Archive for August, 2010

So, I’m currently down at the coast staying with my Dad over the bank holiday weekend. I’ve had a very busy and stressful time at work over the past few months, so a proper getaway was welcome.

Also, my Dad and I are both curry-monsters, so the time we spend together down here in Eastbourne is an (un)healthy mix of indian food, visits to the pub, other takeaways, fry-ups and more beer…

As ever, the common misconception about Eastbourne is that it’s full of coffin dodgers, woolly-heads and old cunts who stink of piss, lavender and herbal cigarettes.

I’m just here to tell you that’s all bollocks. I’m sure there are one or two pissy old bints down here – they’re everywhere, like shit in a field – but Eastbourne is, in fact, quite up and coming. There are lots of bars, clubs and restaurants in the area, with colleges nearby, meaning a good healthy mix of young clout for dirty old bastards like me to perv over. And I do – often.

Anyway, just a quick little ditty to say that I love Eastbourne. I enjoy coming down here, staying with my Dad, being unhealthy and re-charging my batteries. Granted, the closest to the sea I get is wandering down to the pub at the harbour, but that’s good enough for me!

Someone I used to work with (who shall remain nameless) didn’t half come out with some wonderous quotes from time to time.

She was the stereotypical blonde: fucking gorgeous, body to die for (natural norks and everything), and she liked to let you think she was as thick as pig shit.  She wasn’t really, though I don’t think she was blessed with much in the way of common sense.

Anyhow, here are some of her pearls of wisdom. I wrote them down and just came across them whilst clearing out a drawer, so I thought I’d share the wealth with you all…

  • Was Jon (a colleague of ours at work at the time) sad when his dad died?
  • Are sausage rolls made out of sausages?
  • I didn’t realise the M25 went round in a big circle.
  • How do you spell ‘light’ as in ‘lightbulb’? Is it ‘light’ as in ‘lightweight’?
  • How far is 10 miles?
  • Oh god, we’re not in the World Cup are we?
  • Do Mini Cheddars go off?
  • At least my hair will grow back. Won’t it?

I love her. I’d happily shag the ass off her. But I couldn’t actually hold a conversation with her – oh god no…

Stuff I am shit at

Posted: 04/08/2010 in Humour
Tags: , , ,

I spotted on Twitter recently, reference to a blog from one of my lovely followers in which they listed all the stuff they’re bad at in life. Being the cheeky (and lazy) bastard that I am, I decided I would do the same. So, first and foremost, thanks go to @EatMyHalo for giving me permission to steal her blog idea. Thanks – you’re a fucking star. (You can also see her blog here.)

  • Ironing – this may sound sexist but it’s something I feel women can genuinely do better. To be fair however, Stephen Hawking could probably iron a shirt better than I could. And he’d sound far more interesting as he narrated his efforts, using his ‘Speak & Spell’ voicebox – which, incidentally, I also want one of;
  • Cooking – a little unfair this one, as I think I’m actually an alright cook. My trouble stems from not being arsed with the purchase of necessary ingredients, and then the clear-up operation afterwards – likely to be on a par with the recent BP fiasco;
  • DIY – I can change a lightbulb, re-wire a plug and am good with anything ‘techy’ like connecting up computers, DVD players, VCRs (showing my age here), Wii and other games consoles etc, but ask me to put up a set of curtain polls, a bog-roll holder or use any form of powertool, and I’m fucked. You will not be seeing me on DIY SOS anytime soon – except as a hopeless bellend requiring the services of Nick Knowles and his team. (Especially Julia Kendell , the luscious designer who I have a seriously disgraceful thoughts about on a regular basis.);
  • Staying off Twitter for more than 48 hours – I tried it once. Nearly fucking killed me.
  • Exercise – As a younger man, I used to cycle everywhere, go swimming and was a good runner. Then one day, I passed my driving test. That, coupled with generally getting older, smoking (which I subsequently gave up over 5 years ago now – yay me) and being a lazy bastard who hasn’t got back on a bike since, plus a love for takeaway dinners (especially indian) means I’m now considerably more stocky than I used to be. That said, I used to be too thin – 6ft tall, 10.5 stone and a 32″ waist – I looked fucking terminal. (‘Skeletor’, they used to call me – I could see each and every rib on my torso, and just laying in bed on my side was painful because of my boney hips.)  Well, let’s just say there’s no danger of such a prognosis these days. I’m nearer 15 stone now – but everyone who knew me back then says I look much better and healthier as I am now. Result? Not fucking ‘arf
  • Updating this blog – Though to be fair, I’ve just finished this article – eventually. (So fuck it; scrub that one.)

 There will undoubtedly be further additions to this list. Not least of all because I’m shit at more things than I’m good at. I think.