend haiku:

Supermarket nights.
I fill the shelves with your goods,
while you are asleep.

I don't buy Persil.
It gets things very white, but..
I like things dirty.

If I were a God
I'd rid the world of evil.
(Jamie Oliver)

Why do old women,
who once wore perfume so sweet,
smell of sweat and piss?

Once upon a time
are the first words of this tale
which is now over.

RC 23-7-09

Moon

I was drunk and melancholy this morning. I'd been nursing a couple of strong ones in the pub while reading an Apollo 11 pull-out from Tuesday's paper, a fascinating retrospective on the 40th anniversary of the mission.
It's one of the few events before my birth that I really regret missing out on. History fascinates me, but I rarely find myself wishing I had been there for a first-hand experience. Sure, I've been around for some key moments anyway: despite being young, I can clearly recall the emotions and amazement arising from Nelson Mandela's walk to freedom, or from those over-due cracks appearing in the Berlin Wall. But the Armstrong and Aldrin adventure sadly occurred a full decade-plus before I burst onto the planet. Reading with fervour, and a warm glow, I wondered at the true global nature of the event, when all corners and kinds of humanity - including their Space Race arch-rivals the Russians - were willing them on to succeed. Will there ever be another time, I pondered, that our dying race can pull together and revel in the glory of a unifying goal achieved? A challenge overcome to benefit all mankind?
I very much doubt it. I think we're more likely to continue on in our selfish, self-absorbed, self-centred, centralised, introverted individual lifestyles while joining forces to rape and pillage the world of all its resources until we render it totally unliveable for us all.
Like I said early on - I was drunk and melancholy.

RC 22-7-09

a thought

I have just three words to say about the weather in Norfolk this week:

Utter wanky bollocks


RC 21-7-09

Watch out, world!

I passed my driving test today. It was, without question, the most nerve-wracking and sweat-inducing hour of my life. The examiner was a cross between Genghis Khan (for attitude) and Christian Slater (for looks) with all the friendly charm of Margaret Thatcher and a control of English equalled only by Rab C. Nesbitt. He also seemed to have rounded up every elderly, blind, drunk or disturbed driver in the city and positioned them on the route in front of me.
Having a stranger sit in judgement while you attempt to prove you can do something that has left you baffled for months is awful, especially when your knowledge of the Highway Code seems to wander away from you like a fox from a beagle. You can understand why I started the engine a bit shakily.
I'm so glad it's over. I can't remember the last time I was this relieved to have put something behind me. Even the weigh-in at work was a doddle compared to today.
Once I recover from the horror of the test itself, I'm sure I'll be joyous at the achievement, and looking forward to the road-based wonders that now lie before me. You know the sort of thing - suicidal cyclists who cut you up on the road and then sue you, egomaniacal teenage cops with speed guns who hide round country corners after closing time, and those ancient, near-blind pensioners who think the numbers on speed limit signs represent millimetres per decade.
Congratulations me, eh?

RC 16-7-09

The urge to splurge (and others)

I've been comfort shopping again. eBay is my new best friend. This time yesterday I had bids on 41 separate items, including a fridge/freezer, two pairs of running shoes and a speedboat. The thrill of the chase is as good as the actual catching, so I bid on things I have no hope of getting, guaranteeing myself a big buzz without a big bill.

I'm trying to arrange a date to visit Sophie in Edinburgh. I was hoping for a week in August, but the Festival is on then so everything is three times dearer than usual. I love the city, but I'm not going to end up bankrupt just to see some crappy Oz comedians and a drag act. So a trip up in September looks likely.

Ted and Beryl remain in Relationship Hell. It all came to a head with a blazing row in the garden on Monday. She said if he doesn't do as he's told, he'll be dead before next Christmas; he said if she doesn't lay off and leave him alone he'd be better off dead anyway. She's now having a couple of days with her sister in Essex to let the atmosphere cool. She left him several healthy meals in the fridge, but when I saw him last night he was outside with a roll-up waiting for a pizza to be delivered. When the cat's away, the mouse will play I guess, even when that mouse is a geriatic boozer with a heart condition.

RC 15-7-09